Page 29 of His Wicked Embrace
She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach as he said “our bed.” They would share a bed and spend the night here, that much was clear. It was getting too late in the day, and the rain would make travel less appealing. He walked over to her chair and held out his hands. She took them, and he lifted her up to her feet, then sat down in her chair and pulled her onto his lap, curling his arms around her and pulling her close to him. He was as wet as she was, but she burrowed into him, stealing what warmth shecould.
Zehra played with the ends of his hair with her fingertips while she tucked her face against his neck. “I would like to stay here.” She wanted Lawrence all to herself and didn’t want to share him with what awaited her back in London—fears of being sent home, fears of Al-Zahrani still roaming free, fears of being alone forever. Lawrence cupped her face and leaned into her so their noses brushed. She was spellbound by his hazel eyes, watching the green glints mix with lightbrown.
“There are those shadows in your eyes again. I wish I knew how to make them go away.” His breath was warm as he spoke, and she ached for him to kiss her. Their lips were but an inchaway.
Please kiss me. Chase the darknessaway.
Zehra licked her lips and Lawrence drew closer, but the door opened again as the young boys returned with hot water. She and Lawrence watched them in amusement as it took several rapid back-and-forth trips to fill the large tub. When they were done, Lawrence slipped them both a few coins, making their eyes go as round assaucers.
Zehra smiled, and Lawrence became aware of her studyinghim.
“What?” heasked.
“You are generous,” shesaid.
Lawrence shrugged. “My father taught me that when you’re blessed to have much, it is both a duty and a privilege to give to those who don’t. When a farmer gives us a ride in a storm or lads work hard to carry heavy buckets, I feel honor bound to give something more back than justgratitude.”
“I wish I could have met your father,” she said, her heart softening as she imagined Lawrence as a young boy learning kindness fromhim.
His sad smile tore at her heart. “I wish you could have too. He would’ve liked you.” He gave her waist a gentle squeeze, then lifted her up and set her on her feet. Without asking, he began to unbutton her gown at theback.
“What was your father like?” heasked.
“He was kind and amusing. He made my mother laugh all the time.” She closed her eyes, remembering the sound of her parents’ laughter. But the sounds were dim, not as clear as they had once been. Her memories of them—the way they smiled, their voices,everythingabout them—had begun to fade. Yet the memory that was blazed clear into the haunting stillness of her mind was that of their lifeless bodies and the distant screams cutting throughsmoke.
Zehra forced herself to focus on her father’s life, not his death, as she tried tospeak.
“He was very intelligent…and very open to the ways of the West. It’s why my mother settled in so well withhim.”
“Your mother wasn’tPersian?”
Zehra inwardly cursed. She hadn’t meant to reveal her parentage, not yet. “No, she wasEnglish.”
Lawrence’s hands paused on the last button of her gown, his fingers hovering at her lowerback.
“You are half English?” Surprise colored histone.
She turned around, shimmying out of the dress to let it drop to her feet. “Yes.” She faced him wearing nothing but her chemise and stays. “Does that…change how youfeel?”
“About you?” Lawrence asked, brows raised, his hands hovering an inch above her bare shoulders. “Not at all. I am merely glad to have one mystery solved. Now I know why you are able to speak English sowell.”
“Well, I had a good tutor,” she said, then wondered if that suggested toomuch.
He grinned. “It seems you have plenty of other mysteries I need to delve into.” His eyes wandered down her body before returning to her face. The open honesty of his hunger filled her with a similar desire. He brushed away a damp strand of hair that clung to hercheek.
“Hop in the bath and warm up. I’ll have a fire lit and track down our dinner.” Lawrence turned and walked away, leaving her cold andalone.
Zehra sniffed, her eyes tearing up. The man was too good, too kind.And I want to show him how much it means to me. How muchhemeans to me.Zehra unfastened her stays behind the changing screen while listening to Lawrence call for a boy to start a fire. It would be too easy to fall in love with this man. But she couldn’t seem to stop, and it was only going to break herheart.
Chapter Ten
Lawrence looked up in surprise as he heard Zehra climb out of the bath behind the screen. She hadn’t been in there very long and he worried the water had cooled toofast.
“Was it hot enough?” heasked.
“Oh yes. I didn’t need to stay in very long.” Zehra came around the changing screen into view, a blanket wrapped tight around her body. She came toward him on dainty bare feet, clutching the edges of the blanket around her shoulders. He caught a glimpse of her bare skin as she moved, and his body turned taut witharousal.
She deserves a gentleman, not a rogue.He forced himself to stay where he was. The old Lawrence would have been on his feet in an instant, sliding that blanket off her, determined to get her on her back on the nearest comfortable surface. But he wanted to be a better man for this woman. When he took Zehra to bed, he wished for it to mean something for both of them. It would be about more than simple pleasure, even if it was doomed not to last. He swallowed hard, his body fighting his mind every second as she drewclose.
