Page 32 of The Gentleman's Seduction
His friend turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Thank you. For today…and for the day you stood by Helen all those years ago. I never understood what she faced, not really. This morning…” He shuddered and carefully favored his bad arm. “What I mean to say is, you’re a good friend. I don’t deserve you.”
Rodney grinned cheekily. “You certainly don’t. Anna and I will be in London for the holidays if you wish to attend the dinner at our house.”
“Thank you.” Martin watched Rodney cross the street and hail a passing hackney. He leaned out of the door and told his coachman to take him home. He’d barely slept at the club, and the brandy he’d drunk the night before along with a swollen eye and wounded arm were now taking their toll on him. As soon as he got home, he was going straight to bed. He would not think about Livvy until later in the day when he’d had a chance to rest and think.
When he reached his home, the coach driver helped him out of the vehicle and up to the door.
“Thank you, Jim.” He nodded to the coachman before entering. Harris was exiting the door to the servants’ quarters and froze when he saw Martin.
“Sir?” Harris gasped. “What happened?”
He waved Harris off when the butler came over to him. “I will explain later, but I’m all right.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, not now. I think I just need to sleep for a few hours.” He started up the stairs, his feet dragging. He felt as weak as a pup. When he got to his room, he sighed against the door as he turned the latch. He was suddenly very weary. If he could just make it to his bed, everything would be all right.
The door swung open, and he started toward his bed. But the moment his eyes touched upon his bed, he stumbled. It wasn’t empty. Livvy was lying there, beneath his sheets, asleep. Her dark hair rippled out across the pillow. She looked so sweet, so innocent and lovely it made his heart ache.
I should go to another room, but I’m too bloody tired.Martin fumbled with his waistcoat and shirt, wincing as he removed them. When he collapsed onto the bed beside Livvy, darkness closed in around him almost instantly.
11
Livvy curled into the warm, hard object that lay beside her. It was like sleeping close to a roaring fire while it snowed outside. She sighed and rubbed her cheek against whatever it was.
I must be dreaming.It felt simply wonderful. It slowly occurred to her that there was no way her father could have afforded extra logs for the fireplace in her room.
She jolted awake and stared at the still form lying in bed beside her. She wasn’t in her room at home. She was in Martin’s bedchamber.
“Martin?” she whispered tentatively, touching his back. He lay on his stomach, one arm underneath his pillow, his face turned her way. His face was pale, and a slight frown creased his brow, as if whatever he was dreaming bothered him. When had he come back? She had crawled into his bed around midnight and had been quite certain he would not return. Yet it was barely past seven if the clock on the fireplace mantel was correct.
She started to slide out of bed, but Martin rolled onto his side and curled an arm around her waist. She gasped as she saw a thick white bandage around his upper arm. That same arm now gripped her in the way a child would a beloved stuffed toy. And one of his eyes was puffy and dark. She winced. What had happened to him while he was away?
“Martin?” She spoke his name a little louder, and he shifted, muttering something about finding a good horse.He must be dreaming. Livvy carefully tried to pry herself away from him. The soft skin of his arm was tempered with the hard and heavy weight of his muscles. For a moment she found herself looking at those muscles in fascination. Then she chastised herself and focused on lifting his arm. Her attempts only made him curl tighter around her.
“Martin!” she growled.
“Hmm?” The drowsy murmur made her temper flare. She really needed to use a chamber pot soon. She pressed her palm tightly on the wrapped wound, knowing it would hurt, but she had to get his attention somehow.
Martin hissed and released her waist immediately, then rolled up into a sitting position, clutching his wounded arm to his chest.
“What the devil?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She pushed back the covers of his bed and tried to help him, but she didn’t know how.
He growled like an irritable badger and got out of bed. “It’s fine.” He turned his back on her as he stalked over to his washbasin and splashed his face with cold water. He scraped the cloth over his chin and cheeks, drying his skin.
“What happened to you?” She slipped out of the bed and came up behind him, trying not to let the sight of his muscled back distract her.
“I don’t wish to discuss it. What the devil are you doing in my room?” His cold tone made her step back. “A man could get the wrong idea about a woman in his bed. You say that I’m cold, that I’m callous? You don’t know a thing about me. I vowed not to touch you without your permission, but when you’re touching me, how do you expect me to respond?”
“Well…I didn’t intend… But you can’t blame me for what happens while I sleep!” she snapped back, feeling a strange flush inside her as she verbally sparred with him.
“Then you shouldn’t have been in my bed in the first place. A man is liable to wander between his own sheets, and if he finds a soft, feminine body to hold, well, you can’t be mad at me for that.” He lips were twitching as though he was fighting between a frown a smile, and for some reason that set her off even more, wanting to provoke him into doing something utterly dangerous, like share another kiss.
“Can’t I?” she challenged, and he acted just as she hoped he would and took the bait.
