Page 55 of If the Slipper Fits
“About my wound. Shall I heal, or am I to be branded for life?”
“Oh. Right.” She hinged forward to study his brow anew, all business save the twin splotches of red on her cheeks.
Frowning in concentration, she leaned closer.
His gaze locked on her lips. Hunger hollowed out his insides, urged him to do something stupid like rise up, mere inches, to claim her mouth with his. No matter that a few short hours ago, kissing her had rocked him to his core. No matter that he knew she deserved better than being treated like a party favor by the likes of him. No matter. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe.
“A slight edema has formed, but the bleeding’s stopped. Any larger of a slice and you’d have required stitches. You may bare a scar. A bit of salve would help.” She traced the area above his brow with her fingertip.
He felt the caress all the way to his groin. He swallowed hard, words failing him.
She met his eyes, sending him a resigned grin. “No doubt a scar will only serve to make your perfect face even more dashing.”
“Perfect, eh?” He arched his injured brow, instantly regretting it as stabbing pain had him raising a hand to the site, which he regretted more. “Ouch.”
“Poor Caden.” She brushed his hand aside and reapplied the ice with practiced care. “Better?”
He gave an inarticulate grunt as, inside him, a war raged. His last shred of good sense shouted at him to send her away before he did something stupid. He reminded himself she would rather live her life as a servant than consider an offer of help from him.
Arguably worse, when the blinding intensity of his response to simply kissing her sent him running, she had no trouble informing him she could take him or leave him,wouldleave him without a backwards glance at her first opportunity, even knowing their paths might never cross again.
Never again. The mere thought gutted him like he was fifteen all over again.
All the more reason to send her away.
His gaze fixed on her lips as he worked up the nerve to do what he must. “Anna?”
“Yes?” Her breathless answer threw fuel onto the fire burning within him.
I need to kiss you,his insides screamed. He swallowed the truth. He would stick to his guns. Do what he knew was right—for both of them.
He couldn’t pry his focus off her mouth, but he forced out the words. “You’d better go. You’ll miss dinner.”
She somehow managed to stiffen in offense while still leaning forward to hold the ice in place. “I see. What about you?”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug.
“I could fetch you a plate, and the salve I mentioned.”
He opened his mouth to reject her offer then choked on his reply as the tip of her pink tongue darted out to lick her goddess-inspired lips.
“Very well—if you join me.” He was an idiot. Hecould live with that.
***
“Might I have a moment of your time, Lady Wentworth?”
Lady Evelyn Wentworth turned to study young Harrison, her distant relative by marriage.
A dark haired, gangly man of medium height. Affable by anyone’s standards. But…there was something in his eyes. A sharpness lurked there, visible if one happened to pay close enough attention.
Dis-ease coursed through her. “We have some time yet before the dinner gong sounds. You may escort me on a brief tour of the Fenton gallery.”
“An excellent notion. I know a short cut.” Harrison proffered his arm, and she hesitated long enough to offer up a prayer he wouldn’t manage to do her bodily harm before their conversation reached its end.
Neither spoke as they wove between clusters of guests. Eventually, they passed through two massive carved wooden doors into a long, narrow gallery. Harrison paused to close the doors behind them before once again taking her arm.
“How fare’s your father, the viscount?” Lady Wentworth asked.
