Page 57 of If the Slipper Fits
“Why, secret her away. Immediately. Hypothetically.”
Chapter Twelve
With the jar of salve clutched in one fist, Anna rapped twice on Caden’s antechamber door then let herself in.
Heart racing from her mad flight to find a footman to request food for them, on to her chamber to retrieve the salve, then back here, she pressed an ear to the adjoining door and heard only her own choppy breaths and silence.
She opened the door, her gaze shooting to the bed.
Caden lay atop the bedcovers, chest rising and falling in a steady manner indicative of sleep. He had not donned a shirt as she had feared—expected—he would. She drank in the sight.
Dusk had turned to full-on night and the candelabras framing the walnut four-post bed barely touched the shadows engulfing the room.
But those flickering candles bathed his supple looking skin in a soft gold that bade her fingers to touch and explore. Oh, he was beautifully formed. Broad shouldered with a muscular chest that narrowed to a trim waist and a hard, flat stomach.
Heat infused every inch of her body, coiling through her to a searing concentration low in her belly. It was an odd, strangely delicious sensation.
She inched closer, not so much as blinking.
His thick, tawny hair, lay mussed against a white pillow. The thick fringes of his lashes cast shadows over his broad cheek bones, and even in repose, his mouth curved in seductive invitation. Despite the bruise marring his brow, Caden epitomized male perfection.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to apply your magic elixir?” He regarded her through slitted eyes.
She jumped. “I thought you’d fallen asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She spoke in a breathless, too-rapid manner.
He snorted softly. “I’m quite awake.”
“Then why are you lying shirtless?” The fact one had little to do with the other, added to the tell-tale breathless quality of her voice, told her she’d missed the hoped-for affronted effect.
A lazy grin curved his lips. “Bother you does it?”
“Did I not say so?” Oh, would that he believed her scandalized.
“Pardon me, darling. I thought it obvious I needed help getting into my robe—what with the bleeding and dizziness.”
“Dizziness? You never mentioned feeling light-headed.”
“Only when I sit upright. I s’pose for decorum’s sake, I should’ve risked a minor faint. Terribly sorry.”
She might’ve believed his apology sincere if not for the devilish gleam in his eyes he didn’t bother to mask.
“I’ll just slip into my robe.” He reached for a bed post and started to drag himself upright.
“No.” She rushed forward to press her hand into the center of his chest.
His skin felt exactly as she knew it would. Hot. Supple. Densely muscled.
She yanked her hand back as if burned. “S-Sorry.”
“Whatever for, Anna?” Caden asked in a velvet soft voice.
To her horror she giggled. She hadn’t suffered a fit of nervous giggles since…Bother. She couldn’t remember the last time.
She sniffed and willed her expression to sober. “I’m…er…sorry I didn’t offer to help you don your robe. Tell me where to find it, and I will.”
He arched his unmarred brow and directed her to the valet beside his wardrobe. “Beneath my dinner jacket."
She crossed the darkened room to where the garment hung. Grasping the heavy silk, she caught a faint whiff of Caden’s spicy aftershave. Only the knowledge he watched her kept her from pulling the silk to her nose. She strode back to the bed, holding it at arm’s length.
