Page 80 of If the Slipper Fits
Her heart sank for reasons she chose not to examine. “Are you angry with me?”
“No,” he clipped out.
She sat up, and fingered the long braid she’d tied her hair into before slipping into bed.
He’d positioned the armchair to face the hearth, putting his back toward her. His thick hair gleamed in the firelight. Gads, but his shoulders were broad. They barely fit in the chair.
“You can’t be comfortable there.”
“I’m fine.” His subsequent shift belied his words.
“Stubborn to the end.”
He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it, Anna. Trust me. I’m fine here. I don’t imagine I’ll sleep tonight, regardless.” Raw emotion underscored his words.
Her insides twisted. Something was eating at him. Was it what she’d shared earlier? The complications she brought to the table? Or was it the earl? She licked her lips, considering, then flung off the bedcovers and slid her legs over the side of the mattress.
His head jerked in her direction. The silhouette of his profile limned in the low firelight revealed a severe frown. “Anna?”
She recognized both wariness and a warning to stay back in his tone.
Undeterred, she crossed the room to face him, her backside absorbing the delicious heat of the fire.
Sprawled atop the armchair, long legs outstretched before him, he glared at her. He wore his thick silk robe. Loosely belted, it exposed a large amount of naked torso. He had refrained from removing his black trousers, but had taken off his boots and stockings, leaving his well-shaped feet bare.
In the stuttering light of the fire, the hard lines of his face combined with the blueish stain above his brow, gave him the look of a privateer of old, or…the Robinhood of their childhood grown to manhood.
His blue eyes glittered like cut glass. “Anna, go back to bed.”
“What’s happened, Caden? Something has. I feel it.”
He laughed without a trace of mirth. “What’s wrong? Aside from everything?”
She lifted her chin as guilt assailed her. “I see. You’re upset because of me. Because of the position I’ve put you in. I…never mind.” She started back toward the bed.
Quick as a snake, his big hand darted out and grasped her wrist.
“Anna,” he whispered harshly. “I’m not upset because of you.”
He released her and unfolded himself from the armchair. The silk tie of his robe unknotted and the lapels gaped. He brought himself toe to toe with her and grasped her shoulders.
Her heart raced—from his nearness, his touch, the scent of warm male skin teasing her nostrils. “If not me, then what? I know something’s put you in a mood. Something’s different since you stepped out of this chamber.”
Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the snapping logs in the hearth. She longed to wrap her arms around him, to press her cheek to his bare chest, but she resisted.
It was all well and good for Caden to rescue her, to take on the role of Prince Charming to her Princess—now as when they were children. But him, admit a weakness or need? Ha. The charming, laughing, oft-times irascible Caden would not give up his cavalier veneer easily.
With shaking fingers, she settled for reaching up to trace the blue tinge above his wound. “As predicted, you look quite ruggedly handsome.”
One corner of his mouth kicked upward in a wicked grin that had her stomach doing somersaults.
“Do I?” His tone was easy, but his hands, tightening on her shoulders, told a different story.
Her fingers cruised over his stubble-covered jaw to curve around his warm nape.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You owe it all to my tending, of course. The swelling’s vastly improved, and hardly more than a tinge of color testifies to your injury.”
He closed his eyes and a shudder went through him. “You see? I’m fine. All thanks to you.”
