Page 11 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
“Ramsey. Or Ram, if you like.” He pointed toward the dressing alcove. “I wait there while you disrobe.”
“And bathe.”
“If you wish.”
“Oh, I do.”Especially if we are to sleep together and I am to retain my dignity.
“I will request water for your bath.”
“Thank you,” she said, gauging the extent of her true gratitude, which would come only later, after he had slept beside her—and not touched her.
“You are welcome, Amber. Your worries are fewer tonight. Tomorrow is a new day.”
Chapter Four
Ram had notrouble falling asleep. He’d done his duty to find the elusive Amber St. Antoine.
But he awoke in the dead of night. The warmth of her in his bed within reach startled him. She was a new phenomenon. He’d not had a woman next to him in a very long time. Never for hours in his bed, certainly. He did not sleep with women he hired. Few as they were. Fewer as they had become over the past few years.
Odd, definitely, for him to say to himself that he did not care to take a female to his bed. He liked women. He had always liked them. His mother was a sweet soul, feline as a barn cat. Particular in her tastes in friends, fashion, furniture, and cuisine, she was also pushy in her desire to see him wed, especially lately. But at twenty-eight, he was getting older, wasn’t he?
However, he had found no one. No one. Odd that, for a man who had always had his choice of theton, young, old, widowed, bluestockinged.
Silently, he chuckled.Was that even a word?
No matter.Definitely a concept.
But the challenge was complex. He found debutantes a bore. Older women—either blue of stocking or not—pedantic, opinionated. A few widows he’d enjoyed in bed and out were also set on sampling his friends (which did not thrill him), and never marrying anyone ever again (which did not say much for men).Some women were well read and intelligent. (That was excellent, as one did not wish to be bored for forty years.) Others were gorgeous. (And were far too proud of it to add any other assets to their character.) But Ram was far from the age when looks alone drew him. Certainly money never had. And he needed no one to run his household. His mother did that well enough. And their estate manager and solicitor were excellent retainers. Ram had no need to marry to keep the servants in line or the house in order.
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, he removed his blankets and rose. Grabbing his quilted banyan, he cast a glance at his bedmate.
She thrashed like a carefree child who took all the bed.
He bit back a chuckle. She was not used to sleeping with anyone…or if she had slept like that with St. Antoine, it was no wonder the poor fellow died suddenly.
That was unfair. From what his friend Whit, Lord Ashley, had told Ram, Maurice St. Antoine was a very fit fellow. That he died suddenly was what often happened to men over fifty.
His heart gave out, most likely.
Ram shook his head, the errant thought that the man had died after exerting himself loving his second wife bringing a laugh to his lips. But that was also unfair to Maurice.
Because the lady who slept like a two-year-old in his bed could inspire a host of angels to want her. Take her. Day and night.
Even me.
And that is foolish.
He padded to the small window that overlooked the rough country lane running along the back of the inn. Rolling fields stretched out beyond that. Stars twinkled in the deep black of night. The moon was somewhere out of his view.
At the edge of the copse, deer sat in shadow upon the earth in a protective circle. Even dumb animals knew how important it was to form a phalanx against those who would assault them.
That was now his job for this woman. To form a barrier, provide direction and comfort. Her fear had sent her rushing from court, Paris, friends, and her role as an agent of espionage.
How drastic her panic must be.
“Do you worry?” the sleepy voice behind him asked.
She ventured so close to him, he felt her body heat, sweet from their bed. He smiled to himself as he inhaled her fragrance, soap and lemon from the bath she’d requested before she climbed into their bed. “No. I have no reason to. I hope you don’t.”
