Page 14 of Papa's Captive
Chapter 8
William studied Rosie from across the table, admiring the glow of her flushed skin in the candlelight. She had relaxed visibly during their meal. She hadn’t cast a worried glance at the window or the door in quite some time. He took his duties as her papa seriously and hoped that as they spent more time together, she would start to feel safer and eventually, perhaps let down her guard.
She had built up walls around herself, an armor she wore to protect herself from the dire circumstances that had led her to live at Talcott House in the first place. He watched her as she finished the last of her soup and pushed back slightly from the table. A sweet smile lit her face when her eyes met his. His heart contracted with warmth and he couldn’t wait another second to take her in his arms.
He rounded the small table and helped her from her chair.
“Time to get ready for bed,” he said, greatly anticipating the first time he would help her prepare for bedtime and tuck her in, even if they currently lacked the lavish amenities of his home. For tonight, they would have to make do with what was on hand.
Rosie stifled a wide yawn as he guided her to the wash basin. She gave him a strange look when he picked up a washcloth and dipped it into the water after adding a bit of fragrant soap. “I can do that myself, Papa.”
“Of course you can,” he replied, rubbing the cloth over her cheeks in a gentle manner, “but you are going to have to become accustomed to allowing Papa to tend to you, little girl. Once I get you to my castle, I look forward to giving you a proper bath.”
Her eyes widened. “But that is a job for a maid, Papa. You would see me unclothed. ‘Tis improper.”
“I intend to take care of you myself, Rosie, rather than pass you off to a lady’s maid. I will bathe you, dress you, and even fix your hair. There’s nothing improper about a Papa taking good care of his sweet little girl.”
“You know how to style hair, Papa?” she asked with a giggle.
“I think you will soon find, my dear, that I am a man of many talents,” he replied in a husky tone with a slight lifting of his eyebrows. When Rosie blushed, he suspected she’d understood his double meaning. “Time to get you undressed, my little one. You won’t be comfortable sleeping in your clothes.”
“But Papa!” Alarm filled her eyes as a bright pink flush covered her entire face.
A dark primal pleasure wound through him to witness her shock. He would undoubtedly shock her again and again in the days to come, not to mention make her blush on a regular basis. His cock sprang to attention and his blood heated.
“I suggest you mind me, young lady.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her, a thrill running through him at the sudden image that flashed in his mind of her bent over his knee, her little bottom bared, as he disciplined her for resisting him.Naughty, naughty little girl. This is what happens when you disobey your papa.
Would she obey him this evening?
Or would he have no choice but to take her in hand before he tucked her in for bed?
If he had to apply a few swats to her bottom to help her settle, he would not hesitate. She was his to take care of for the rest of their lives and he would not shirk his duties as her papa.
She sighed and most of the defiance left her eyes, though she still appeared uncertain and increasingly nervous. He guided her to the foot of the bed, where he made quick work of removing the pins from her hair, allowing her glorious dark waves to tumble over her shoulders. He knelt briefly to remove her well-worn shoes and threadbare stockings, glad that replacements of the finest quality would be arriving at his castle in a few days. He wanted to clothe her in nothing but the most luxurious garments and accessories. Finally, he rose and unfastened the stays of her dress with deft movements.
“You may sleep in your shift, little one.” He waited for her to meet his gaze, then added, “and as long as you behave yourself, you may wear your drawers, as well. If you are wearing any, that is.”
Though women of William’s class typically wore drawers, women from lower classes sometimes went without. He wasn’t sure which he preferred to discover as he removed Rosie’s dress. Her shift was so thin the dark outline of her luscious, peaked nipples greeted him and his shaft became uncomfortably hard the longer he stared at her exquisite beauty.
What he wouldn’t give to strip every last shred of clothing from her body in this moment. He wanted to rip off her shift—and yes, her drawers too—as he could tell she was wearing a pair since the outline of her nether region wasn’t visible as he finished pulling her dress off her. He folded it and placed it on a large, ornate trunk that rested nearby.
He needed to get her under the covers and quickly, lest he lose control and come at her like a rutting beast. God’s teeth, he would give away his entire fortune if only they would appear in the wedding chapel at Gretna Green in this instant. He chided himself for not anticipating what a temptation she would be once he got her alone in a bedchamber. Had he realized how fiercely he would be burning for and craving her now, as she stood before him in a simple white shift, he would have tried to arrange for a quick, private wedding on the edge of town after he kidnapped her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a fortune vast enough to tempt even the staunchest of vicars into performing a questionable marriage ceremony.
But perhaps the anticipation would make their wedding night all the sweeter.
Erotic visions danced through his head as he peered down at Rosie.
Mine mine minerepeated in his mind like a mantra.
He had succeeded in whisking her away and by this time tomorrow, they would be husband and wife. Papa and little girl. A fierce sense of ownership stole through him, along with a tenderness he had recently come to realize was love.
He loved her. Truly and deeply. More than he had ever imagined he might love his future bride. He had known he would have to seek a wife soon, a truth all men of his social standing must eventually face. While he’d attended many balls over the years in hopes of meeting a young lady who incited his desires, he had never once come close to finding his perfect match, had never before met a woman that made him contemplate matrimony. Not until Rosie. There was something about her that called up his protective side, not to mention his possessive side.
His father had once jokingly said, “Love is madness,” and now William understood. The desire to have Rosie as his wife had prompted him to take bold actions that only a man of his peerage could even dream of getting away with. Furthermore, had Rosie been highborn and from a respectable family, rather than an orphan living in what amounted to little more than a foundling home, they would likely have half the countryside looking for them right now. A titled lord would not take kindly to his daughter being kidnapped, even if her captor was her betrothed.
William grasped Rosie’s shoulders and started leaning down, preparing to kiss her.
