Page 43 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
He stepped back and took a deep breath. For any of that, he would have to be married to her. And he had no intentions of marrying.
“You are seeing your banker tomorrow. You should get some rest tonight.”
Her face fell and she pulled her robe tighter, as though she’d just become aware of the gape in the bodice. “I am well aware of the plans for tomorrow.” She knotted her belt, blinking.
He took her elbow. Her body, so pliant before, had resumed its tense state.
“I will escort you up. I promise that, no matter my state of arousal, I will respect and honor you.”
“I can find my own way.”
“No doubt.” He started for the door.
“Wait.” She broke free and blew out the candle.
The touch of her hand on his arm stirred him, making his chest swell. He navigated the dark stairs with her in tow, and crossed the landing to go up again.
“My room is on this floor.”
“So is mine. We’re not going there.”
Graciela gripped his arm tighter. Charley Everly rushed up the stairs as if Carvelle himself were pursuing them. These quiet stairs, the twists and turns of corridors and long row of doors. She knew where they were going.
She blinked back tears. That he would understand her needs touched her.
A guard shot to his feet outside the nursery door. He’d not been there when she’d checked earlier.
Was he keeping Carvelle out, or keeping her and her people in?
“This is where I leave, before Juan shoots me with one of his new pistols.” Charley lifted her hand and kissed it. “May I have your promise that you will go with me tomorrow?”
“Of course. I am not so foolish as to try to talk to that man alone.” Lady Perry had said the banker may not talk, though Mr. Gibson had mysteriously assured them he could persuade the man. She hoped there was no blood to be shed.
“And I will see you at breakfast?” Charley asked.
“I should like to eat here with Reina.”
“Of course.” He kissed her hand again and disappeared.
Inside, she rested her shoulder against the closed door and allowed her heart to quiet. A lamp had been left burning and a maid dozed in a chair.
His touch had been everywhere upon her, except where he knew it would cause her pain. The kiss had been—lovely. Not forced. Not a plundering of her mouth. Not an act of domination and taking.
Charley’s kiss had tasted like brandy and promised pleasure, and had made her want more.
She shook her head. But of course. He had a reputation as a seducer of women, and it was no wonder. He was very good. She had told him what she required—honor, respect—and he had seen fit to pull away and give it to her. He had made her want to reach for him.
She pressed a hand to her heart. And she did. She wanted nothing more than to go back into his arms.
The wonder of that filled her with gratitude and something like hope. Perhaps she wasn’t as broken as she’d thought.
