Page 89 of Evidence of Evil
“Can you manage?” he asked distantly. “Or shall I ask Lady Maule to help you? Our cover is shattered, after all.”
His words felt like a blast of cold water. “Of course I can manage.”
She didn’t even wait for him to turn his back before she began to tug off her gown. Her heart lurched when she heard him move, but he only walked to the window, looking out on the night while she changed into her nightgown.
Only when she stood and, holding on to the bed, hopped in the direction of the washstand did he stride back to her, and with his arm at her waist all but lifted her over the distance.
No doubt it was laughable, but her whole body blushed at the intimacy. The thin lawn of her gown was no protection from his heat, his movement against her, his very scent… But again, he moved quickly away from her, turning back the bedcovers while she splashed water over her hands and face, then brushed her teeth.
He was there again to support her back to the bed, his touch electric. His hand at her waist was long and slender, his body pleasingly hard and muscled and—
“I shall be back in five minutes and douse the lights then,” he said coolly, releasing her as soon as she sat on the bed. He walked out of the room.
I disgust him. I still disgust him as a woman, even if he tolerates me as a friend. Can I live with this?
Five minutes later, when he returned, she was lying down in the bed, turned away from him, willing herself to unconsciousness. After all, half an hour ago, she had almost been asleep on Besty’s back. Now, when she could and should have slept, her nerves were all coiled up like springs.
After the usual rustling of clothes and movements she had got ridiculously used to, he snuffed out the candles and the mattress dipped as he got into bed. He lay down well away from her.
“Goodnight, Solomon.”
“Goodnight, Constance.” There was a pause, then, “Does your ankle pain you? Do you need something for—”
“No, it’s fine, thank you.”
He did not reply.
She said, “We solved the mystery. We did very well, considering, did we not?”
“I think we did.”
“Are you in pain?” she asked. “Your throat—”
“I am not in pain.”
“Then why are you so unhappy?”
She felt him turn over. Was he peering at her through the darkness?
“I am not unhappy.” He sounded surprised. “Are you?”
She thought about it. “No. We proved Elizabeth’s innocence, and she and Humphrey seem closer. And there is no real evil, is there? Just bad behavior and consequences and tragedy. Would you mind very much holding me? Just until we fall asleep.”
Oh God, where had that come from? She just felt so small and alone…
If he had sprung out of bed and bolted, he would have surprised her less. Instead, he moved nearer.
“Constance,” he murmured as his arm came around her.
She did not turn into him, but she clung to his hand in gratitude. He snuggled her, and within seconds the tragedy had slipped away, leaving only warmth and comfort andhim. And then she drifted into sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Solomon woke blearilyat the first light of dawn. He usually did, but he was not usually too tired to get up. Nor was he usually plastered against the delectable form of Constance Silver. Desire had wakened him, and it raged through him now, not least because his hand was cupped around her breast.
The exotic floral and spiced scent of her hair, her skin, filled his senses. She was so soft and warm, her curves open to his caresses, and from there… Temptation clamored, all the more powerful because it was joined to a much more novel tenderness.
Last night’s vulnerability had moved him. He had been glad to give her what comfort and care she wanted and sought nothing in return. But if he turned her now, if he kissed her mouth, would his own conflagration not consume her? She was not indifferent. Neither of them had ever been. Together, they would burn so brightly he would never be the same. And she…
