Page 49 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
She did wish his words didn’t fill her with such disappointment. She made a move to clamber out of the bed and a wave of dizziness assailed her.
“Stay,” Thorne ordered, placing a hand on her shoulder and pressing her back down to the mattress.
She wanted to defy him—damn, but the man was dictatorial—except falling flat on her face, which she was likely to do, would hardly serve her purpose of proving she didn’t need anyone to see after her. In resignation, she watched as he escorted Graves out of her bedchamber, heard their voices but not their words, soon followed by the quiet closing of a door. Waiting there, she should have been bothered by the occasional clang and bang coming from the other rooms, her kitchen most likely. She wasn’t accustomed to having anyone rummaging about her lodgings, and yet she found the sounds rather comforting, soothing enough that every muscle relaxed and her body melted into the mattress.
Surprised her brothers hadn’t been waiting for Graves’s departure and come barging in, she found herself wondering at Beast’s words and what he thought was going on here. Perhaps he had no concerns because he’d seen her speaking with Thorne the other night, was aware she knew him, trusted him. She scoffed. How could Beast know that when she’d only just realized it herself?
As much as Thorne irritated her when he threw about commands—as dukes were wont to do—she did inherently have faith in his underlying character. He wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t take advantage, had no interest in her other than to repay her for the care she’d given him after he’d been attacked. He wasn’t staying behind because helikedher, was drawn to her, found her fascinating. She wasn’t like the delicate flowers who frequented the balls he attended and sat across from him during lavish dinners. But as she heard his footsteps nearing, for the first time in her life she wished she was.
He was carrying a tray that held a bowl and two glasses of amber liquid. He’d no doubt found her whisky. He was also wearing his spectacles now. She didn’t like that they caused her to hope he wore them in order to see her more clearly.
As he set the tray on the bedside table, she eyed the bowl, wondering where he might have gotten the soup. “I’m not really hungry. I ate earlier.”
“That’s good as I haven’t prepared you anything to eat. Let’s sit you up a bit.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps the bowl contained broth or something equally unappealing.” She gingerly pushed herself up while he stuffed pillows behind her back, his body so close to hers that she could feel the heat, could inhale his tart fragrance.
“Water.”
“I haven’t a fever. I’m not in need of wiping down.”
Finished with his task, still near, he cradled her chin and used his thumb to stroke the corner of her mouth, making her feel as though she might have suddenly become fevered. “You have a bit of dirt on your face. Scuffling around on the floor with ruffians is not a clean business.”
Rubbing at her cheek, she brushed his hand aside in the process, and rather regretted that. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
His lips formed the barest hint of a smile as he reached for the glasses and handed her one. He lifted his. “To a speedy recovery.”
“You’re making too much of a fuss. I’m barely injured.”
“You shouldn’t be injured at all.” After taking a sip, he set his glass aside, stood, removed his jacket, and set it neatly on a nearby chair. She watched in fascination as he unbuttoned his waistcoat—how could so simple an action be so spellbinding—shrugged it off, and set it atop the jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“As I intend to be here through the night, I decided to get comfortable.”
The slow unknotting and unwinding of his neck cloth was next. Then he began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. She’d seen him naked. Why was it the baring of only his forearms was so much more provocative?
Loosening the top two buttons of his shirt, he returned to the bed, sat on its edge, and reached for the tray, picking up a cloth she hadn’t noticed.
“You’re not going to wash me.”
He arched a brow at her. “Do you really want to engage in a battle you can’t possibly win?”
“You shouldn’t assume just because I’m a woman that I would lose.”
“I’m not assuming that at all,” he said, his voice low and raspy, sending warm tingles along her spine even as she recognized the threat of a challenge when it was being delivered. He leaned in until she could almost see her reflection in his dark eyes. “But I am assuming, as much as you pretend otherwise, that there is a measure of feminine vanity in you and you will be in want of a clean face when I kiss you.”
Chapter 14
Taking great delight in the widening of her eyes and the slight parting of her lips, he didn’t know what had prompted his words, his dare. He knew only that he had an insatiable urge to spoil this woman, take care of her, kiss her. Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to plunder that bold as brass mouth of hers. He wasn’t certain when it had come upon him that he did, but it seemed now that the desire had always been there, just hovering in the shadows, lingering beneath the surface of his desires.
He thought he’d returned to the Mermaid and Unicorn earlier than planned because he needed to alert her regarding the missive he’d received and how it might alter their quest to find his bride, but he realized now he’d come to the tavern simply because he wanted to see her again, because he wanted to speak with her, hear her voice, smell her unique fragrance of vanilla and barley. Lavinia’s letter had provided him with an excuse not to see Gillie any longer, and he damned well didn’t want to take it.
Moving away from her, he dipped the cloth into the bowl. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she downed all the whisky in her glass. Most women he knew would have been sputtering and coughing, but then she wasn’t most women. She was uniquely herself. And he adored that about her.
“As though I’d let you,” she muttered.
“Care to say that a bit louder with a bit more force?” He wrung out the cloth and shifted his body on the bed in order to face her more squarely. “Don’t look so frightened, Gillie. I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”
