They both stared at her neck. “Is it bruised?”
His gaze scorched her. Fox was well and truly angry.
“Jenny, hot water.”
Jenny hurried out.
He pressed his lips together and finished unwinding the cloth, tossing it aside. Then he turned her around, pulled off his damp coats and tugged at her soggy ones.
She pulled away from him. “Stop. I’m feeling much better. I can undress myself.”
“No.” He tugged at her sleeve again.
“You are too rough. Too angry.” Sudden tears sprang and she swallowed them back.
She was yanked back against him, into his heat and his trembling, and she remembered. He was soaked also, and freezing. He needed dry clothes.
She covered his hands with hers. “Go and change, Fox. Jenny can help me when she comes back.”
“No.”
His heat and his anger vibrated through her. “I won’t go anywhere.”
For the rest of my life.A sob bubbled inside her. Father would lock her up for her foolishness. Her hands curled into fists, and she bit hard on her lip.
She must do the honorable thing and report this threat to the King, even at risk of her freedom. She would not cry. She would somehow survive this and find another way to break free.
He released her and went back to tugging on sleeves, this time more gently, removing her coats.
“Sit down, now.” He moved a chair near the growing fire.
The heat made her skin ripple. Fox knelt before her and removed one of her boots. Money spilled out, coins and bank notes. She picked up one of the notes. It was only a little damp. A night drying by the fire and she could still use it.
Fox’s eyes narrowed. He collected the coins and notes and set them next to his discarded knife.
He lifted her other foot. “I suppose this one has the jewels.”
Her face heated as he poured out her gold chain, the pink garnet ring she’d received for her eighteenth birthday, a cameo fob, and a slim bracelet dotted with turquoise. It was paltry. All the best of the jewelry was locked in Bakeley’s safe. How had she thought to subsist on these items? She watched him gathering them, noticed how he kept his face carefully neutral. He’d slipped from anger to pity.
Jenny entered with a steaming bucket.
“Put it there.” He pointed to the hearth.
“I’ve tea ready also.”
He nodded. “Get it. Some biscuits also, or bread if there’s any.”
As soon as the door slammed, he eased her out of the chair, yanked out her shirttails, and tore the shirt over her head.
She plopped her hands over her breasts. “Fox.”
His fingers tore at her trouser buttons. She barred an arm and hand over her breasts and slapped at his busy hands with the other.
Buttons flew. The loose breeches peeled down her hips and pooled at her feet. He swept a gaze over her, his eyes darker than usual, and walked into the dressing room.
She glanced around the chamber. Where had she left her dressing gown? Where had Jenny put it?
In the adjoining room, he was slamming cabinets. As his footsteps neared, she dropped into the chair, drawing her knees up and huddling into them.
