She drew her brows together. “I already call you Wivenly.”
“No. My friends call me Will.”
She wanted her own special name for him. “Would you mind if I use William?”
“Not at all.” He drew her to him. “I’d like it more than anything.”
Marisole returned as he removed his cravat, and it was a good thing. His poor neck was so inflamed that he must be in excruciating pain. She quickly sniffed the salve, some sort of grease.Imbécile!
“Oh, William!” Eugénie picked up the sponge from the basin of cool water her maid had drawn. “I will kill Tidwell.”
He flinched as she touched his neck with the sponge. When she unfastened the shirt buttons, her fingers shook with rage and something else she had trouble defining, a desire to touch him she was unfamiliar with, and a need to protect him. A V of curly, dark gold hair appeared. It was all she could do to stop herself from caressing it. She cleared her throat, and quickly cleaned the area with coconut soap. “Now the salve.”
Oh dear. She almost didn’t recognize her voice it was so breathy.
The corner of his lips quirked up into a crooked smile. “Having any problems, my love?”
Oooh, he was infuriating. Eugénie was that close to dashing the whole bowl of water in his lap, yet he wouldn’t be able to go out if he was wet, and his shirt would stick against his hard chest. She stifled a sigh. Ever since Cicely had put the idea in Eugénie’s head, she’d thought about what it would be like to make love with him. Now that they were to marry, and he loved her, there was no reason to wait.Oh! This must be what Cicely has been feeling.And unlike Andrew, William—Eugénie was sure—would agree they need not find the vicar first. Tomorrow she’d tell him they could make love. She could wait until then, perhaps.
Will’s body tightened as, with shaky fingers, Eugénie applied the salve. If her maid hadn’t been present, he’d have found a way to claim her now. As it was, he’d have to distract both of them. “Who lives on this floor?”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he wanted to run his tongue down its length. “My brother, Benet, and me.”
“You led me to believe you lived with the other children.”
“Non.”She shook her head. “You chose to think that, and I did not correct you.”
He willed his body to relax. “I would never have forced my attentions on you.”
“I know, but you would have made it . . . difficult to refuse you.”
“You’re right.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly. “I did say I love you for your intelligence.” He buttoned his shirt and sniffed. What had she put on him? “What was in the salve you used? It doesn’t smell bad at all.”
“Aloe, a plant we have here known for its healing properties, and a bit of lavender.”
His neck was already starting to feel better. Will retied his cravat. “Let’s find everyone. We have a great deal to do.”
A line appeared in her forehead. “There is notsomuch. We shall take provisions from the house, and pack—”
He kissed her. “There is if we must find a place to hide Tidwell’s body.”
“Oh, that.” She laughed. “I will throw him overboard for the sharks.”
Will dragged Eugénie onto his lap, ignoring the shocked gasp from her maid. As far as he was concerned, the woman would have to get used to displays of affection or find another position. “You’re a bloodthirsty wench.”
Eugénie gave an exaggerated sigh. “It has always been my failing.” Her lips brushed his neck. “I protect my own.”
“As do I.”
Another sigh was heard from across the room. Will glanced over. He couldn’t believe it. The maid stood with her hands clasped, a wistful expression on her face, as if she were watching a Drury Lane play. At least there would be no trouble from that quarter.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t kill Tidwell,” Will whispered. “We could play matchmaker.”
Eugénie slid a look at her maid, pursing her lips. “Hmm, we shall see how they get along.”
“I was teasing.”
She widened her lovely brown eyes. “I am not. I do not understand why they should not be happy as well.”
