“I have it from here, my lady,” he said.
He quietly closed the door separating them from the outside world and then crossed to the opposing side of the bed and sat on the edge, his back to her. “Let us leave our robes on,” he instructed.
She did not answer, but he felt the other side of the bed dip. Aaran waited until he she tugged the linens upward before he blew out the candle, kicked off his slippers, turned and lifted his bad leg onto the bed and followed it with his good one before pulling the linens up to his chest. He reached for her and tugged Lady Freya into his arms. “How long should I suspect you to be awake?”
“I do not know,” she said. She lay beside him as stiff as a frozen animal during a Scottish gale, and the idea of this brave, wonderful woman being afraid of what could transpire between them made him smile. He would not steal her innocence, for, if something happened to him, and she were made to marry Sir Patrick Hodge, the baronet could legally beat her to death if helearned she was unchaste, and nothing would be done to the man until Aaran privately exacted his own revenge.
Unsurprisingly, Aaran was more aware than he should be of the heat of her body along his side and her hand resting on his chest.Perhaps this was not such a good choice. He could feel the warm curves of her body lining his side. “Rest, my lady,” he instructed. “You will require your wits about you to prevent your father from learning of this adventure.”
He turned ever so slightly to relieve the stiffness in his injured leg, resting his calf over one of her legs.God, his mind announced,she is perfect. He could feel the sleek warm curves of her body aligned perfectly with his. She was not fighting him anymore. Her fingers clung to the embroidered trim along the front of his robe, and her hips ceased to move when she realized how snugly they fit together.
His eyes lowered to where she looked up to him. His fingers lifted the satin fall of her hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
The moment held between them. Neither breathed, but they moved together, nevertheless. Aaran lowered his mouth to claim hers. Her lips parted with a gentle hiss, and Aaran covered her mouth with his. Her palm caressed his cheek, and he wished he had asked Mr. Dideon for a quick shave so the stubble would not burn her skin. Her hands slid behind his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. Sweet heaven had arrived.
The tips of her breasts pearled, but Aaran resisted the idea of reaching for them. Instead, he nibbled first along the soft hollow of her cheekbone and onward to that place behind her ear where his tongue circled the lobe and his lips sucked it lightly. He buried his nose in the lavender scent of her hair and sighed.
Freya’s hands slid over his face and hair and clung to his shoulder, finally sliding down the length of his arm to catch his hand. “Aaran,” she moaned.
Every muscle in his body came alive, even those in his twisted leg, each eagerly willing to meet her touch. She turned slightly in his embrace where the center of her femininity was in line with his masculinity. Only bare inches separated them.
“Freya,” he hissed in longing.
Just as she whispered, “Aaran,” a second time.
Reality arrived then, and he sighed heavily. The longing and regret filled him as quickly as had his need for her. He propped himself up on his elbow. “We cannot do this,” he whispered as he again attempted to swallow the desire choking back his denial. “Until I can resolve this issue with someone attacking my family, I must not willingly place you in danger.”
“Do you think me weaker than your brothers’ wives?” she accused as she lay back on the mattress to stare up at the bed drapes.
“God no!” he swore. “You are the most incomparable woman of my acquaintance. There is no one even half as spectacular as you. Yet, I must be earnest. Given everything that has occurred, I cannot be the best choice for you. Unfortunately, this madness may never be over. I will not make promises I cannot keep, especially to you.” He leaned in and kissed the frown marking her forehead. “Now, no more arguing. I shan’t change my mind.”
She studied him before asking, “You will still hold me?”
“I have not the strength to deny you what I also desire,” he said, minus the smile this time. “We both require our rest so we might be fully aware of our surroundings. Moreover, it is a cold night and neither of us should tolerate a chilly bed when a warm one is within reach.” Aaran lay again upon his back and slipped an arm behind her to tug her into his embrace, snuggling her close to his side. “Tell me if you become too warm.”
“I shan’t complain,” she said as she scooted closer to him. Her warm body tormented him with desire. “What is to pass between us…” she began and then paused. Aaran waited for herto finish her thought, but, instead, she snuggled deeper into his embrace before saying, “I suppose I should have asked if there was another woman in your life before I became too attached to you.”
Aaran smiled. Lady Freya was jealous. The idea pleased him. “Go to sleep, Freya, there is no other woman in my life, at least not as you mean, though I did once offer to marry another, and I do not mean Lady Rhonda.”
She started to pull her arm away from where it rested at his waist, but Aaran caught her hand and pressed it back in place.
“Theodora was sad because she thought Marksman preferred Miss Audrey Moreau over her. None of us knew at the time that Miss Moreau was Marksman’s long-lost sister, Lady Annalise Dutton. At Lady Emma’s and Orson’s wedding, Dora and I made a pact that if neither of us was married in two years, we would marry each other. Obviously, all my brothers and my sister have discovered affection. Only I am a single in a world designed for couples.”
“Such is your fault,” she declared with a tut of her tongue.
“I fully accept the blame.”
Aaran felt more alive arguing with this woman, being completely frustrated by her stubbornness, kissing her and loving her, than he had ever been before. Until her, Aaran had officially been afraid to take a chance. No other woman had coaxed those secret hopes awake until Lady Freya stepped down from her father’s coach on a deserted Scottish road and challenged his heart to know love.
“You are downearly,” Duncan said with a lift of his brows in question.
Aaran had slipped from Lady Freya’s room when he heard the servants assisting Hartley and Kepper moving about at the other end of the passageway. He had gently rolled away from the woman and attempted to stand without disturbing her. When he looked back upon her, she was still curled into a tight ball. He had gently lifted the blanket over her and mouthed the words, “Sleep, my love.” Slipping from her room, he had made his way to his quarters and pulled the bell cord for Mr. Dideon’s service.
“I wished to speak to you privately,” he announced. “Before the others come down.”
“I see,” Duncan said with a knowing look before His Lordship asked Thompson’s butler to leave them alone. “I will ring when you are to return.”
“Yes, my lord.”
