From the first moment he’d kissed her in Everdene Hall, he had fought this battle to maintain the dam he’d built to hold back the feelings she unleashed in him. He’d surrounded himself with rigid rules in an effort to retain control. He could feel the walls cracking, yet in this moment he didn’t give a damn. He’d shore them up later…after he’d buried himself, not just in herbody, but in all that was Grace, her compassion, her humor, her courage. This woman who was life and light and—God alone knew why—wantedhim.
He took her hand, drew her up the stairs to her bedchamber before caution could intrude. Once inside, he locked her door, fumbling with the laces up the back of her dress, eager to strip away any barrier between them.
“God, you are delectable,” he murmured as he pulled down one side of her bodice and chemise, revealing a creamy shoulder. He pressed hot kisses to the skin he’d bared as he backed her toward the bed. The ropes squeaked as he lay her on the mattress and followed her down, shifting his body atop hers. His hand slipped under her skirt. “I want to devour every inch of you.”
Suddenly she went absolutely still, her gasp anything but one of pleasure.
“Lucien…Lucien, wait.”
He didn’t think he could. His hunger for her surged as his hand reached the thin skin of her inner thigh above her stocking, but he forced himself to stop, confused. A moment ago, she had seemed as eager for their love play as he was.
“What…what was that sound?” she whispered, tugging her bodice back into place.
He froze, listening. Then he heard it, too. A shuffling beneath the…bed?
Threats he’d received the past months echoed in his head. The idea Grace might be in danger hardened in a knot in his belly.
Lucien rolled off the mattress onto the floor, crouching on his hands and knees, to peer beneath the bed. There was a smudge of something pale in the shadowy space, a sound like the squawk of a beast in a snare. He thrust his arm beneath the bed, grabbing something warm, writhing. Alive! Whatever hehad laid hold of fought like a demon as he dragged it toward him. Suddenly pain spiked through the fleshy part of his hand as the creature sank its teeth into Lucien. He swore, tightened his hold, dragging his assailant out into the open—a kicking, cursing…boy!
He collared the lad, hauling him upright into the light. The child was a grimy, smelly mess, his face smeared with something that might have been food at one time.
“Avery!” Grace cried, shocked. “What on earth? How—how in the world did you get here?”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. One look at his attacker was like being plunged in that chilly lake again, the shock, the dismay. The boy wrenched free, scrambling onto the bed and into his sister’s arms.
Lucien rubbed the place on his hand where a half-circle of tiny cuts stung. “He bit me!”
“You frightened him,” Grace said, holding the boy tight.
“Finding someone under my bed when I am about to make—er, be with my wife startled me as well, but I didn’t sink my teeth into the boy.” Lucien found his handkerchief and wrapped it around his bleeding hand.
It stung, but not so much as the strange loss of balance he felt inside. Did he glimpse the slightest hint of her dimple winking in that pink cheek?
“Avery, whatever are you doing here?” Grace asked. “How long have you been…?”
“Dunno. After breakfast. Hid under the bed after the maid made it up. Fell asleep.”
“Well, it’s almost dark. We’ll have to send a note to The Willows telling them that you’re here. We can’t take you home until morning.”
“I’m not going home! Not ever. I’m going to join the navy.”
Lucien winced, remembering Simon in the heat of anger.
I’ll join the cavalry. You cannot stop me.It was a choice that had all but destroyed him.
Lucien expected Grace to quell her brother’s nonsense at once. Instead, she said quietly, “Lucien, may I borrow one of your shirts for him to sleep in?”
Lucien pressed his handkerchief to the wound and glared for a moment. “Are you actually suggesting I hand one of my bespoke, perfectly tailored shirts to this little fiend?”
The lad would probably dump the nearest ink pot onto it out of spite.
“We can hardly dress him in one of my pelisses.”
With a grim set to his jaw, Lucien went into his room and retrieved one of his least-favored shirts.
The boy took it with a grudging expression.
“Avery, are you hungry?” Grace asked. “When is the last time you ate?”
