“You could have hurt yourself. And your grandmother.”
He kept smiling and gathered her in his arms. “Lovely night, innit?”
She closed her eyes while he walked down the corridor to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and stretched out next to her, never leaving her side.
“We should change,” she said.
“I don’t want to call Wilson and Lawson.”
“Fine. I’ll help you, and you’ll help me.” She craned her neck to see his face. The naughty glint he had before rushing down the bannister was still there.
“Excellent suggestion. I’ll start.” He tried to unbutton her gown and tugged at her petticoats at the same time, making a mess.
“Wait. You’re doing it wrong.” She laughed when he didn’t listen but managed to pull down her gown anyway.
With a lot of unnecessary tugging and pulling and her swatting his hands away, she was finally in her chemise and drawers.
“See? Easy.” He ran a slow hand over her body.
“Easy? The room is a mess. My clothes are all crumpled, and I need my nightgown.”
He exhaled dramatically. She chuckled again when he removed her chemise and drawers…and then she didn’t laugh. He stared at her in the same way one would stare at a masterpiece.
He dragged one of his big hands down her body, leaving a path of fire on her skin. He paused on her ribs, a frown appearing on his brow.
“Don’t look.” She snatched the nightgown from the bed and covered the physical signs of the past months.
He let her cover herself before lying next to her. “You can’t possibly be ashamed of your body.”
“It changed, and not for the better.”
“After you rest and eat properly, it’ll return as it was before. You don’t have a scar that will stay there forever. But you don’t have to hide from me.”
She gazed up at him and put her hand on his ruined cheek. He was right. His face was scarred for life. Her body would flourish again.
“I’m sorry. I always say or do the wrong thing with you.”
“Not true. You taught me how to dash down a bannister. I won’t ever forget that.”
She felt all the bumps and edges of the scar with her fingertips. “Neither will your grandmother.”
He let out a deep laugh. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.
“You’re still dressed.”
“Right.”
He sat up on the bed and started with his waistcoat. Just as he’d made a mess with her clothes, he tugged and pulled, discarding the clothes on the chair, or trying to. Half of them ended up on the floor.
When he was in his undergarments. The thin fabric of his undershirt showed his powerful body, and she pressed herself against him when he held her again. He stroked her head and removed the hairpins until her tresses were loose and free.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
As he held and caressed her, she drifted off to sleep, aware she was the luckiest duchess in the world.
