Page 13 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

Well, that was an embarrassment. “I can help myself,” he said, then swayed forward several feet, whereby he was forced to grab the bedpost to steady himself.

“You most assuredly cannot.” She hurried to his side, offering her shoulder for support. “You’re flapping about like a wounded butterfly.”

“A butterfly?” he asked, snorting.

“And with a candle lit,” she scolded him. “In your condition. Do you wish to set the house on fire?”

She guided him to the side of the bed, a humiliation he endured only because it gave him another chance to be closer to her. He did, however, refuse to sit at her urging. He was a fully grown man, not a bloody butterfly. He had not personally answered to anyone in years. He had no intention of allowing this bit of silk and satin, even if she was a Boscastle, to give him orders.

“I don’t want to get into bed again.”

“Get into that bed,” she said.

“I shall do so only when and if I please.”

Emma steeled her spine. She knew what he was about. Charming when he chose, belligerent when he didn’t get his own way. To think he would represent the aristocracy as a peer of the realm, for no matter what the circumstances of his return, he was by law a duke’s firstborn and would inherit.

“Physical and emotional strain will not heal your head wound,” she said briskly. “Get under those covers right now.”

He stood his ground, smiling at her in challenge. The woman thought to master him? “Did you hear what I just said?” he asked her.

“It is difficult not to when you are growling in my face,” she replied evenly.

He reclined suddenly on the bed. Not because this deceptively demure-looking gentlewoman so ordered him, but because he was overcome by an unexpected wave of dizziness.

“Growling?” He frowned darkly at her. “I’m barely talking above a whisper. If I really wanted to growl, I could bring down the walls.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She snapped the coverlet over his shoulders, apparently not intimidated by his assertion. “But what would you prove by such an ill-mannered display? You’d only end up making your head ache all the more. It’s not me you’ll punish but yourself.”

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly he found himself tucked back into bed, with Emma standing at his side, looking uncharitably satisfied and all the more irresistible for what she’d accomplished. The most puzzling, if not humiliating, part of the situation was that he half enjoyed how she fussed over him. It wasn’t the usual attention he drew from a woman, but it pleased him, nonetheless. Naturally, it also led his mind to consider what other pleasures she might offer to console him.

“Why do you and your brother insist on waking me up every hour?” he asked, studying her closely.

“The physician instructed us to keep watch over you.”

“Why?” he asked in a surly voice, curious to see whether he could unnerve her. The few ladies he’d encountered in London who weren’t afraid to associate with him seemed intrigued by his past, not to mention his inheritance.

Emma was a more difficult one to decipher. “We’re checking you for confusion,” she replied. “Changes in temperament and so on.”

He grunted. “Really. And how the devil would you know, may I ask?”

She plumped the pillows up behind his shoulders. He’d be spoon-fed next and taken out in a chair to the garden. “How would I know what?”

“Whether my temperament has changed or not.” He burrowed his shoulders deeper into the pillows, forcing her to work harder to arrange them. He didn’t fool her, either. She gave him a quick, cross look before she leaned against his chest to finish. He drew a breath and felt his damned cock growing hard at her nearness. He’d not had sex with a woman, let alone found one attractive, for so long, he’d begun to wonder if something was wrong with him. Emma Boscastle, bless her, quite pleasantly disabused him of that disturbing concern.

She forced her voice into a patient tone even though she was clenching her teeth. “For one thing, you seemed quite reasonable today before your foolhardy act of bravery. I expect you’re regretting the impulse now.”

“On the contrary. I only wish I’d hit the other man before he got away.”

“You shouldn’t work yourself into a state.”

“I shall work myself into whatever state I feel like, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Her pretty mouth firmed. “The physician said you would be restrained if you did not rest.”

“It would take more than that bearded bag of oats to keep me down.”

“I do have brothers,” she said, narrowing her eyes.