Page 106 of Aurelia

Aurelia followed, butterflies in her belly. They were alone. Completely alone. On an island. On his island. Or at least one of them.

Once they were in the cozy sitting room his lordship heaped more fuel on the fire and then took two ladder-back chairs and set them in front of the blaze.

“Give me your pelisse,” he said after shucking off his own coat and draping it over the chairback.

Aurelia wanted to look away from his half-undressed torso but could not. At least not until she’d taken a thorough inventory of the way his dark blue waistcoat—embroidered with tiny birds—and blinding white linen sheathed his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and—

“That is soaked.”

His voice jerked her eyes away from the front placket of his doeskin breeches and she felt her face heat when she met his gaze.

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“Your gown is soaked. Go to the smaller of the two bedrooms upstairs. I know Walter keeps it for his daughter’s visits. There should be something for you to wear while we dry out your dress.”

“Oh, surely that isn’t necessary. I am not col—ahchoo!”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

Aurelia sneezed again.

“Go on and change before you catch a serious chill,” he ordered, no longer smiling. “You won’t be offending anyone if you borrow some clothing.”

Aurelia decided it was foolish to sit in a sopping wet gown. After all, she was already on this island, alone, with a notorious rake.

How much worse could she savage her reputation?

***

Roland had spent the last six bloody weeks thinking of nothing but the woman in the other room, terrified that he might have so thoroughly cocked up his own life that he could never have her.

The fact that he had found no evidence of Rebecca in all the places he had searched was not definitive proof that she was not still alive.

But Roland no longer cared. He knew that was reprehensible. But he didn’t care about that, either.

The molten desire that had bubbled not far beneath the surface since the first day Aurelia had entered his library with that milksop Talbot had finally broken through the surface and he was done being patient.

Talbot.

Roland ground his teeth just thinking about the man, who had obviously been making the most of his time with Aurelia while Roland was off on a wild goose chase.

Well, he would take care of that problem today.

He heard a slight scuffle behind him and turned, laughing softly at the sight that met his gaze.

“You are cruel to laugh. It was the warmest thing I could find,” Aurelia said, raising one slender hand to push a lock of damp hair off her brow, the rolled up sleeves of the voluminous blue dress making her wrists look even more delicate.

The gown was amusingly short and wide, ending well above her trim ankles but hanging off her body like a big blue sack.

And yet she had never looked lovelier to him.

She was like a magnificent gem that needed no fancy setting to draw out her beauty.

“Here,” Roland said, handing her a glass of the brandy he’d wisely sent over with all the other delicacies.

She took the glass and sniffed, her adorably upturned nose—the only feature on her classically elegant face that possessed a little whimsey—wrinkling. “What is it?”

“Brandy. It will warm you.”