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When he turned to look for Sissy it was to find she was already on her way home. He could see that she was upset. Rather than waste any more time with Arthur, Morgan jumped down from the Barouche and raced down the street to talk to her before she could disappear.
‘I am sorry, Sissy,’ he began only to slam to a halt when he reached her.
His mouth fell open when he got a good look at her. The words he had intended to say vanished. His stunned mind struggled to focus on anything more than what he was witnessing. Sissy’s dress had indeed been soaked. The once cream dress, liberally adorned with tiny rosebuds and capped sleeves, was now liberally covered with large wet, brown stains. That wasn’t what shocked Morgan. It was the way the near transparent material clung lovingly to every dip and curve of her body leaving nothing to his imagination. Glancing about wildly, Morgan tried to think of what he could do. Stepping closer to protect her from wandering eyes, Morgan shook out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
‘No. I am fine, thank you,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘The fine material will be ruined.’
‘I don’t care,’ Morgan argued. ‘Take it.’
He tugged it around her shoulders and held the edges together for her when she refused to take it off him. He glared over his shoulder at the occupants of his Barouche but he knew there was no room for her even if he did offer to take her home.
‘Come on, I will escort you home,’ he announced grimly.
Sissy looked from Morgan to the pretty women in his carriage and felt her heart sink. She truly did feel unworthy of even being in his presence, and that was before the locals stood gawping at the spectacle they created in the middle of the street.
‘I have to go,’ Sissy whispered, stepping away from him.
‘I am not going to abandon you here,’ Morgan argued.
Sissy slid another look at the carriage. ‘Your friends are waiting.’
To her annoyance, the driver of the curricle was grinning unrepentantly at her, as if he found what he had done highly amusing. Sniffing miserably, Sissy held her clammy skirt away from her legs.
‘I take it that the oaf driving that thing is one of your friends, is he?’ she asked coldly.
‘No. Yes. He is one of Mariette’s friends,’ Morgan replied.
Sissy struggled not to cry. She lifted her hand to take the edges of the jacket off him not least because having him touch her, even through the folds of his jacket, created emotions that made her want to cry even harder.
‘I need to go,’ Sissy whispered.
‘Take the jacket,’ Morgan urged.
To anybody who was looking at them, Morgan was holding the edges of the jacket together for her in the most gentlemanly of ways. Only Sissy was aware of their fingers touching, and the fission of awareness that jolted to life between them. She couldn’t move her hands either, or the folds of the jacket would open and fall off her shoulders. It was several sizes too big for her but thankfully the folds, and the residual warmth from his body, kept her from getting too cold.
‘You need to get out of those wet clothes,’ Morgan murmured, his voice husky with desire.
Sissy sniffed. ‘Thank you. I will see that the jacket is returned to you when it has been dried out and cleaned.’
‘Sissy,’ Morgan groaned. He couldn’t let her walk down the street where anybody could see what God had graced her with.
She will have every eligible bachelor within a ten-mile radius sniffing at her doorstep within the hour if they see her like that.
‘Let me escort you,’ Morgan pleaded.
‘I can manage,’ Sissy snapped impatiently. ‘I would have been able to go on my way if it wasn’t for your insufferably arrogant friend.’
Morgan, taken aback by her temper, stared at her. It was the first time he had seen her eyes flash, and her cheeks turn pink with temper. With her hair drooping soggily about her shoulders, and rain trickling off her cheeks, she looked wild; r
eady to lash out at anybody who happened to annoy her.
God, she is stunning.
Morgan instinctively stepped closer. His eyes fell to her lips. The world around them, the busy street, the curious pedestrians, even the carriages waiting down the street, all faded into the background. Sissy became his world.
‘Morgan?’
Morgan jerked away just as he was about to lean down to kiss her. He mentally cursed and ran a frustrated hand down his face. There was little he could do about his annoyance when he turned to glare at the woman who had approached them without either he or Sissy hearing her.
