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She glanced at him. He had blood on his cheek, where he’d been hit by the soldier in the cemetery. “Your cheek,” she said. “Quickly! Clean off the blood.”
While she struggled with her gown, he rinsed his cheek using the water pitcher and basin on the room’s small table. When he was finished, she was still fumbling with fastenings. “That looks better,” she said. “I”—there was no room for modesty now—“can you help me with this gown?” She could remove it herself but not quickly. He crossed to her, unfastening his cravat as he did so. Her heart kicked when she saw the bronze skin of his throat, but she tried to ignore the sensation. His dishabille was about survival, not lust.
She turned, offering him her back, and he made quick work of her tapes and laces. If she had suspected he’d undressed women before, she no longer had to wonder. He obviously knew what he was about.
As the gown slipped from her shoulders, she felt heat rise in her cheeks. But she couldn’t afford to be self-conscious. Below them, she heard the boots of the soldiers click on the wood floors and the bark of an angry order. Alex’s soft, seductive voice answered, and all quieted for a few moments. Gabrielle stood shivering in her chemise and petticoats. Behind her, Sedgwick was warm. She imagined he’d be even warmer once they climbed into the small bed together.
“You’d better hurry,” he directed.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw he’d removed his shirt. Taking a deep breath, she slipped out of her petticoats and tossed them onto the floor. Next, she removed her stockings. Naked but for her chemise, she pulled back the coverlet.
Sedgwick’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Take it all off,” he told her.
Anger and indignation rose in her veins. Her face felt hot, but she heard the soldiers’ boots on the stairs. With a huff of protest, she dropped her chemise about her ankles and climbed into the bed. Sedgwick doused the candle and firelight illuminated the room. In that amber glow, she could see he’d disrobed completely as well.
It had been a long time since she’d seen a man naked.
A very long time.
She’d had little with which to compare George’s body. Certainly, she’d seen paintings and statues of the male figure. George had been nicely proportioned, his body warm and satisfying to her.
But he did not look like Sedgwick. Where George had been rather soft and pudgy about the middle—still housing baby fat and adding to it with overindulgence at the gambling tables—Sedgwick was all hard planes and ridges. Muscles rippled along his sleek shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen had the terrain of a rugged mountain ridge, and his legs were sculpted as though by an artist.
She tried not to focus too much on that middle part of him, but it had been a long time.
And she was curious.
She did not see much, as he was moving quickly to climb into bed with her, but what she saw convinced her he did not look so different from her husband there.
He caught her looking at him as he pulled back the coverlet on the other side of her. “What did you think?” he asked, sliding into bed next to her.
She had been right. His body was warm. But it wasn’t soft. No, not in the least.
“What kind of question is that?” she bristled.
“Embarrassed because I caught you looking?” He was propped on one elbow and smiled down at her. “Ilooked.”
“Sedgwick!”
“I give you leave to address me as Ramsey.”
“I have a better name, you arrog—“
His mouth descended on hers, cutting off her next words and leaving her breathless. She wanted to protest—the last dregs of her survival instinct surfacing—but she heard the soldiers on the landing.
“Forget about them,” Ramsey whispered, drawing the sheet down and caressing her breast with his hand. “Think about what I’m doing.”
“Right,” she said, trying to sound unaffected, an actress playing the part of his lover. “Of course.”
But she did not feel like an actress when his fingers rubbed her nipple, causing it to peak and harden. She did not feel like an actress when he pulled the sheet down farther, exposing her naked breast and belly to his sight. She did not feel like an actress when his mouth—good God that mouth—trapped her earlobe between two teeth and worried it gently.
She was actually arching for him, turning into him.
The soldiers outside the room spoke, but that wasn’t what made her pause. She felt him, hot and hard between them, and realized she wished the soldiers were gone. She wished it really were just the two of them, and that they could see this through to the end.
“Ready?” Ramsey glanced up, met her gaze.
“Yes,” she said, surprised at how husky her voice sounded.
