Page 45 of Marquess of Fortune


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“May I…” she started, swallowing as she cleared her throat. Then she held up the supplies. “I came to tend you.”

He opened the door and pulled her inside, closing it quickly behind her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. I was just worried and I wanted to say thank you—” But her words were cut off as his mouth descended over hers. And then she forgot all the words as his kiss stole the air from her lungs and the words from her lips.

She wrapped her arms about his bare neck, the feel of his skin under her hands so much more than she’d ever dreamed. Her fingers danced over the muscles, tracing the ridges as his mouth devoured hers.

Her fingertips slipped down his arms until, suddenly, he shuddered.

She gasped, realizing she’d touched his wound. “Oh! I’m so sorry.”

He smiled down at her. “It’s fine.”

She looked down his arm, seeing the angry red slash across his biceps. “Let me help you.”

With a nod, he crossed to take a seat as she uncorked the brandy. He hissed as she poured the amber liquid over the wound. Despite his many assertions that he was fine, she realized that his face was paler than normal, his features drawn. Gently, she wrapped the arm in clean linen and then secured the end.

Without thought, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You should rest.”

He gave a quick nod. “Would you mind leaving the brandy? Might help me sleep.”

“Of course.” She turned to go but his hand came to her hip. He pulled her close, his head coming to rest on her chest just above her bosom.

As he let out a long breath, she wrapped her arms about his neck, pressing her cheek to the top of his head. “Thank you for saving my life today. I—” So many words crowded her mouth. How much she cared. How no man had ever been as brave or strong as him.

But he gave his head the smallest shake. “This is thanks enough.”

And then he settled her closer.

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