Her jaw dropped. “You don’t?” She wasn’t awake. She had to be dreaming this.
He grinned, touched a finger to her open mouth. “No, I don’t. And I’ll agree to any ultimatum you issue. You’re worth it.” His warm, amber gaze flowed over her, making her insides tingle.
“Am I?” she whispered.
“Most definitely.” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, very slowly and very gently.
When he pulled away, she stared at him. The detached, wary look was gone, and there was a hint of trust in his eyes when he looked at her. Perhaps she was imagining it. After all, this was the man who, rumor had it, trusted no woman since the betrayal. But here she was, in his arms, and he was filling her with joy. And desire.
She knew he felt it too. Even as she watched him, the gold flecks in his eyes sparked and began to burn. He lowered his lashes, glancing down at her mouth, and she found herself eager for him to kiss her again. He would do it gently at first, then with more passion. She shivered.
“You’re cold.” He stood abruptly, depositing her on the chair in one fluid motion. “I’ll start a fire.”
Twenty-six
She let out a huffof indignation and stared at him in confusion. She’d been certain he would kiss her again. And, Lord, how she’d wanted him to. She felt her cheeks heat and was glad his back was to her as he went about the task of stacking the wood and lighting the fire.
His roguish ways must have rubbed off on her because all she could think of was him scooping her into his arms again and kissing her until there was nothing but the feel of his mouth on hers.
Sheshouldsuggest they return inside. They must have been missed at the ball, but she didn’t care. Selbourne would speak with her parents and make sure all the other guests were safe. She was content to let him. All she cared about at that moment was that she was here with Ethan. He finished with the fire, building it up enough so it filled the hospital with a warm glow.
“Better?” he asked, turning to her.
She nodded. With his back to the fire, he was sinfully handsome. His dark hair burnished with copper in the radiance of the firelight, and though the sculpted angles of his jaw and cheekbones were as harsh as ever, she saw how the sensuous line of his lips and the flecks of gold in his otherwise intense eyes softened the effect. He appeared at once stern and sybaritic, severe and sultry. A lethal combination.
But she was shaken out of her admiration when his face took on that serious expression with which she was becoming increasingly familiar. He crossed his arms, and she braced herself.
“Tell me what happened tonight.”
Had she really thought he would leave it alone? She needed his touch, his arms around her, not his questions.
“Francesca?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to staunch the fear in her belly.
“It was stupid, I know, but I accompanied the Duchess of Devonshire onto the terrace. She went inside, but the night was so peaceful, and I—I just needed a moment.”
