Lucia frowned and glanced at Dashing.
The boy tried to sit up, only to fall back again feebly. “Like hell you’re sharing a room with her. She stays with me.”
“John—” Lucia put a hand on his chest, but Alex drew her away.
“Sorry, Dashing, but you’re in no position to protect her right now. I’ve already decided.”
“No,” the boy croaked, trying to rise. “I won’t allow it.”
“John.” Lucia tried to go to him, but Alex held her back. She frowned at him before turning back to her brother. “John, I’ll just be next door, on the other side of this wall. Rest. Please. We have a lot ahead of us still.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Selbourne.”
Alex turned back. Dashing was propped on his elbows, his stare hard. “Will you swear not to touch her? Give me your word as a gentleman.”
Alex regarded him coolly. “Get some rest,” he said, then closed the door.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It was dark by the time Alex unlocked the door and entered the small room. He lifted the candle, and the light illuminated the figure of Lucia, curled into a ball on the bed, hand fisted under her chin. She’d shrieked and bellowed when he’d left her—accusing him of making her a prisoner and asking if abandoning her was what he considered protection, but Alex had set his jaw, shut the door, and locked it. He hated to leave her, but Freddie was in the room beside her, and Alex needed to make preparations for the trip to Calais.
She didn’t wake when he returned, so he sat on the mattress and brushed her long, golden hair from her face. Even travel-stained, she was utterly ravishing. Each time he saw her was like the first, his breath taken away. He was a fool to let her go. But he would be a bigger fool to fall in love with her.
He stroked her hair again, and she yawned, rolled onto her back, then squinted up at him. She wore only her chemise, and the thin material was nearly transparent. He steeled himself against the wave of dizzying arousal that hit him. Those exotic blue eyes were watching him, half closed, and he could not resist leaning down to taste her full lips. He told himself that in a few hours she would be on a ship for England. He told himself this was the last of the last times. After the events of the past few days, he needed her.
She tasted sweet, her lips ripe strawberries for him to sample. With his guidance, they parted for him, and he kissed her more deeply. Her arms wrapped around him, increasing the contact between their bodies, and her sleep-warmed body fired his desire.
His lips had strayed to the hollow of her throat and his hand to her calf when he heard the rapping on the door and came to his senses. Bloody hell! How did she do this to him every time?
“I ordered some water for a bath.” He pulled away from her quickly, jerking the sheets over her. She blinked at him, then nodded. Reaching for the pistol in his tailcoat, he opened the door.
“Here you are, sir.” A large man and an equally hefty woman lumbered into the center of the room carrying a brass tub. They dropped it with a thump. A serving girl followed and poured several pitchers of steaming water into it.
“Would ye like me to light a fire?” the woman asked when the girl had finished with the water. Alex nodded, paying her a few francs after she had done so.
“No more interruptions,” he told the woman as she left. Lucia was standing near the tub, sheet clutched around her, and poking at the soap and towels with her toe. She was also frowning. Now what?
“Why did you kiss me just now?” she said, not looking at him.
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I don’t know,” he answered finally.
“Is it because I was convenient?”
“Convenient? What does that—” Then he remembered. Camille. “Lucia, don’t tell me you’re angry about what I said to Camille.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” She poked the towels with her foot again.
“If I’d meant it, but I was saying what she wanted to hear.”
“And do you do that often?” She gave him a penetrating look.
“Do what?” The sheet she’d draped over her shoulders had fallen open, and the creamy white skin of her breasts and the light pink of her nipples was visible through the gauzy material of her chemise.
“Tell women what they want to hear.”
He scowled. “Are you are implying I’ve done so with you?”
“No. I asked for nothing, and you’ve given nothing. We should leave it at that.”
