“You smell like spring,” he whispered into her hair.
“I told you, it isn’t spring, or any other damned season, Leo. It’s soap.”
“I want to marry you. As soon as I am able to leave this bed. You might even be with child again. I took no precautions at all. Not that it seemed to make any difference the first time. The point is, you are obviously very fertile and—”
“What a terrible proposal. Possibly the worst one imaginable.” Her palm covered his heart. “I’m not even sure I should accept. You put no thought into it at all.”
“Agreed. I’ve been stuck in this bloody bed with no time to prepare.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt the weight of his eyelids pushing him toward sleep. Daniel had settled on his chest, his breathing even and deep.
“But my answer is still yes.”
“Good,” he whispered before drifting off.
* * *
“MayI get out of bed now?”
“Dr. Olsen has expressly forbidden you moving about unless it is to see to your needs.”
Her one concession to Leo’s humiliation, after he’d found out it had been Georgina who saw to every aspect of his care. He’d assumed a faceless male servant had rendered aid while Leo was unconscious. Or as unappealing as it was, Cooke. But not so much as a nurse had been brought in.
No. Only Georgina, Lilian had assured him.
Lilian had taken to visiting him in the afternoons, keeping him company so that Georgina could rest. She read to him in her lovely, lilting voice, which, Leo informed her, didn’t sound at all like a wounded goose. Lilian was so pale and fragile after all that had happened. Leo imagined her a wisp or a fine piece of lace that had somehow taken human form. He worried for her.
Leo pushed himself up against the headboard. “I tell you I’m fine, Georgina. I need to walk about.”
“Yes, you mentioned you didn’t need help last week right after you pranced over to the washbasin and collapsed on the floor.”
“Pranced. Trotted. What am I? A bloody horse at Tattersalls?” He caught a glimpse of her hips through the simple muslin gown she wore. Her hair was pulled back into a thick braid flung over one shoulder. Tiny sprigs of gold curled about her temples and ears. If he didn’t know better, he’d think her a complete innocent. Fresh and dewy.
Like bloody spring.It wasnotthe soap.
“A week ago,” he grumbled. Horribly embarrassing. He’d fainted. Like a virgin on her wedding night. “But as you can see, Georgie, I’m feeling much better.” He stroked the twitching bulge beneath the sheet.
“Absolutely not.” She puffed at a stray curl that had fallen across one eye. “You’ll tear your stitches.”
“Lock the fucking door, Georgina.”
A bit of pink darkened her cheeks at his language. She shot a glance at his cock, growing larger by the moment, on her way to the door. But she obeyed, throwing the lock, and stood to regard him with her hands on her hips. “You are not to move. I will do everything.” She walked to the washbasin and dipped a clean cloth into the water.
“Well, that takes all the fun out of it.”
“You could use a bath anyway.”
“I’m not a helpless child.” His cock twitched again.
She pressed a long, luscious kiss to his lips. “I will be very angry,” she whispered against his mouth, “if your stitches open. You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
Slowly, she pulled the sheet down across his hips, tugging when the cotton caught on him. Taking the cloth, she moved it over his skin. She took a great deal of time making sure his nipples were clean before moving lower.
His stomach muscles jumped.
Careful to stay away from the bandage on his right side, Georgina ran the cloth over his ribs and across his hip. Gently cupping his balls, she pretended first to examine then clean him in a very suggestive way with the cloth.
A groan left him. “What are you doing?”
