He looked up. “I don’t want to scar you.”
“Tell me?”
“If your brother was anything like how I was… he quite possibly sought female companionship, so I visited a brothel,” he continued. “I need to ask you a very important question though, when exactly did your brother disappear? I have to narrow down the time.”
“Between three months and two years,” she said, grimacing. “I should have told you before.”
He gave her a slanted smile. “I just started, love. It’s fine.”
Her heart jumped.Love, he said love.
“I will try tomorrow evening, but first—” He swung his legs over the bed, bent, and scooped Bridget up into his arms. “—let’s get you to bed.”
Holding onto his arm, she stayed still as he carried her to her bedchamber and rested her on the bed. At the side, she watched as he stripped his shirt off and removed his trousers to stay in his small clothes.
And when her gaze fell upon his body, her breath caught. The man was a sight to behold. He was lean, yet his torso, shoulders, arms, and legs were still strong and finely muscled. A mat of dark hair covered his chest, arrowing to a thin line upon his ridged belly and down to the band of his small clothes.
The moment his knee pressed on the bed, her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. He cocked his head to the side, “I am not attacking you, my sweet. Do not look so horrified.”
Huffing, she snagged a pillow and smacked him lightly. “Don’t mock me.”
Laying beside her, he pulled her into his side, “Let's mark off sleeping with a man off your debutante list.”
She laughed, then pillowed her head on his arm, “In the same token, you have never slept with a virgin, have you?”
“Never,” he muttered. “Virgins seem… tricky. All my life, I have preferred women who knew their way with bedsport, but I suppose they all had to start somewhere.”
Her brows lifted. “Is that your way of saying I should… begin with you?”
William laughed. “Not at all, but so far, I have realized you do have feminine passion, unplumbed passion at that, but in your heart of hearts, you must be asking of all the men you might have discovered it with, why did it have to be me, a seasoned rake.”
“You are proud, self-assured, even flippant at times, but you are a good man. You’ve made mistakes and are self-aware enough to take the steps to correct them.”
He peered at her. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Now—” He gently turned her on her side, wrapped an arm around her middle, and pulled her into his chest. “We sleep. I need to see my uncle tomorrow.”
Despite his indifferent tone, she sensed the underlying tension. Felt it in his body. His arm was a possessive steel band around her and the feeling uncurled a deep-seated need inside her—male comfort. His scent enveloped her and cocooned with his body, she slipped off to slumber.
It was the absence of his arm around her middle that woke Bridget and instantly, she sought out William. Had he left? Turning over, she saw he was there still, his eyes were closed, the blemish on his jaw faded yet pronounced against his tanned skin.
His brows were smoothed out from their usual harsh knit, his ordinarily taut jaw now lax in sleep. Beneath the blanket, his chest rose and fell in slow, deep surges. It seemed impossible that her strong, potent husband could be this vulnerable.
Her words to her godmother came flooding back.William Hartwellwas nothing like the world took him to be, and she now knew why—it was a shield. Yes, she had no doubt he’d been wild in his younger days, but he was a good man now, smart, witty, kind, and oh-so-handsome.
It hit her like the first icy splash of morning ablutions. Could she be developing feelings for William?
“Ah!” The gasp punched itself from her as her back met the bed, William looming over her, pinning her hands over her head.
His eyes were sleep-laden, his hair ruffled and bed-tousled, his jaw dusted with dark stubble. Eyes coasting over her face, he whispered, “I could feel you watching me in my sleep.”
“I was admiring you,” she corrected.
His lips twitched, “How was your first night sleeping beside a man?”
Her cheeks tinged red. “It was…”
“No lies, sweetheart.”
“…Sublime,” she replied, tamping down on her embarrassment at admitting it. “Your hold on me was… oddly comforting.”
