As his eyes adjusted he could make out the womanly silhouette of her enough to detect that she was lying on her belly. Ah, yes. There was her bottom, delightfully rounded.
“You’re not wearing a shirt.”
Her observation stole a chuckle from him. “You’ve only just noticed now? Silly me, for I thought you were under here watching me undress.”
“I wasn’t watching,” she denied, the tone of her voice giving her away.
“You were,” he said softly, amused. “You’re a dreadful liar, my dear.”
She wriggled about, then made a frustrated sound. “Do you intend to keep me trapped here for eternity, or will you help me?”
Oh, ho. He was not about to allow her such an easy escape. No, indeed. His wicked little ward was going to have to suffer for her sins.
“What a curious minx you are,” he said, ignoring her. “I never would have guessed. You needn’t have hidden yourself away beneath my bed to catch a glimpse of the male form. Though youdidchoose an excellent specimen when you decided to play the spy. If you’d have asked nicely, I would have shown you whatever you liked.”
“You… I never would have… I didn’t wish to… You utterly insufferable…”
Her furious sputtering trailed away.
“No need to rush, my dear.” He flashed a grin into the shadows. “Doesn’t look as if you’ll be going anywhere any time soon.”
Her bottom moved some more, quite suggestively this time, followed by the sound of rending fabric. “Oh good heavens, now I’ve ripped it!”
“Never fear,” he drawled. “My sister will be more than happy to take you on a shopping excursion to find one replacement for you and ten for herself.”
He really did have to speak with Pamela about her expenditures, now that he thought upon it.Frivolousdidn’t begin to describe her. And yes, he was bribing her to keep Lady Virtue occupied and well away from him. But look at how that bribery was faring now, with the chit stuffed beneath his bloody bed.
Not that he was particularly displeased to find her at his mercy, in his chamber. Nor was it a chore to watch her squirming with such delectable frustration, having been caught in her nonsense.
“You’ve had your laugh at my expense, Ridgely,” she muttered.
This was the most delightful diversion he’d experienced in years.
His grin deepened. “Oh, but I’ve only just begun.”
“Can you reach my gown? I can’t seem to find the place where it is caught, and I’d hate to cause further damage.”
Her discomfiture was heightening by the moment. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Lady Virtue so ill at ease. Little wonder. He poked his head a bit deeper into the shadows, her sweet floral scent taunting him. It was a ghastly little space, and quite warm. Still, she had to pay for her misadventure.
“Hmm,” he hummed, sliding his right arm across the carpet, the wool of the Axminster lightly abrading his bare skin and reminding him he remained without a shirt. This could get decidedly dangerous if he didn’t take care. His cock was still mercilessly hard, but that was likely due to all the writhing of her luscious bum. “First, I’m afraid you must tell me what it is you are doing under my bed.”
“Is it not plain, you scoundrel? I was hiding from you.”
He clucked his tongue in chastising fashion. “It’s hardly properly done of you to call me names, when I am the injured party, my dear.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.” He felt about in the darkness and his hand connected with the warm give of feminine flesh beneath layers of gown and petticoat.
Her thigh, he thought, giving it a tender squeeze to investigate. And that was a mistake, for he liked it too much, that touch. In the darkness, the eroticism of her watching him disrobe leaving him in a rather rude state, he could not deny that it was far easier to forget why he ought not to touch her.
His fingers flexed of their own accord. God, so much sweet softness. So much lush femininity. And she had been watching him quietly from her hiding place as he stripped off his garments one by one. At any moment, she might have called out and stopped him. Yet, she hadn’t. He suspected he knew the reason why.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Seeking the place where your dress is caught,” he said, sweeping his hand lower, following the line of her limb, the dip behind her knee, the curve of her calf. He leveraged himself on the carpet, partially wedging himself deeper into the abyss so that he could find her ankle.
It was every bit as wonderful a fit in his palm as he had imagined when he’d admired it from below on his library ladder. Saving her from this latest scrape was utter torture.
