“You truly couldn’t smile?” she blurted the first thing that popped into her mind.
Anything to veer away from her dragons and the treacherous sea they swam in.
“I could do little but grimace, so tight was the skin around my scar,” he told her, one finger worrying the pale seam marring the left side of his face. “Nor did I have much cause to smile in those days.”
“You’re smiling now.”
“So I am,” he said, a twinkle lighting his good eye. “Times change, and I find I have much to be pleased about these days.”
“Linnet may have enchanted you, my lord, but I am sure you beguiled her as well.”
As you are now beguiling me.A truth that surprised her almost as much as discovering her fingers dipping into the healing unguent.
Dipping most eagerly.
Looking quite pleased with himself, he said, “So you think I’m a charmer?”
“I think you cast some sort of spell over my sister.” It was as close to the truth as she’d go. “Especially if you smiled at her like that.”
With the same heart-melting smile that now drew her unguent-smeared fingers to the bruised flesh of his ribs.
They hovered there, just above his skin.
Too shy to touch him, too captivated to retreat.
He gave a short laugh. “Lady, I admire your sister greatly, but I never once looked at her as I am now looking at you.” He glanced at her hovering fingers. “And never have I craved a woman’s touch more than I desire yours this moment.”
Caterine’s pulse quickened.
Unfortunately, she also swallowed.
Not a dainty, lady-like attempt to recover her composure, but a bold, hopefully not too audible gulp.
With effort, she tore her gaze from the taut-muscled plane of his abdomen and her wavering, ointment-coated fingertips. She looked up to discover he no longer smiled, but peered at her as if he could see into each and every corner of her soul.
Even more disturbing, she had the impression he was doing the one thing she didn’t want…
He was wooing her.
Chapter 20
“Shall we begin?” Sir Marmaduke’s voice came rougher than he’d intended, but he thanked the saints he could speak at all. So much depended on this moment, this danger-fraught foray into winning Lady Caterine’s trust.
Her heart, body, and soul.
One false look, word, or touch, and he could lose her. The risk sat like a cold knot in his gut, his own doubts riding his shoulders, weighing him down more than if he’d heaved a sack of stones across his back.
So when she said nothing, he answered himself…
“Yes, it is time,” he said, holding her gaze. Then he curled his fingers around her wrists and guided her hands the rest of the way to his midsection. He used his own hands to keep hers pressed lightly against his flesh, moving her salve-dipped fingers in slow, comfort-spending circles over his sore ribs and his stomach.
He also took great care to assure that her fingertips slid over each sculpted ridge of muscle he possessed.
Her soft gasp rewarded his efforts.
Marmaduke smiled.
His heart sang, for her quick indrawn breath couldn’t be mistaken for anything but what it was: a sign of female appreciation.
