The door flew open and Penelope stepped inside, breathless...and so breath-taking,Chev did not think to cover his exposed chest.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his scars—moving from the new one on his side, to the ones that crisscrossed his arms just above the elbow, and then to ones that slashed across his wrist.
His breeches and stockings covered the ones on his thighs and ankles. Even so, she gasped. Her expected horror was almost a relief.
“Lady Cheverley,” Emmaus moved to take the door. “Perhaps it would be better if we stepped outside while the captain dresses.”
“It’s all right, Emmaus,” Cheverley said. “Let the lady look if she is so curious to see.”
“Is it?” she asked, voice quivering. “Is it all right? Because it doesn’t look like it is all right.” She lifted a hand to touch her lips. Her fingers shook. “Anthony says youkilledIrus. Did you?”
Chev tilted his head toward the hearth. “Look there. You’ll find Irus very much alive.”
“I saw the fight,” Emmaus added. “The captain attempted restraint until Irus drew his knife.”
She exhaled and closed her eyes.
“If you cannot bear what you have seen,” Chev said, “You may hand me my shirt.”
Emmaus glanced between them and then cleared his throat. “I believe that is my cue to check on the pigs.”
She and Emmaus shared silent communication Chev could not decipher. She nodded, moved aside, and allowed Emmaus to pass. She clasped her hands behind her back and then turned her gaze on him.
Her heightened color made him aware, not just of his scars, but of his near-nakedness and all the things his nakedness implied.
Though sitting while a lady stood was considered the height of inconsideration, he did not think he could stand.
“Developed a taste for the hideous, have you?” he asked, acid in his voice.
“You are anything but hideous.”
She moved forward until she—unlike his shirt—was well within his reach.
The hooded cloak that tied at her throat hung unevenly. Several locks of her hair had come loose and curled down over her shoulder, resting against her nearly-untied bodice, and the right hook on her bib was one, deep inhale from breaking free.
He swallowed.
This was not the time to begin mentally undressing his wife.
“Did you rush here from Ithwick alone? In the dark?”
She nodded.
“I wish you would have a care for your safety.”
“Howcouldyou admonish me for not thinking of my safety when I was only thinking of yours?” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Butmyconcern doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
Her question slayed.
He imagined pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until she understood she—not just her concern—meant everything to him.
Which was why failing her once again was not an option.
And why he was frozen in indecision.
“Hand me my shirt, would you?” he asked.
“No.” She blushed a telling shade and softened her voice. “What I meant to ask was, will you try this one instead?”
