“If you say so, Boss.” Fitz, who preferred a small chamber on the ground floor, hesitated, his expression twisted in concern.
“Go on, then.” Leopold forced his voice to sound strong. He couldn’t have the people who depended on him thinking he was made of sugar.
Finally, Fitz acquiesced and left him to it.
Leopold took each step one at a time, and by the time he stood on the landing, he was contemplating whether or not he was going to bother stripping his clothes off. He might just have to sleep in his damp clothes—which reeked of brine and tea. Not even close to ideal, but he’d be lucky to make it to his bed. He wouldn’t bother lighting any candles, he’d just stumble across the room and collapse.
But when he opened the door to his chamber, all of the candles were already lit, emitting a flickering, warm glow. His first thought was that Bessie had left them burning for him. He’d have to have a talk with her about that. As thoughtful as the gesture was, he had a hard and fast rule about leaving open candles burning unattended.
Leopold closed the door behind him, but then…
“We need to talk.” The voice nearly sent him jumping out of his skin. Before he could attack what he assumed must be one of his enemies, he registered that the voice was a little demanding, but not threatening.
And also… it was feminine.
“Amelia?” What the devil?
“You keep walking out on me.” She rose from the chair she’d been hiding in. “I figured if I came here, we wouldn’t be interrupted.”
WOOSY
Leopold was no prude. He’d had many an overnight tryst along with a couple longer affairs, meeting various women at different inns and brothels, including Malum’s Emporium. This particular scenario should not have been such a shock; in fact, it was quite familiar.
But he’d never invited a woman into his room at Smuggler’s Manor before.
The fact that it was Amelia, radiant as she ever was, with her skin practically glowing in the dim candlelight and her eyes glittering with determination…
She might just as well have hit him on the head a second time.
Despite all his bruises and an almost inhuman level of exhaustion, Leopold felt a stirring of desire. If he wasn’t so aware that he was the worst kind of man for her, he’d have taken a moment to feel proud about that.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” Although that primal want sent a flicker of heat dancing in his blood, Leopold didn’t have the energy to fight with her.
Or do anything else, unfortunately.
She took a step toward him and the rippling shadows on her dress revealed?—
“What are you wearing?”
“A nightrail.” She smoothed her hand down her front and shrugged. “I found it in the wardrobe and then cleaned it up myself.” She met his gaze innocently.
But was she? Gazing at him innocently, that was?
“If you say so…” It wasn’t like any nightrail he’d ever seen. “But why are you wearing it?”In my bedchamber.
“Rule number one.”
Stunned into silence, he blinked.
“You—I—This—” Leopold floundered, shaking his head and trying to remember why taking a tumble with this woman wasn’t a good idea.
She licked her lips, moistening them. The candlelight made them shimmer. Wearing her hair in a single braid draped over her shoulder, the weave revealed strands of copper, bronze, and platinum Leopold had missed before.
Her bravery all but reached out and touched him.
“I was just following your rules,” she said. “Earlier today.”
Earlier today…? His befuddled state prevented him from making any sense of what she was saying. He’d been about to fall unconscious into his bed, alone, but he was more than happy to have some company. And although some buried part of him knew it would be a terrible idea, he couldn’t, for the life of him, recall why.
