He took her hand and led her from the room, led her up the long staircase and down a hallway. A door there had been left open and he drew her through. She looked around.
It was a guest chamber, plain but serviceable. It was still cool in the room, which was to be expected considering she had just arrived and the servants who had been awakened to deal with her being there had only a few moments to ready it. Her valise rested on a table by the window and the covers had been drawn down on the bed.
It wasn’t Lucien’s room, of course. She had never seen Lucien’s room. The night they stole—made love, before their engagement was destroyed—was in her old room in the home of her late parents. He’d snuck through her window.
She shook the memories away and looked at him. He was just…watching her, and had made no move to come farther into the room, nor to leave her.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “It’s safe for tonight. Safe until we can work this out.”
She moved toward him a step, unable to stop herself. Unable to keep from lifting a hand to caress his cheek with her palm. He shut his eyes with a long exhalation and leaned into her touch.
“Will you stay?” she asked softly.
His eyes came open, dark and hooded as he stared down at her. But also resistant. And she knew why. They had stated this affair was at an end, if he took her one more time it muddled everything.
Tonight, though, taking wasn’t the first thing on her mind. It wasn’t the last, either, but it wasn’t why she asked him to stay.
“I keep picturing him coming across the room at me,” she admitted with a catch to her breath. “So I ask you not so you’ll make love to me, but just so you’ll…stay.”
He held her gaze for a long moment and she could tell he was analyzing her words for their veracity. Even in this, he didn’t believe her. But why would he? She had earned no less.
He said nothing as he took her hand again and moved her toward the bed. He turned her and began unbuttoning the gown Ruth had hastily helped her into over her night rail. She held her breath as his big hands brushed gently over her skin, warming her, soothing her.
He pushed the dress away and looked at her. “You really did have to run, didn’t you?” he murmured, staring at the thin night rail with its stitched straps.
She dipped her chin. “You think I punched myself in the eye just to manipulate you into saving me?”
He considered that a moment. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry if I sounded like I doubted you. I don’t. Now, come.”
He motioned the bed and she got under the covers and slid over, leaving him a space. He shut his eyes, took a long breath, and when he opened them he started to get in beside her, his dressing gown still tied around his waist.
“You sleep in your robe?” she asked.
His gaze snagged hers. “I sleep in nothing. I didn’t think that would be a particularly good idea, considering.”
She licked her lips and his eyes went wide, but he got into the bed regardless and snuffed the candle on the side table.
“Roll over,” he whispered in the dark. “Face the window.”
She did, putting her back to him, and he tucked himself around her from behind, drawing her back against his warm chest. One hand rested on her stomach, the other supporting her neck beneath the pillow.
She settled back against him, burrowing into his embrace. Oh yes, she could feel the stiffness of his cock against her backside. He wanted her. She wanted him. But for now, that wasn’t the reason he was here.
He was here to protect her, to comfort her, and that meant more than any passion they might share. For the first time in years, her body relaxed, welcoming sleep rather than fearing it. And she drifted off with Lucien’s breath warm on her neck and his body cradling hers.
Lucien opened one eye slowly. He hadn’t shut the inside curtains last night, so it was only the flimsy ones meant for privacy that covered the window. Morning sunshine flowed into the room, cascading over the bed and the woman beside him.
At some point she had rolled onto her back, and so he had the perfect view of her relaxed face, her full lips and the nasty black eye that even the ice hadn’t kept from swelling and darkening.
His stomach clenched at the sight of her damaged. He would kill that son of a bitch for touching her. For trying to do worse than just blacken her eye.
Her gaze fluttered open, her gaze bleary with sleep, and she whispered, “This is always my favorite dream.”
She lifted a hand to cup the back of his head and drew him down, lifting her lips to his. He should have pulled back, resisted, but he couldn’t. He kissed her back, gently, but gentle didn’t matter. His body was already hard and touching her made it worse, not better.
She moved against him with a sleepy murmur, and then she pulled back suddenly and stared up at him. He could see her realizing that this wasn’t whatever dream she referenced. He was really there. She was really there. That was really his cock pushing into her stomach.
