Slowly, trying not to wake her, Nico slid out from underneath Jane’s arm and leg. She rustled in the sheets but did not wake. A damned heavy sleeper. He chuckled and peeked out the window. He’d considered the window from the other side before. First floor. A thick wall of ivy climbing nearby. Not a glamour, either. He’d tugged on it once. Seemed strong enough. To hold his weight, though? He should just go out the door, especially since a coach was approaching. It trundled nearer slowly, a big black thing pulled by four black horses.
“Ominous,” he mumbled.
“What is ominous?” Jane yawned and lifted her head. She blinked at him from beneath a wild halo of honey hair. God, she was delectable.
“There’s a coach coming down the drive. All black.”
She stopped blinking and moved like lightning, gathering the sheet, wrapping it around her body, and jumping out of the bed to join him at the window. “Bloody hell.”
“What is it?” He tried not to be aroused by the curse word that had slipped so easily from her lips. Clearly, this was not the time.
“That is my brother’s coach.”
“Fuck.”
She pushed him toward the door. “Get out. Now.”
8
BROTHERS ARE THE WORST
Jane had never once been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Because she’d never once done something she shouldn’t. Not until circumstances had forced her to. Not until Nico.
“You’re a horrible influence on me,” she said, lacing her corset over her shift.
He was jumping up and down on one foot as he tried to pull on a leg of his trousers that was twisted in on itself. “Not now, Jane. Blame me all you want later. I’ll let you punish me how you see fit. But for now”—he finally shoved his leg through, and his fingers flew to his fall, fastening it quickly—“get dressed.”
No use arguing that. The coach had stopped in the circle drive just before the stables to the side of the hospital.
She pulled on her skirts from yesterday. No time for petticoats. Then she shoved her arms through her bodice, watching her brother step out of the coach like a big grumbling bear from a cave after a winter hibernation.
“Hell. Hell, hell, hell.” She shook the impossible tiny hooks at her bodice with each word. They wouldn’t catch. They simply wouldnotcatch!
“Shh.” Nico’s hands swatted hers away. “Let me.” He fastened her bodice swiftly, then kissed her cheek. He looked a rogue with his loose shirt and waistcoat tossed on, his hair a mattress-muddled mess. He looked dear and virile and handsome, and—the ring on her finger glowed, warmed—hers. He was hers.
If they could survive her brother.
Her bodice fastened, he leaned down for a kiss, but before he reached her lips, she spun him around, shoved him toward the door. “Oh, do go.”
Thankfully, he opened the door and slid through a slim crack into the hallway, grinning ear to ear as he looked at her over his shoulder. Oh, that wicked man. He was enjoying this. Before she could slam the door closed, he whipped back around and kicked the door open, braced his hands on either side of the frame and leaned into the empty space.
“A kiss goodbye?”
Of course not. They had so little time to begin with. And wasn’t he just irresponsible with those precious minutes. She settled her hands at her hips. “Absolutely…” But surely one wouldn’t hurt. She shook her head. Of course it would hurt. “Not.” His lips were lovely. Soft and warm, firm and wide, and…
His grin widened.
“Oh, why not.” She sighed and melted into his arms.
The kiss was much too short. It was all tongue and teeth but martially executed. A planned plunder that left her knees soft as pudding as she clung to his shirt.
“What the hell is going on?”
Nico froze, his muscles hardening from lazy satiation to fight ready in a half second. He turned around, hiding Jane behind his back, hiding as well, whatever was happening in the hallway. He didn’t have to hide who was there. She knew that voice.
Her brother.
“That is what I’d like to know,” Nico said. “Who are you?” As if he didn’t bloody well know.
