“Perhaps,” Irene said on a soft sigh. “But I shall endeavor to stay in my own bed in the event Celia should need me.”
Ginny leaned over and kissed her soft cheek. “You do that. But if she wakes and you wish to come to my chamber, my door will remain unlocked. You might consider leaving Miss Lambert a note.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Laughing, Ginny tweaked her nose. “I’m teasing, my darling. I think Miss Lambert will have an idea where to find you should she wake and find you and Celia missing.”
“Oh. Yes, I see what you mean.”
Swallowing a sigh, Ginny hugged her and stole quietly from the chamber to check on her younger daughter. Celia was sleeping just as soundly as she had in Brock’s arms, her thumb slack in her mouth. Ginny pulled her tiny hand away and tucked it beneath the covers. She dropped a kiss on her temple, breathing in her innocence. Then she sent up a prayer for these two beautiful souls God had so generously gifted her.
Miss Lambert’s head peered in. “Lady Maudsley?”
“Everything is all right, Miss Lambert. But if you should find the girls missing in the morning, I suspect they’ll be snuggled in with me. Oh, and don’t be surprised to find a note from Irene stating such,” she added.
She smiled. “Of course, my lady. Good night.”
Ginny tripped down the stairs, pausing as she reached her own level and stopping. All was quiet. The thick rugs beneath her feet allowed her to sneak into her chamber unaccosted. Nancy met her at the door.
“There you are, milady. I’ve had a warm water sent up for you. In the dressing room.”
“Heaven. Thank you. Just help me out of this atrocity of a dress and you can retire.”
Minutes later, Ginny was sponging her face and neck from a bowl of rose scented water, deep in thought. Brock was worming his way straight in her ice-encrusted heart with the force of a flaming arrow. How was she supposed to keep herself safeguarded? Their future was an ill-fated one, and she could see no way to protect herself from the oncoming disaster. Not if he refused to observe the boundaries she continually tried to set. He obliterated every obstacle she set forth.
A knock pounded on the door.
Ginny frowned. “I’m fine, Nancy—”
“I’m not Nancy.” Brock stood in the vaulted arch with his arms folded over his chest.
In her haste to grab for a towel, Ginny hit the bowl and sent it toppling to the floor. She snatched the scrap of linen dangling before her and dried her face. She threw it at him, which he caught with a deft hand. “What are you doing here?”
He flicked a thumb in the direction of the door, ignoring her question. “They’re still here.”
She clutched the neck of her modest night rail. “And in what capacity is that your concern?” Her only satisfaction was a tightening of his jaw. She brushed past him into the bedchamber. Not her smartest move perhaps. Especially since she’d failed to hold her breath and was inundated with a faint trace of bay and hit with a full force of all male. All Brock.
Swallowing a groan, she stalked to the door and twisted the lock. “How did you get in here?”
“I climbed up the trellis.” He followed her in but dropped into a chair before the blazing fire in the hearth.
“Quite an accomplishment, since there’s not a single trellis on this property.”
He shot her an unrepentant grin that shifted into a stern grimace. “I walked in through the front door with no one the wiser. Unequivocally irresponsible. I think you need a more competent butler. Entire staff, for that matter.”
Outrage surged up from her toes through her abdomen to her pounding head with each step she took until she reached him, nose to nose, her finger poking his chest, punctuating each word. “How. Dare. You.”
Brock wrapped the whole of her hand in his and tugged. She fell right into his lap. Right where she belonged. He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, breathing in her rose-scented skin from her wash. “As long as thosepeopleare in this house, you can be sure I’ll be staying.”
She opened her mouth to… blast him, no doubt, but he stayed that by sealing his mouth over hers, drinking in the fire that was all her. Stoking that all-consuming inferno with each lash of his tongue. Varying the pressure until she melted into him and he couldn’t say where he ended and she began. She arched into him, and he molded one hand around the graceful column of her neck, his fingertips exploring the satiny contours of her skin. Her trembling limbs clung to him, leaving the cotton concoction she wore open and his for the taking. He slid his hand in the parted neck and cupped her breast, her nipple beading into a hard nub against his palm. The most erotic sensation sent the blood rushing from his thumping heart straight south to an already engorged portion of his anatomy.
Possession, heady and violent, ballooned. He needed more. A gentle attempt to move his hand failed abominably. Instead, he gripped the opening of her gown and yanked. Ripped the soft fabric open at the center seam and covered her breast with his mouth.
His heart bashed against his ribs so soundly it was a wonder the whole household did not storm the chamber.
Ginny struggled against him. “Let me up,” she whispered harshly. “Someone’s at the door. Up, you big clod.”
The door?Someone was knocking at the door. Brock stumbled to his feet, steadying Ginny before she toppled to the floor, pushing her behind him. “Hide. In the dressing—”
