When he stood to loosen his trousers, she spun around and fussed over the arrangement of the horse blankets on the bed. She turned back as if compelled to watch him as he ran a hand over his chest beneath his shirt.
He winced in pain. “I might have bruised a rib. Have a look, will you?”
“I doubt I can be of much help, my lord,” she said. “I doubt there’s a bone broken. The pain would be more intense.”
He unbuttoned his waistcoat and lifted his shirt. “I doubt that, too, but just look, will you?”
She had never seen a grown man’s naked chest before. Sucking in a breath, she bent to examine him. Small brown nipples jutted from his sculpted chest, and his stomach was ridged with muscle. A soft mat of dark hair disappeared into his breeches. Her stomach clenched as his manly smell teased at her and her fingers curled into her palms with the need to touch him. What would happen if she did? Her tentative finger traced a rib. She’d never expected a man’s skin to be so smooth. The desire to sweep it over the planes of his chest caused her to pull away. “You’re right. There is a bruise here.”
“Thought as much.” He yawned then yelped, cradling his forehead. “Devil plague it!” He patted the cot. “We can throw those blankets over us and sleep top to tail. Not ideal, but ’twill do, will it not?”
He looked so trusting he made her ashamed of her dishonesty. “I can sleep anywhere. Curled up on the mat by the fire will do, ’tis all the same to me,” she said in a tight voice. That she found him so attractive surprised her when she wasn’t sure she approved of him. But then, Byron’s transgressions only served to make him more charismatic.
He patted the cot. “I won’t hear of it. There’s plenty of room here.”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“You’re a gentlemanly fellow for a groom, Simon,” he said. “I haven’t got you into trouble, have I? No doubt your colonel will think you’ve absconded with that horse.”
Hetty knelt at the foot of the cot. “I’ll set that to rights in the morning.” She suffered a pang of guilt. Simon would be worried. But he would have to wait for the storm to pass before he could search for her.
She’d ride to Rosecroft Hall for help at daylight, even though it would risk revealing her identity to Williams, the head groom. Williams seemed a decent sort of fellow. If she pleaded for his silence and made a quick getaway before her godfather, Eustace, saw her. Her disguise wouldn’t fool him for a minute. She must arrive home before her father came back from London. Heaven knew what the servants would tell Papa if he arrived before her. Simon would be forced to take the servants into his confidence. Some knew she rode The General, and would rally to protect her, but she hated to make them witnesses to her deceitful behavior.
“You look most uncomfortable.” He spread his greatcoat over them, then lay down with his hands clasped behind his head. “Aren’t you going to take off your hat?”
“Keeps my ears warm,” she mumbled.
“No man wears a queue these days. You should get your hair cut short like mine. Short hair isde rigueur.” He ran his hands through his hair, careful not to disturb the makeshift bandage.
Frenchmen were far too concerned with their appearance. Fops, many of them, she decided, warming to the idea. It was uncharitable of her and possibly unfair, but it helped her keep her distance.
“I haven’t been accused of snoring. Do you?”
“I don’t believe so.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so strained. The gruff voice made her throat hurt.
He raised his head to gaze at her with those blue eyes, his well-defined lips stretched into a grin. “You do not know?”
She shook her head.
“Even in this poor light I can see your cheeks are smooth as ajuene fille. I take it you are not old enough to have enjoyed feminine company?”
Hetty shifted her gaze to the cobwebs on the ceiling as she tried to work out a way to extricate herself from this mess of her own making. “Old enough yes… but no.”
His deep laugh made her catch her breath. “We men are always old enough, are we not? You have much to enjoy when you do throw a leg over. Ah, mademoiselles.” He gave an appreciative sigh. “What would we men do without them? I’ve known some great beauties in my time.”
How boastful! She wished she wasn’t so intrigued.
“You must become a good lover, my friend. It is a skill that requires much study to perfect.”
“In what way?” Oh, why had she asked that? She’d just invited him to tell her. She bit her lip, half wanting to hear it and half fearful of what he would say.
“By listening,” he said, surprising her. “What lies beneath her words can give you clues.”
“And if you learn nothing?”
“You ensure the woman has her pleasure before you take yours, using all of your body, your hands, your tongue, and lips, as well as your cock. When she comes, you will hear it, see it, feel it, and delight in it.”
Hetty dipped her head to hide her hot cheeks as he elaborated on what he liked a woman to do to him. He must notice her rapid breath. Women would need little encouragement she was sure. She slanted a glance at him under her lashes as he ran a careless hand across his broad chest. A desire to move closer, took her by surprise. Such an arbitrary thought horrified her. There was far more at risk here than her reputation.
