“But don’t fall in love with the first one you bed.” His fingers rasped over the beginnings of a beard. Would it be prickly against her cheek? “I don’t allow my cock to rule my head.”
Startled, her wayward thoughts vanished. Aware she gaped at him, she shut her mouth.
“I’m aware of my obligations,” he continued, “particularly since most of my family has been wiped out. The only male left, apart from me, is my English relative who has been caretaker of the estate these past years.”
“Mr. Fennimore is well known hereabouts, my lord. A friend of the colonel of long standing, he often dines at the manor.”
“I have not warmed to him in our correspondence, but the English are known to be reserved.”
This surprised her. She was very fond of her godfather, who was a gregarious soul. “Were your father and Mr. Fennimore close at one time?”
He frowned. “No, but I owe him a great debt of gratitude for his care of the estate in our absence. I am keen to marry and make my home here.”
“I expect you shall seek your bride from the debutante’s during the season, my lord. I’ve heard Almack’s is the perfect marriage mart.”
He smiled. “I might find one prepared to live with my bad habits.”
“You take after your father, my lord?” Was he bragging about his rakish ways? Annoyed, Hetty yearned to put him in his place.
His eyebrows rose at her impudence, but he laughed good-naturedly. “Papa was fond of the ladies, and it got him into trouble when he was young. But when he met my mother, he knew what he wanted.”
“And was he faithful to her?” An even more impertinent question, but she was compelled to ask it.
His gaze roamed over her, and she bent to smooth the blanket. She must hold her tongue and be more careful. Had he become suspicious?
“I saw no reason to doubt it.” His eyes remained on her, and she resisted tugging her hat lower. “But there are many fillies who will wish to snare you, so beware, Simon. A handsomejeune hommelike you…” His voice drifted off, and his dark brows rose.
She held her breath.
He propped his head in his hand. “Do I embarrass you, young Simon? This knock on my head has addled my brains.”
“Not at all, my lord.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, to find herself arranging the blanket like a maid would do. “You must be tired. I shall allow you to sleep.”
He turned on his side and closed his eyes.
With some small measure of relief, she settled ramrod stiff on the cot, determined not to touch any part of him, but it was so narrow it proved impossible. Her feet ended up settled against his back while his stocking-clad feet were somewhere behind her head. He smelled pleasantly of Bergamot soap, overlaid with male, leather, and horse.
He was soon asleep, his breath slow and even.
What would it be like to lie in his arms, safe and comfortable? Well, perhaps not so comfortable. Or so safe? She nestled her feet close to his warm back, she listened to the creak of the roof timbers and the snap of frail branches breaking under their burden of snow. The General shuffled in his makeshift stall. No doubt, the horse was hungry. She was, too, and a little light-headed from the whiskey. She must be gone at first light before the baron saw her in broad daylight. Now that he had recovered his wits, it wouldn’t take him long to realize she was a woman.
Hetty doubted she could sleep in such proximity to a man who made her pulse leap when he smiled. She tucked her cold hands between her legs. Such powerful emotions this man stirred in her. Tomorrow, she would leave. How could she ever view life in the same way again?
Chapter Four
Hetty woke tofind she was spooning the baron’s lower back. She eased herself away and sat up. Gray morning light struggled through the small square of dirty windowpane. The blanket had fallen away. He slept deeply, his lips parted, and his strong chin darkened with a day’s growth. A fringe of thick dark lashes lay on his cheek. Why did men have fuller eyelashes than women? She liked the shape of his nose and the way his nostrils flared above a generous mouth.
His bandage had unraveled during the night to reveal his wound, which had clotted nicely. She studied his big hands and the swell of his muscled arms beneath his shirt. Her gaze ran the length of him, studying his strong thighs and the contour of his trousers. His very maleness tempted her to consider what it would be like to lie on his broad chest and press her body against his… She jerked upright. She had slept overlong and must leave before he woke.
Her hat had fallen off, and her hair had escaped its bonds, spilling over her shoulders. Her chilled fingers tangled in the knots as she attempted to draw it back. She managed to braid it into what she was sure was a bird’s nest at the back of her head then eased her feet to the floor. She located her flattened hat beneath her hip and jammed it on. The blanket stirred, and dust motes rose. She sneezed.
His eyes opened.
“Zut! It is cold.” He sat up and blew on his hands, rubbing them together. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” Annoyed with herself, she bent to pull on her boots. “I hope you did also?”
“Quite soundly. Shared body heat was an excellent idea.”
