“With her trunk, I think.”
Christian sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “She’s a damned stubborn wench.”
“Aye and ’tis rainin’,” Quincy added.
Christian grunted in answer, irritated beyond measure.
“She’ll catch the devil of a chill,” Quincy added plaintively. “Thought I’d climb to the rooftop meself and fix it where she wouldn’t catch the rain, but these rickety old bones wouldn’t allow it, m’lord.”
“I understand, Quince. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine once I get her out of that blasted wing. Now, get yourself back to bed afore you catch the ague yourself.”
Stiffly Quincy rose from the floor, groaning his discomfort.
“Oh... and Quince,” Christian called out, “my thanks to you for watching over her.”
“It was nothin’, m’lord. Slept better out here on the bare floor than I would’ve up there with those two bickering auld fools.”
Christian chuckled. “That bad, eh?”
Quincy’s voice now sounded from the stairway, his tone forlorn. “Aye, m’lord, that bad, it is.” His footsteps stopped abruptly. “Are ye certain ye won’t be needin’ me help, m’lord? I did tell ye the door was barred?”
“You did,” Christian assured him. “G’night, Quince.”
“Night, m’lord.”
Jessie’s shoulders trembled from the cold as the rain drummed its icy fingers upon the back of her head and body. Straining, she listened to the faint mumbling beyond the doorand felt only a strange sense of relief at hearing Christian’s voice there.
When the doorknob had jiggled softly only moments before, she’d been wholly terrified. Assuming it was Christian, she’d called out his name, but when he’d not replied, she’d become alarmed. Hearing his voice now, she decided he was not only a knave but he was rude as well!
The voices finally quieted and he again jiggled the knob. She didn’t bother to rise as the door burst open and her trunk went skidding across the floor. Protecting her face from the rain, she huddled into a protective ball, turning away from the door. His footsteps thundered across the wet wood and halted beside her.
Towering over her, Christian told her, his words slightly slurred, “You’re quite resourceful, my love, but ‘tis asinine to make yourself ill merely to spite me.”
Jessie remained silent, but the simple truth made her eyes sting. He knelt beside her, turning her gently toward him, and she closed her eyes. Against her will, tears spilled shamelessly onto her cold cheeks, scalding hot in comparison to the frigid rain that was now striking her full in the face.
Closing his eyes only for the briefest moment, Christian ignored the stirring of his heart. She seemed so very fragile lying there before him, her pale green eyes now open and bright with her tears. Moonlight spilled through the rafters, illuminating the sopping midnight strands of her hair. Damn, but she was soaked to the bone.
He felt entrapped by her gaze, unable to look away. Nor could he find his voice to speak just then. It was her eyes, he acknowledged. They seemed a beacon in the dim light of the room, drawing his gaze even as a moth was lured to the flame. The light of it was irresistible, and he felt suspiciously ablaze this moment. It was not at all an unpleasant sensation, nor was it unfamiliar to him, and he determined that this night might notend so unpleasantly, after all. Droplets of rain glistened upon her flesh, and he had the sudden urge to kiss every last one of them away. He was not about to argue with her, nor would he remain here and make himself ill simply because she lacked the bloody sense to come out of the rain.
Without a word, he swept his hands down to lift her into his arms. She didn’t protest, nor did he bother to explain his intentions. He carried her silently from the room, somehow managing to draw the door closed behind them before sliding the bolt loudly into place.
Cradling her chilled body close to his thundering heart, he bore her through the entrance hall, his breathing labored as he swept her up the stairs to his chamber—though not from the burden of her weight, for she was light as the breath of spring... and her scent more intoxicating than any liquor.
He set her upon her feet on the floor before his bed, uncertain whether to stay or go. Curse her, for even now, after all that had transpired between them, he found himself wanting to play the noble for her.
However... he was anything but an honorable soul, and they both knew that fact well enough, so there was no reason for him to pretend any longer. He was what he was... and she was no longer a virgin besides.
The damage was done.
Lighting a candle to better see her, he placed it upon the nightstand. She was shivering. The pristine white gown she wore dripped with rain, bonded with her flesh, revealing dark nipples to his greedy eyes. “You’re sopping wet,” he whispered.
Jessie nodded, and her tears began anew.
Christian moved a finger to sweep her tears gently away, and Jessie couldn’t find the words to protest as his hand reached for the tiny bow at her throat, then slipped down to the nextone, and the next. She felt suffocated by uncertainty. She didn’t loathe him, but how to keep herself from loving him?
Or was it far, far too late for that?
Boldly he slipped her gown from her shoulder, and all she could do was gape at him stupidly, her heart pounding madly. Christian wore no shirt at all, and the light curling hair upon his chest streaked lightly downward to vanish within his breeches. Her gaze slid up to meet his penetrating blue eyes once more. And neither of them moved.
