Page 73 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
A fond smile twisted his lips. “Indeed. Shall we move on from this before I lose all my dignity?”
Kate promptly turned her back to him, presenting him with her buttons. After seeing him with his trousers around his ankles, she was far less concerned by the prospect of being undressed in front of him.
His fingertips trailed down the center of her back as he unfastened her buttons. She toed off her slippers. When her dress fluttered to the ground, she stepped out of it, and he hung it over the back of a chair before helping her out of the petticoat.
He stepped up behind her, and she realized they were angled toward the mirror. From her viewpoint, she could see his reflection, broad-shouldered behind her, the harsh lines of his features softened somewhat as he gazed down at her. Compared to him, she looked small and delicate. The contrast was oddly stirring.
He cupped one of her breasts and ran his thumb gently over her nipple. She thought for a moment that he might suggest more pleasurable activities like the ones that he’d initiated in the drawing room, but instead, he released her.
“Which nightgown would you like?” he asked, striding over to her cabinet.
“Any will do,” she replied, trying not to be too disappointed by his failure to ravish her.
He removed a white nightgown from a drawer and slid it over her head, then he settled on the bed, his long legs stretched out, and motioned for her to join him. Her heart beating a little too fast, she lay down alongside him, keeping a small distance between them.
He was having none of that. He dragged her against his body and slung one of his arms over her waist. Her back pressed to his chest, she was surrounded by warmth, held in strong arms, and she relaxed with a sigh of delight. She hadn’t realized it could feel so lovely to simply lie with her husband.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the faint scent of mint with… was that oil of wintergreen? Whatever it was, she liked it.
A deep sense of contentedness settled over her, making her unusually sleepy considering the time of day, but as she yawned and covered his hand with hers, an awful thought passed through her mind and served as a metaphorical bucket of ice water, jolting her out of her cozy cocoon.
She was falling in love with this man.
And she was reasonably sure that he was still in love with Elizabeth.
Oh no.
CHAPTER 23
Theo sawthe carriage on the horizon. It was being dragged behind a pair of panicked horses, the side crumpled in.
His heart in his throat, he pushed his legs to go faster. He was fortunate the horses were so shaken up that they weren’t moving quickly. As soon as they drew near, he slashed out with a knife that had somehow materialized in his hand and sliced the harnesses, separating the horses from the carriage.
Theo scrambled over to the carriage, desperate to find Elizabeth.
He crawled in through the window. This time, she lay face down, her dark hair matted with blood. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her gently over, the bottom dropping out of his stomach when it wasn’t Elizabeth’s brown eyes staring blankly back at him but instead, Kate’s foggy gray ones.
“No!” he cried, pressing two of his fingers to the pulse point at her neck, desperately probing for a heartbeat.
There was nothing.
He scooped her into his arms and tilted her head toward him. This must be a mistake. Any minute, those glassy eyes would clear, and she’d smile up at him.
But she didn’t.
“No, no, no,” he murmured, fervently trying to get a response from her. “Wake up, Kate. Wake up. Please—”
“Wake up, Theo,” a feminine voice said from just above his face. “It’s only a dream. You’re having a nightmare.”
He blinked blearily, and when the image of Kate’s clear gray eyes, shining with worry, crystallized above him, a sob of relief burst from him.
Oh, thank God. She wasn’t dead. She was still here, alive and well.
“You’re all right,” he whispered, fighting his way out of the blankets to wrap his arms around her waist. He buried his face against her belly and breathed in the scent of woman and whatever it was that made her smell like flowers. Her soap, perhaps.
She tensed momentarily but then relaxed and stroked his hair. “I’m fine. Everything is all right.”
He clutched her tighter, unable to dispel the memory of her glassy eyes and pale skin. Even though she was with him in the present, he could recall the exact sensation of her lifeless body in his embrace.
