Page 36 of A Dream of Redemption
The flat’s entrance was almost an exact copy of Her Grace’s entrance foyer. It had a coat stand that took coats and umbrellas, and sideboard for hats and gloves. She moved forward through big double doors into a large reception room flooded with light from two doors leading out into the small walled garden. There was a door on her immediate right, which she supposed led to a kitchenette, and then she could see two doors on the right at the far end of the room. Bedrooms perhaps.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine. I bought the one hundred and twenty year lease to this flat last year off Her Grace.”
She moved farther into the room. The furniture looked expensive, plenty of Chippendale pieces and the luxurious Persian rug near the fire set off the pale gold stripes in the wallpaper.
“It’s beautifully decorated,” she stated.
“A man in my past made sure I knew everything about luxury and refinement.”
“Your past sounds intriguing,” but she did not press him and he said no more. “Let’s see to that wound. If you show me your kitchen, I’ll heat some hot water. Do you have more linen for bandages?”
“Yes. Mrs. Thorn gave me a huge pile of clean cloths. The kitchen is this way, the range should be lit as Mrs. Corby comes twice a day to clean and see to the fires.”
The tiny kitchen could barely fit them both but it had a small stove for heating and cooking. There was also a kettle and larder. “I’ll leave you to boil the kettle while I go and change.”
Helen promptly filled the kettle from the jug of water Mrs. Corby had left covered on the bench and placed it on the stove. She looked around for a large bowl to fill once the water boiled. She also grabbed a bottle of brandy sitting on the shelf.
The water would take a while to boil so she went in search of Clary to help him remove the bandages. She found him in the bedchamber at the far end. It too looked out over the private garden, and she loved how the sun streamed in. She stood in the bedchamber doorway for a moment and drunk in the warmth in the room. For a man who was very contained and austere this room sang with color, luxury, and—personality.
He’d hung large landscape paintings of rolling meadows and serene lakes on two of his bedchamber walls. The wallpaper was rich deep burgundy velvet. His bed was a huge four-poster with silken drapes on two sides. The end was open so he could see the view of the garden.
He had a deep mahogany chest of drawers with two beautiful vases full of flowers, and she spied the door to a closet/commode along the side of the room.
He was watching her as she moved around his room touching every surface.
“You have a beautiful room,” she whispered. “Not at all what I expected.”
He frowned. “How so?”
She bit her lip and thought about how to answer that. “It’s alive—alive with color, texture, vibrancy, and warmth. It’s full of emotion.” As his lips began to firm she added, “You must admit you’re the least likely person to display any emotion, yet this room—it screams…passion.”
She watched him swallow at her assessment. Once again he kept his emotions in check, refusing to comment on her observation. He merely said, “I suspect the water may have boiled by now.”
She sighed and left the room to fetch the water and a cloth to clean the wound. As she reentered his bedchamber she almost dropped the bowl filled with very hot water. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his shirt off, trying to unwind the bandages. Muscles rippled as he reached round his torso and in brilliant sunlight he looked bigger, more masculine, and devastatingly tempting.
She crossed and placed the bowl on the bedside dresser and moved to help him. He sat perfectly still as she leaned over him and slowly peeled the last of the bloodied linen from his stitches. “You have to loosen your breeches, the linen goes down to your left hip. I think that is where the damage is from your fall.”
She held his gaze as if it was a challenge. She was not going to look away. She almost held her breath as he undid the placket of his trousers and pushed his breeches and falls down so she could finish. He modestly kept a piece of the sheet over himself. She had to reach right around him, and she felt him stiffen at her touch.
At last she could see the damage he’d done in the fall. It had torn the very bottom two stitches, the ones in the thin skin on his hip, not completely out though. “There seems to be more blood than damage. I don’t think we need to send for Blake.” She waved the brandy bottle. “Would you like some before I start cleaning the wound with it?” She pressed hard against the broken skin and soon the bleeding stopped. It just needed a tight bandage round it.
“No brandy. I need to keep a clear head. I must get back to my work and I have a meeting with Richard too.”
“About Glover?”
“Yes. And no, you cannot come.”
She didn’t respond, the contours of the muscles near his hip and the teasing of crisp black hair consumed her as she slowly bandaged his side. She loved how his stomach clenched each time her fingers met his skin. As the cloth rolled lower he let out a hiss. She stopped and looked into his eyes.
Time stood still. All she could hear were both of them breathing in uneven breaths. She finished tightening the dressings near where his stitches had come loose and yet her fingers stayed on his skin.
Without thinking she bent and placed a kiss on his bare shoulder and ran her hands through his hair. When he did not stop her, she ran her tongue along his collarbone before looking into his face. This time his eyes could not hide his emotions. For once he did not seem to be hiding behind his cold austere exterior. She sunk onto the bed beside him and his hand sought hers. He linked their fingers and brought her hand to his lips. He pressed an ardent kiss to her palm and her body shivered.
She understood the mix of fear and heat in his eyes as they sat on his bed, hands linked together. If they gave in to the passion pulsating around them nothing would ever be the same again. They both risked everything.
Their hearts, their reputations, his employ, her social standing—but desire overruled all. They both bent their heads at the same time.
Their lips touched and they were lost. It was if he wanted to consume her.
