Page 13 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
He frowned. “I don’t have my coat or I’d offer it to you.”
She gave a strained smile. “That’s quite all right.” Her voice trembled even more now. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m suddenly freezing.”
“Let me close the window,” he said again.
“No.” The word was sharp. “I need the fresh air. I think—” She paused and glanced down at her chest, and he watched as she tried to tug the gaping material of her gown together. “I think it’s my gown being torn.” Her voice was low and sounded—Ah God, it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
In one fluid movement, he shifted from his seat into the one she occupied.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes widened as he slipped his arm over her shoulder to draw her to his side and to his heat.
Excellent question. Why the hell had he moved over here? Honor. Honor and possibly a bit of that desire he needed to kill for her. “Warming you.” He clutched her close so that the top of her silky head came just under his chin.
Good God, but her hair smelled better than hair had the right to smell. Like sunshine and grass. Fresh. Pure.
“This is really quite improper,” she said, but she didn’t make a move to extract herself from his embrace, and she was still trembling.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, striving for lightness, but inside him, the rage at Marco had awoken once more. He’d let the man go far too easily.
She shivered even harder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Of course, she didn’t. She came from a protected existence and had danced in light of danger. “You’ve had a shock, and your body is trying to adjust.”
She nodded. “I felt fine before. It’s just when we got in the carriage, and it was quiet for a moment, images started coming to me of…of…him.”
Her body tensed under his arm, and his anger roiled through him like a flame.
“I never imagined,” she said, her voice near a whisper, “my first kiss would be like that.”
“Did you imagine your first kiss a great deal?”
Why the devil had he asked that?
She tilted her head up and to the left, her long, dark lashes fanning her cheeks. A dimple showed with her half-embarrassed smile. “Perhaps once or twice. My friend Lilias, the Duchess of Greybourne—”
“I know Greybourne and his duchess,” he interrupted, disliking how much he liked her voice. It flowed like honey, sweet and warm, and it made his mouth water just listening to her speak.
“Yes, of course.” She gave a throaty chuckle, nothing like the titters of most women of theton. He liked it. He liked it too damned much. “She had a penchant for Gothic romances,” Lady Frederica continued, “and she gave them to me when she was finished with them. And well, you see… I—That is, what I’m trying to say is—”
“The romances made you dream of kissing,” he supplied, wanting to end her obvious embarrassment.
“Yes,” she said, and then, “I cannot believe I told you that.”
He couldn’t, either, and now he had a vision of kissing that small expanse of enticing flesh that had been revealed by her torn gown. It was reprehensible, given what she’d been through, and yet, it was there because she was so damned appealing and honest. “Sometimes it’s easier to tell a stranger a secret.”
“Have you found that personally?” she asked.
“Me? No. I tell no one my secrets. But people often seem to tell me theirs.”
“Oh.” Her brow dipped in disappointment. “So, mine is one of many secrets you’ve heard.”
“One of many, but one I’ll likely not forget.”
“I’m glad my secret’s so memorable,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
If she only knew how memorable he found her, she’d be shocked. Even now, his desire was presenting a problem. In fact, the sooner he moved out of her proximity, the better. “Are you warmer now?” he asked.
“Oh yes, thank you. Oddly, the only thing still cold is my mouth.” A bemused expression came to her face as she tentatively licked her plump lips.
