Page 16 of Wickedly Yours
Arabella held a glimmer of darkness along with the red chemise which seemed in need of taming. Every curt word or sneer she bestowed upon him did nothing but stir his arousal. He wished to wrap the sable mass of her hair around his wrist as he thrust into her, naked beneath him. Hear her moan his name and rake her nails down his back. If nothing else, the last few hours had made Rowan aware of an inescapable truth.
He wanted Arabella. Every deceitful inch.
* * *
Something heavy fellagainst Arabella’s foot as the coach rocked to one side. Half-asleep, she wondered if it was the hot brick she’d asked for as they left the coaching inn. Except hot bricks didn’t fall against your entire leg.
Arabella’s eyes snapped open.Nota hot brick.
Malden was sleeping, his long legs stretching out in front of him.The coach, while nicely appointed, was not terribly large and his boots, hisvery muddy boots, had fallen against her skirts. With a hiss, she pushed his leg away.
The leg flopped back against her skirts. She tried to push it away again and found the leg, as well as the foot attached to it, wouldn’t move.
A small sound of amusement came from Malden. His lips turned up at the corners though his eyes remained closed.
He was awake and annoying her deliberately.
“Stop this instant.”
A grin moved across his lips. Lashes fluttered against the high cheekbones as his eyes slowly opened. “Stop what? I’ve been asleep. You sound like an enraged fishwife.”
Malden had the loveliest eyes. Light brown shot with green and gold framed by lashes that any woman would envy. The rough shadow of a beard clung to his jaw, the hair a shade or two darker than that on his head. He had tiny creases at the corners of his eyes a sure sign he laughed often, something he was struggling not to do at the moment.
“You snore,” she countered. A fluttering rose up and caressed her breasts as those hazel eyes surveyed her.
“As do you.” He didn’t sound the least put out.
“I absolutely donot.I would never.” She turned to peruse the passing scenery. There wasn’t much to look at. Drizzling rain. Muddy roads.
“You do. Like a bear coming out of hibernation. We should talk about Corbett.”
The quick change in topic sent a dull throb to her stomach. “No. I’ve told you I’m fine. There is nothing to discuss.” How quickly his concern would dissipate should he find out the truth. She didn’t wish to speak of Corbett. Her discomfort was all centered on the guilt of Malden nearly dying because of her and her own stupidity. She gave little thought to Corbett. Which probably made her a monster.
“I’ve no need of your ministrations.” She refused to look at him.
“Ministrations? I can see you are determined to remain stoic and show not a shred of weakness. Most women—"
“I am not,” she choked out, “mostwomen.”
“That is an understatement.” He shot back.
Arabella’s jaw clenched. “I am not like the giggling women who surround you in theton, fainting if they so much as see a spider. I beg you, stop hovering about me like an overzealous nursemaid. I do not seek comfort from you, nor would I wish it if you offered.” Did he hear the lie in her words? She wanted nothing so much as to crawl into Malden’s lap and wedge herself inside his coat. Horse smell or not. The feeling wasmostunwelcome.
“Why? Why not me?” Confusion lit the hazel eyes.
“You know why, Malden.”
“As you wish, Arabella.” He put his hand up to stop her from saying more. “No need to bore me by reciting all the things you dislike about me, my family, my cousin, your family’s honor and whatever additional ills you seek to leave at my door.”
Arabella inhaled sharply. It was time to put their familiarity with each other to an end. Perhaps the distance would staunch the constant fluttering of her chest when she looked at him.
“LadyArabella. I’ve given you no leave to speak to me so informally.”
Malden snorted with laughter. “I think given the fact I rode over nearly half of England for you, I’ve earned the right to call you by your first name.Arabella.”
“How,” she tried to sound imperious, desperate to regain her control, “much longer to London? I am anxious to be out of this coach and—”
“Away from me?” One hand flew up to his heart. “I’m wounded.” He gave a shake of his head and shut his eyes before she could say more.
