Page 89 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
A warm spray of blood covered her face as Reynard fell.
Dear God. I killed him.
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Drake heard an ungodly roar. He lunged for Millie as Reynard fell. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him.
Her face was deathly pale, contrasting against the slash of crimson across her left temple, over her nose, and down her right cheek. It was a gruesome parody of his own scar.
Millie began to shake violently. She looked at Drake, her beautifully dark eyes huge and full of horror, before she doubled over, retching the contents of her stomach all over his shoes.
He rubbed her back, pulled her hair away from her face, and whispered nonsense words to her.
‘I killed him,’ Millie gasped as the sobs took over.
Drake picked her up in his arms, cradling her like a child. ‘Yes, my love. You had no choice.’
‘I need to get out of here. Please. Get me out of here.’ She buried her head into his chest, smearing blood over his white cravat. He didn’t give a damn. She was safe. Alive. In his arms.
Drake carefully carried Millie up the stairs. He took the servants’ corridor to the family wing and strode down the hall, shaking his head at a shocked Killian and Hannah as they emerged from their rooms.
‘Make our excuses. We won’t be attending dinner. And there is a mess in the cellar.’ Drake didn’t wait for Killian to acknowledge his words. He didn’t ask his friend to handle it. Because he knew Killian and Hannah would manage the task. The only thing he cared about was Millie.
He couldn’t wait for a bath to be prepared. Instead, Drake carefully placed Millie in a chair by the fire. He poured water into a bowl on his dresser, soaping a washcloth. When he approached her, Millie’s gaze came into focus. She grabbed the cloth and began scrubbing her face. Jolting to her feet, she staggered over to the bowl. She rinsed the cloth, water sloshing over the rim and onto the table. She scrubbed at her face again, rubbing her skin raw.
Drake walked over to her, resting one hand on her shoulder and the other gently gripping her wrist, pulling the cloth out of her fingers.
‘Let me.’ He rinsed the cloth and gently dabbed her already clean face. As tears rolled down her cheek, he wiped them away.
For a time, they didn’t speak.
‘I killed him,’ she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted.
‘Yes.’
‘It was horrible.’
‘Yes.’
‘Am I a monster?’ Her bottom lip trembled.
Drake leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. ‘No. You stopped a monster. And it’s never easy, Millie.’
Dropping the cloth into the bowl, he took both her hands, walked her back to the chair, sat down, and pulled her into his lap. She curled into him like a small child seeking sanctuary.
He ran his hands down her hair in long, firm strokes, and they said nothing for a while.
‘Beau, will you come to bed with me?’ Her husky voice wrapped him in velvet fingers.
‘Yes.’
Millie clambered off his lap and he helped her undress. Pulling back the covers, she climbed into bed, watching as he removed his jacket, vest, shirt, and trousers. He crawled in next to her, and she burrowed into his arms. Silken, warm, naked, she pressed against him as she wrapped her arms around his ribs and tightened her embrace.
He breathed in her scent as she nuzzled closer. Despite his best intentions to comfort, his cock thickened as her warm breath puffed against his chest.
‘I don’t expect us to… That is, just because I desire you doesn’t mean we need do any more than this.’ He cleared his throat and pressed a kiss against her hair.
Millie loosened her hold around him. Tipping up her chin to face him, she kissed the side of his mouth, then the scar on his cheek, and finally his lips. He let her take her time, exploring his mouth with her tongue, sucking on his bottom lip.
