Page 89 of Crash Landing
He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Ever your servant.” Then he dropped several coins in the innkeeper’s palm for good measure.
“This is cozy,” Florence said, letting out a breath once Doncasterhad shut the door behind him. “You might have warned me about the sleeping arrangements. Not to mention the marital declaration.”
“I should have,” he admitted, “but we were riding hard and did not have time for a conversation about this. I intend to sleep on the floor, so you needn’t worry.”
She laughed lightly. “You will not. I’ll take the floor, or we could share that ample bed. Sharing is the most sensible solution, don’t you think? I long to fall asleep in your arms, Trajan. Is it wicked of me?”
“Not at all. We are as good as husband and wife.”
“But not married yet.” She shook her head. “We needn’t discuss it. I am with you on this, since I am safest keeping close to you. I’ll need to wash the dust off my hands and face, and change into my nightclothes.”
He cast her a tender smile. “I can head downstairs for twenty minutes and have a drink while—”
“It isn’t necessary. You can turn away or simply close your eyes whenever I need my privacy.” She studied him a moment longer, noting the weariness in his eyes and wondering whether he still had a touch of fever. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the bed? You must be exhausted, although you are stubbornly trying to hide this from me. Will you let me take care of you?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t I the one who ought to be taking care of you?”
“I’ve spent a lifetime doing things for myself.” She nudged him onto the bed, and he offered little resistance. “Shall I help you take off your boots? You mustn’t do it yourself or you’ll strain the stitches. I can help you off with your clothes, too.”
“Florence, are you seducing me?” he teased. “What’s a shy fellow to think? Removing my clothes. Tossing me onto the bed.”
She grinned. “You have found me out. I long to get at your body.”
“And I ache to get at yours. Do you mind? But you have only to say the word and I will keep hands off you until we are married.”
“Don’t you dare. Is it not odd that I feel so comfortable around you? I am such a private person, and yet I am not shy about sharing everything with you.”
“Because you trust me.”
“I do,” she said, studying his face. “I trust you and adore you.”
He stretched out on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. “I like where this is going.”
“I thought you might. Trajan, you are very much in my heart.”
“Mutual, Florence. It feels nice, doesn’t it?” She saw the heat in his eyes and the tenderness in his smile as he watched her.
“Yes, I never thought such happiness was possible for me.”
“Nor did I for myself.”
She placed a hand to his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief when it felt cool to the touch. Nevertheless, she rose from his side for a moment to dampen one of her handkerchiefs in the ewer perched on a night table. After wringing it out, she returned to his side. “Keep this on your forehead for a little while.”
He did not protest, so she suspected he might have had a headache even if there was no accompanying fever.
She stayed by his side and removed her boots, then did the same with his. “Do not help me,” she insisted. “Your stitches, remember? I can manage this for you.”
However, she did ask for his help in unlacing her gown. In truth, it was something she could have managed herself. But he appeared to be growing restless, not liking that she was taking on all the chores while he lay abed.
There was hardly anything to do. How was any of this onerous in the least?
But she liked the idea of having him assist her in removing her gown. Not only was it helpful, it was intimate as well.
He took his time with each lacing, and his touch felt wonderful. She tingled everywhere he touched her. She burned wherever hecaressed her.
This man knew how to melt a lady.
She forced herself to tear away from his side in order to remove the packet of letters hidden in the secret pocket of her gown.
