Page 7 of A Gentleman's Kiss
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Lillian peeked through one eye at the sun streaming through her windows. Her mind protested against the intrusion. Who opened her curtains? Mrs. Rowe no doubt…the woman was out to make her miserable.
Wishing dearly to fall back asleep, she threw the covers over her head and snuggled deeper into her bed. But the air beneath the coverlet was stuffy, and she drew them off her face, only to be assaulted once more by bright light. The sun won out, and she opened her eyes all the way, shoving the covers down to her waist.
She reached her arms up over her head and stretched, surprised at how her body did not ache. Even more surprising was how well she slept. She wiggled her toes, and—
Something caught the corner of her eye.
A loud gasp escaped her lips as her gaze lazily registered the sight. Bolting upright in bed, she clutched the sheet closer.
“My lord!” she gasped again, glancing wildly around her room. “What are you doing in my bed chamber?”
Lord Wessex sat nonchalantly, in the chair beside her dressing table, one knee resting casually over the other, his fingers steepled as he studied her. He looked as though he belonged here in her bed chamber, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Oh, Dear Lord! Do not let Mrs. Rowe come in right now!
He stood up and walked toward her. She clutched the sheet tighter and gulped. Those warm sensations were filling her belly again and she wanted to kick something for it!
To her horror, embarrassment—and delight—he sat down on the bed, folding his hands in his lap. His thigh pressing against her hip sent a thrill of wicked excitement racing through her blood. She frowned all the more, disgusted with her base attitude.Wanton!
“My lord! You cannot sit there! Please, go away!” She shooed him with her hand, until she realized she’d let go of the sheet, which she immediately re-gripped and placed on her chest like a shield to cover her taut nipples jutting through her thin nightrail.
“A thousand apologies, Miss Whitmore, but I felt it was the only way I could speak to you without interruption,” he explained. “Last evening I tried to talk—“
She shook her head, still not comprehending how he came to be in here. “In my bed chamber? Without a chaperone? With me in my nightgown, covered by this sheet?” Lillian asked, incredulous at his arrogance. She soon realized her error in describing their situation as his gaze roved over the sheet she clutched to her body. She pulled it tighter. Her arms pressed against her breasts and elbows jutting out, as if she’d fend him off with their points.
“Yes, I realize this may seem odd, and indecent,” he added with a raised eyebrow, “but I needed to apologize to you.”
“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.
What could be so important he would jeopardize her reputation like this?
Lord Wessex stood, crossing his hands behind his back and started pacing. Lillian took a moment to appreciate the sight of his well built behind, his broad back, long muscular legs and then cast her gaze down at her lap. Her cheeks flared with heat.
“I felt a connection with you last night, seeing as how I love America, and you are from there,” he began, turning toward her.
He stopped pacing, coming closer, but then stopping a few feet from the bed. A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded her that he did not sit next to her again. His gaze locked on hers and something stirred in their depths—desire?
“I tried last night to speak with you, but there were many interruptions. I wanted to take you for a walk in the gardens last night but was unable to, again due to interruption.”
Lillian shook her head. “My lord, please do not think I did not understand the circumstances for which you went with my dear cousin. I am certainly not one to get in the way or step on toes. She obviously wanted to get some fresh air far more than I did. Now if you please, I would like some privacy?”
Lord Wessex, either with great insolence or stupidity, simply turned his back. Was he serious? He would stand there with his back to her and call that privacy?
“My lord?” Lillian prompted, hoping to prod him to continue out the door.
“Yes?” His head turned a little over his shoulder.
“I have requested privacy,” Lillian said, hoping to keep calm at the impossible man’s actions. Did she have to spell it out to him?
“Yes, of course,” he said, flustered. He raked his hands through his hair. “We shall continue our conversation later.”
“Later,” she replied.
Finally he walked out of the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Lillian groaned inwardly, rolled her eyes, and collapsed onto the bed. She looked up at the white canopy above her head, decorated with embroidered flowers and French lace. What was his intrusion all about? Why did this man, a perfect stranger, feel the need to explain his actions? And why in the world did he enter her chamber while she slept? Of all the indecency! She was lucky no one saw him, or else she would be a ruined woman. She would be forced to marry him for sure, and her family would see her removed immediately from the house.
