Page 18 of The Devil Baron

He loosened the laces quickly, dragging off one boot, then the other.

After he set them down on the floor, his gaze went back to her face, then drifted down her body as he stood straight.

It seemed like there should be something else.

A blanket.

A blanket over her would also probably be appropriate.

He reached over her body and grabbed the edge of the coverlet that he’d laid her on top of. Not much of it was loose from under the weight of her body, but he tugged it toward him and over her legs and torso the best he could.

There. That seemed right.

He watched her for another minute before turning and picking up the candlestick that the innkeeper had left on the small table by the one chair in the room. He started toward the door.

“Please don’t go.” The softest whisper drifted up to his ears.

Rafe paused, finding her face.

Her eyes were half open, drowsy but intent on him. “I’m scared. What happened to Eva.” The warble in her voice cut into his chest more than the words.

Silently, he nodded and reversed course, moving to sit in the chair near the head of the bed after turning the back of it toward the wall. He set the candlestick on the table and blew out the flame, the only light now coming from the glow of the coals in the fireplace.

“You need to sleep as well.” Her words slipped into the darkness.

“I don’t need much sleep.”

He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out long in front of him as he took off his gloves and set them on the table. His fingers intertwined over his ribcage and he settled his head against the outer wall.

A little moan came from her, like she wanted to say something contrary, but her body had completely given up on staying awake.

Rafe’s mouth pulled into a frown in the darkness as his right pinky rubbed the puckered skin over the knuckle of where his left pinky once existed.

No one worried on him. Ever.

He didn’t care for it.

But he was in this to the bitter end.

Seduce her. Use her. Discard her. That would be the easy part.

Not liking the nymph? That might prove to be more of a challenge.

{ Chapter 7 }

“My aunt told me she met you at the ball?” Victoria looked to her right at Rafe atop his horse, noting how his light brown hair was mussed by the wind—not cropped short but not unmanageably long. Odd that he hadn’t been wearing a hat. His jawline had dark stubble dusting an appearance, making him look more dangerous than he had the day before. But she wasn’t about to wait around for him to shave this morning. She’d insisted they leave immediately after she had woken. It hadn’t even been daybreak.

She needed to get to Seahorn with all the speed of the northern gales. Get help.

Rafe had managed to procure both a wool cloak for her and another horse for her to ride that day, and she was grateful. It meant they could ride faster.

It also meant she didn’t have to spend the day trapped between his arms.

Even with the panic coursing through her yesterday, she’d found his arms around her to be…unnerving.

The whole of his body thick and hard and rugged and she could feel the virility of him, even when she couldn’t see his face.

It didn’t matter that she’d imagined herself in Lady Frantole’s place with this man’s hands on her not but three days ago. To have his arms, his hands, actually on her body was a whole other matter.

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