To Bed a Beaty

the shutters and rain pounded on the roof-but inside the sounds were hushed.

“I don’t want to light the stove,” Roslyn said while searching through the cupboards, “since hopefully the storm will pass soon and we can be on our way. But I could make some tea at the fireplace.”

“Can you?” Drew asked.

“Yes. There is a canister of tea here and fresh water in an urn.”

“I meant, do you know how?”

“I am capable of boiling water, your grace,” she replied, her tone dry.

His mouth twitched. “I don’t doubt you are a woman of many talents,” he said as he sat in a wooden chair to remove his sodden boots. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know much about cooking.”

Across the room, Roslyn shrugged. “We were raised to privilege, but we had to learn any number of new skills once we lost our home and fortunes.” Glancing up, she regarded him across the room. “You seem surprised.”

He was indeed surprised. He couldn’t imagine his imperious mother deigning to make her own tea over an open fire, or grooming her own horses either.

But Roslyn seemed efficient as she filled the kettle and hung it in the hearth to boil.

Then remaining there, she held her chilled hands out before the struggling fire. Even over the snapping flames, Drew could hear her teeth chattering, and she was obviously shivering.

“You had best take off your wet gown,” he said casually as he pulled off his second boot and started on his stockings.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch. “You cannot be serious.”

“Do you think I mean to ravish you? When you look as appealing as a bedraggled cat?”

She studied him silently, a worried frown creasing her brow.

Drew kept his expression bland. He had meant to set her at ease regarding his lascivious intentions, but even with her looking like the pitiful victim of a shipwreck, he still felt an uncommonly powerful attraction for her. And seeing her soaked and shivering brought out his protective instincts, along with other less-nurturing urges that were strong and powerfully male.

“There should be some blankets in the bedchamber. You can swathe yourself head to toe.”

“Thank you, but I will be fine as I am.”

“You would rather freeze?”

“I think perhaps I might.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be foolish. I have seen your charms more than once, angel. Taking off your gown would hardly be a worse offense.”

“Please, do not remind me. Last night was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

Drew couldn’t disagree more. Last night had certainly not been a mistake-and he meant to make Roslyn understand that.

“I am crushed,” he drawled. “My first proposal of marriage ever, and you fling it back in my face.”

“Because you weren’t at all serious.”

“I beg to differ. I was deadly serious.”

Roslyn’s short laugh held little amusement. “You were only trying to demonstrate your prowess. You are devastatingly adept at lovemaking, and you wanted to prove how easily you could seduce me. It meant nothing to you.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said in a low voice.

Instead of answering, she faced the fire again and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop shivering.

“Roslyn,” Drew said again, “go take off your gown before you catch your death. I promise I won’t ravish you.” At least not without invitation.

“No. Last night was bad enough.”

“You’re afraid Haviland will learn we are here together, but I won’t tell him, I promise.”

“Haviland, among others. It is highly improper for us to be here alone like this, even if we had little choice.”

But Drew’s attention was still focused on his rival. “You haven’t told me how your drive with him went this morning. Did you even go?”

“Yes, I drove out with him,” she said slowly.

“After I specifically asked you not to?”

Roslyn turned her head to stare at him. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Haviland.”

He wanted to deny it, but even to his own ears his tone held irritation and impatience. Curse it all, of course he could be jealous. Roslyn wanted another man. Lord, how he hated the idea.

Before he could reply, another wracking shudder ran through her, which only added to his growing ire. When she clenched her teeth together to keep them from clacking, Drew had had enough.

“Roslyn, my sweet, take yourself into the bedchamber and divest yourself of those wet garments before I do it for you.”

She eyed him for a long moment before giving an exasperated sigh. “You probably would, wouldn’t you?”

“Most assuredly.”

She didn’t quite stalk into the other room, but she was clearly not happy about having to obey his order.

During her absence, Drew took the opportunity to remove most of his own soggy clothing-his cravat and waistcoat and shirt-and hung them on wall pegs to dry. In the interest of propriety, he left on his drawers and breeches, no matter how cold and clammy they were, and crossed to the hearth to warm his chilled body before the growing blaze.

But even that, apparently, was too risque for Roslyn. When a brief while later she emerged from the bedchamber with her feet bare and a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, she came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened as she surveyed his partial state of undress, the blush staining her cheeks revealing her discomfort.

“I f-found a blanket for you,” she stammered. “You should cover yourself.”

“I will be happy to.”

When he made no move toward her, though, she slowly crossed to him and handed him the blanket. Drew draped it around his shoulders as Roslyn quickly turned away. His loins had hardened at the thought of her naked beneath that quilt, but when it parted slightly, he saw that she’d kept on her chemise, even though the lawn fabric was wet.

She was carrying her sopping gown and other undergarments, however, and hung them on wall pegs before casting him a wary glance as if to ask, “Now what?”

Drew was very aware of the sudden tension in the air, just as he knew she was.

She was also still trembling with cold.

“Come warm yourself at the fire,” he said, feigning indifference.

She obeyed with obvious reluctance-and then jumped when he reached up touch her hair. “What are you doing?”

“Taking down your hair. It’s still dripping wet. You need to dry it if you hope to get warm.”

Her indecision was understandable; she couldn’t remove the pins from her hair and still keep hold of the quilt.

She stood stock-still while his fingers searched for the pins that held up the heavy gold mass, then smoothed the damp tresses down her back. “There, that should help.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing up at him.

Drew sucked in a sharp breath. The light thrown by the flames cast a golden glow over her beautiful face. She was temptation itself, and he wasn’t able to resist.

Slowly he lifted his hand to her face, letting his thumb trace her jaw.

“I th-think I had best make the tea,” Roslyn said shakily.

“The water isn’t hot yet.”

When he moved his fingers to her lips, she drew in a sharp breath, too. “You promised…” Her protest was no more than a whisper.