“There is so much gentle strength in you,” she said quietly, feeling the power in the blunt-tipped fingers that held hers. “I don’t know how I know it, but I know I’m safe, even though your demeanor is so fierce and fearsome.”
He tried to smile, but with the swelling pulling his skin it looked more like a sneer. “Would never hurt you.”
“I know that, silly man. You chopped my mutton.”
“Eh?”
“The night we met, you chopped— Oh, never mind it. Will you tell me how you got hurt?”
She waited but he said nothing.
Her hand grew hot within his hold; her entire arm simmering as he feathered gentle caresses over her skin, parts south flaring to life at the heated look he gave her. But he’d yet to explain. “My lord?”
“Mmm?”
“Did Lord Penry do this? Attack you? Pound your face?”
He shook his head once.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
He thought a moment. “I walked into a d-d— Ow!” He hissed when she squeezed his fingers at the lie. He finished wanly, “A…door?”
So he didn’t intend to tell her? All right, neither did she relish confessing how her blunder-headed afternoon had gone. “A door? One with a nasty streak it appears.”
“And you?” he inquired silkily, taking up her other hand and spreading both her arms wide so he could survey her from fallen hair to mud-splattered hem. “Where— What of your…day? Stroll into the ocean? Embrace a shark or…two?”
“Oh, that…” She whirled from his loose hold, too embarrassed to confess her folly while standing beneath his inspection.
“Aye, that.” Lord Tremayne came up behind her, halting her retreat by pulling her spine flush against his chest.
“My lord. Stop. I’m drenched.” But she couldn’t stop herself from sinking against his strong, stalwart body and her protest was halfhearted at best. “I’ll ruin your clothes—”
“Hang my clothes,” he said hotly, his breath tickling her ear. He pulled her tight to him with one arm snug across her middle. “Thea—were you set upon by footpads?”
“Nay,” she rushed to assure him. “Nothing so dire.”
“Attacked by angry geese?”
That had her laughing and hugging his arm. “If you must know, you wretched man, I became lost. Lost in the rain the first time I ventured out and it was—it was—” She swallowed the growing lump of fear, determined not to give in to unrealized what-ifs. “’Twas…”
So very frightening. Wandering the streets for what amounted to hours, wondering if I’d ever find my way back. Back home, back to your arms—
“Alas!” She shoved his comforting touch away and broke free, scrubbing at her eyes. “’Twas no fun at all. I detest feeling so very helpless and alone.” Hearing what she’d divulged, Thea rushed to cover the admission. Edging farther away, she shrugged. “Though I hadn’t realized it, I must have wickedly awful compass sense and—and—”
The heavy gait of his steps shadowing her gave but a second’s warning before he spun her to him again, this time chest to chest.
He flinched and his breath hissed out. But he only held her more securely as his fingers went to the buttons at her nape. “So you d-did have a fright.”
He swore, but his fingers remained gentle. She stared at the column of his throat, again catching that elusive scent of his and drawing it deep into her lungs. A faint memory teased—
Once several buttons were undone, he curved his hand around the base of her neck. “You’re freezing.” It was a growl. “Where’s that water—”
As though summoned, Mrs. Samuels knocked and forged inside at his brisk “Enter.”
She started to step back but he kept her in his embrace.
Both Mrs. and Mr. Samuels came into the small room, carrying steaming pots, which they placed on the washstand. “We’ll be but a moment and I’ll have refreshments brought to your chamber as well,” she told them, kindly keeping her eyes averted. “Sam already has the fire going and the room is warming nicely. Will there be anything else, Miss Thea? Lord Tremayne?”
She let him answer in the negative as her mind was working feverishly, thanks to the spicy scent of cloves and something else, something faint but sweet, taking her back to when she’d first seen him—when he’d arrived late to Sarah’s and had drawn such a chorus of greetings just before sitting next to her.
“Wait.” Recklessly, her mind on two different paths at once, Thea called to Mrs. Samuels. The woman popped her head back in and Thea said, “The master chamber down the hall. Please heat it as well.”
“Certainly, miss.”
Once they were alone, Lord Tremayne went right back to undoing her buttons and she returned to resolving what kept niggling her brain. Astonishingly, the experience of being undressed by him paled as she pieced a large part of the Tremayne puzzle together.
“There now. Lean…” He coaxed her away and started tugging the sodden, tight-fitting sleeves of her dress down her arms. “Forgive me.”
His words arrested her from the fact that the bodice of her dress had just drooped forward, leaving her upper half covered by only a damp chemise. That and long, stubborn sleeves, adhering like glue to her elbows. “Forgive you? What ever do you mean?”
“I’ve…” Though it appeared all his energies were focused on peeling down her left sleeve, Thea had the sense he didn’t see his efforts at all, that his attention was aimed inward. “Remiss. Horri…bly so. Not to have stationed a footman here or…assigned you a coachman or—”
“Stop.” She was practically giddy. He felt guilty over not giving her more servants? “Remiss? When you’ve blessed me with so very much? ’Tis I who needs to learn directions. You fight for sport, do you not?”
“There.” The left sleeve finally free, he pierced her with his one good—and one swollen-narrowed—eye. “What?”
“You. The bruises.” She was so relieved to have figured it out. “Like cockfighting—you fight for sport.”
She’d heard of men who wagered on roosters or dogs trained to fight to the death. Knew how popular boxing had become, men actually enjoying
