‘I have been up and down those steps a dozen times,’ Lina retorted, indignation taking her mind off her bruises, and almost off the clamouring demands of her body. He was so close. ‘They are only dangerous if one is running away from a libertine! This is all your fault.’
‘There was no need to run—a simple no would have sufficed. Does that hurt?’ He took hold of her right ankle, his big hand gentle as it encircled the slender bones.
‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘Everything hurts. And take your hands off my…my nether limb. You would not take any notice of no, I have no doubt of that! A sledgehammer would be required to discourage you.’
He sat back on his heels and grinned, her anger seeming to wash right over his head. To her relief he did not seem inclined to take advantage of the fact she was sprawled on the ground in front of him, her petticoats up to her knees and her ankle still in his grasp. A minute ago she had been melting in his arms… She twitched her skirts down as he said, ‘It is a very charming nether limb, but I really do need to check.’
He appeared to have absolutely no shame for what he had just done as he undid her laces and eased off the boot, then the other one. ‘Now, can you wriggle your toes? Good. Circle your ankle. Now your hands—fingers, wrists. There, nothing broken.’ He slipped her boots back on and laced them, then got to his feet and held out his hands. ‘Up you come. What was that?’ he asked, his arm coming round her when she gave a yelp of pain.
‘My ribs are bruised. I bounced on those steps all the way down,’ Celina said resentfully. ‘And my bu… My pos… I landed with a thud.’
‘I see. I had better carry you back.’ Ashley stooped and swept her up before she could protest. ‘And do not struggle or I might drop you and then you would land on your bu… On whatever unmentionable part it was you have just bruised so painfully.’
Lina found herself settled against his chest with nothing to do with her right arm but wrap it around his neck. In sensation novels the heroine, when swept into the hero’s masterful arms, was prey to a multitude of sensations, most of them described as fluttering, swooning or joyful.
This did not happen when one was bruised, embarrassed and angry and the man doing the masterful sweeping up was not the clean-cut hero rushing to the heroine’s rescue, but quite obviously the villain of the piece, with libertine tendencies lurking behind a thin veneer of humour and charm.
‘This is entirely your responsibility, my lord,’ she snapped, so close to his ear that he flinched. There was a mark in the lobe—it was pierced for an earring, she realised, shocked. At least he had the decency not to sport it in English society. As a first experience of a kiss, a first romantic encounter, this was not at all what she had dreamed of. It had been anything but tender; in fact, it had been shamefully disturbing and almost violently arousing.
‘How so? I did not tell you to throw yourself down those stairs.’
‘I was escaping from your assault.’
‘You assaulted me,’ he protested. ‘You bit me.’
‘You kissed me first.’
‘I was trying to kiss you,’ Ashley corrected. ‘And it was very pleasant—up to a point.’ He was grinning, the wretch. ‘And you tried to hit me.’
‘And that did not tell you anything about my wishes in the matter?’ Lina demanded. I should be alarmed. I could have been ravished just now. Or would even the most hardened rake attempt seduction on top of a windswept lookout deep in the woods? It had seemed like seduction just now. It had seemed like madness.
‘I was coming to the conclusion that we were not entirely of one mind—and then you opened those very lovely lips and I was lost. For a few seconds I was completely off guard.’
It was difficult not to smile back. But of course, this sort of disarming behaviour was probably standard tactics for a predatory rake. ‘Lord Dreycott,’ Lina said with all the severity of which she was capable—which, to be frank, she knew was not much, ‘you should not have tried to kiss me in the first place.’
If he only looked like Sir Humphrey Tolhurst or one of the other habitués of The Blue Door, then she would be terrified of him. Because this man was handsome and charming and made her laugh, and left her feeling as though her bones were melting along with her will-power, he was more dangerous than they were, not less. The devil, as Papa was fond of saying, wore a pretty face when he was tempting the unwary sinner.
‘I know. But you were so utterly irresistible. I was intrigued enough by the nun, but when she was suddenly a furious Valkyrie, eyes flashing, that mane of blonde hair flying in the breeze, I was lost.’
‘What is a Va
lkyrie?’ Lina asked, suspicious that it was another cant term for a loose woman. Ashley began to make his way down the steep path, his muscles moving in intriguing and disturbing ways.
‘A Norse female horsewoman who carries the dead warriors back to Valhalla, the home of the gods, from the battlefield. But never mind Norse legend—why were you so furious when I called you a nun?’
‘Because…’ Lina found explaining was beyond her. ‘Why did you?’
‘The plain gowns, the prim necklines, the scraped-back hair, the downcast eyes.’ He turned his head a little to see her face. His own was amused, but she could read the speculation in his eyes. ‘A perfect little nun. I assume it was your idea to make yourself look older than you are and more suitable as a housekeeper.’
‘Oh.’ So, he had seen right through that! ‘I did think it was more appropriate. And after your great-uncle died and we were in mourning, black was the only proper colour.’ She had thrown gowns into her portmanteaux almost at random when she had fled. One had fortunately been black, another a soft blue grey and the third plain white, so with dye, the coloured trimmings removed and the necklines raised with the judicious use of ribbons and muslin, she had sufficient sombre gowns to be respectable.
‘Great-Uncle Simon would not want mourning,’ Ashley said with decision. His foot slipped, but with a twist he had his balance back, despite the burden in his arms. He was strong, Lina realised, strong and fit and hard. She closed her eyes for a moment and let her head rest on his shoulder before she had the will-power to lift it again. ‘In fact, I think I will forbid it to the entire household. No, you may get out your pretty gowns again.’
‘I have just dyed them all black,’ Lina said, pulling herself together and opening her eyes again. It was not true, she had three more gowns untouched, but she was not producing those, all chosen with the help of Aunt Clara. Quinn Ashley would like them far too well, she was sure.
‘Buy some more,’ he said carelessly. ‘You can afford to now.’
‘Yes, I suppose I can. Mr Havers told me I may have pin money. But in any case, I am the housekeeper.’