Page 10 of Daredevil Lady and the Mysterious Millionaire (The Hidden Hearts Collection #3)

Four

Z eke gave a brisk knock on his bedchamber door. “Miss Kavanaugh?”

No answer.

He knocked again. Still no response. Maybe Wellington was mistaken. Maybe in all the confusion, the girl had slipped away. She had sure looked alarmed enough to run earlier, when she heard that the police had been summoned.

The thought that Miss Kavanaugh might already have gone filled him with an unexpected sense of disappointment. Turning the knob, he shoved the bedchamber door open.

The room seemed deserted, only the light of the lamp on the bureau breaking the gloom. Then something stirred on the bed.

“Miss Kavanaugh?” Zeke tiptoed forward.

She was curled up on her side, nestled against the pillows, apparently fast asleep.

He grinned and moved the lamp closer for a better look at her.

The light gleamed upon the silken cascade of her dark brown hair, which tumbled across the covers.

Mixed among the strands was a sheen of red he hadn’t noticed before.

Thick lashes rested against her cheeks, which were pale with fatigue.

For the first time, Zeke took note of the pert tilt of her nose, the almost perfect bow shape of her lips.

She was a dainty-looking little thing to be risking her neck, performing stunts in a balloon or threatening to mill down a man of his weight and size. Her courage roused Zeke’s admiration even if he did think she must be a little insane.

His gaze traveled lower, over the silken robe, which had become disarranged in her sleep.

The blue folds parted in a deep vee, affording him a glimpse of her small, firm breasts, the dark crests of her nipples.

She had cast out one leg, baring the smooth contours up to a shapely thigh, the rest tantalizingly concealed beneath the drapings of the robe.

How warm and soft her skin would be to caress, more soft than the silk she wore.

She was indeed a little temptress, albeit a most innocent-looking one.

Zeke experienced a familiar tightening of his loins. Damn! It appeared both Wellington and Mrs. Van H. were far more perceptive than he regarding the charms of Miss Kavanaugh, It was time to see about being fitted with spectacles.

He shifted the lamp back to the bureau, half-ashamed of ogling her while she slept on, peacefully unaware. Returning to her side, he reached down and tugged the robe into a more decorous position, covering as best he could that alluring expanse of limb.

Even at that slight touch, Miss Kavanaugh stirred, but she did not awaken.

From the tension that knotted her brow, Zeke thought that she was not enjoying the most restful sleep.

Perhaps she sensed him hovering and it frightened her.

He ought to retreat, just let her sleep.

But when she muttered something, then moaned, it occurred to Zeke she was caught in the throes of a bad dream, a dream that was getting worse, judging from the way she squirmed and thrashed about.

When a whimper escaped her, he perched on the edge of the bed and gently shook her arm. “Miss Kavanaugh, wake up.”

“No. Please!” She mumbled and resisted, flinging out her hand to ward something away, whether it was himself or some monster from her dreams, Zeke couldn’t tell.

He shook her more firmly. “Aurora. Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

She sat bolt upright all at once, gasping for breath, her eyes wide open, confusion and terror in their depths. Her gaze roved fearfully around the chamber, then locked upon him. She shrank back.

“What—where?”

“It’s all right,” Zeke said. “It’s only me. Remember? The idiot whose lawn wrecked your balloon.”

Recognition slowly returned to her eyes, but she continued to tremble.

“There’s nothing to be scared of. You were only having a bad dream.”

He couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms. She stiffened at first, then clung to him in a way that roused a rare sense of protectiveness in him, a protectiveness he would never have felt toward any of those society misses who shrieked at the sight of a butterfly.

But a girl like this one, brave enough to dare the skies beneath a scrap of silk and a puff of hot air—nothing should be allowed to frighten her. Ever.

Zeke cradled her against him. “No one’s going to hurt you. It was just a nightmare. There are no bogeymen here.”

“It wasn’t a bogeyman,” she whispered, burrowing against his shoulder. “It was the fog and I thought the banshee was coming again.”

Zeke had no idea what a banshee was, but he tried to soothe her, “Shh. Forget about it. You’re awake now.”

“Yes, but it was so strange. When I peeked beneath the hood, it wasn’t the banshee at all.” Here she tipped back her head to peer up at him with troubled eyes. “It was your friend, Mrs. Van Hallsburg.”

That startled Zeke a little. He had never thought Mrs. Van H. to be the stuff of nightmares, but he conceded, “I guess she must have come off seeming like a shrew to you, but?—”

“No! She’s an evil woman.”

“Sure. Sure she is.” Zeke patted Aurora on the shoulder. “But you don’t have to worry about her. She’s gone now and so are the police.”

This assurance calmed her a little. She relaxed, resting her head against him once more.

She was every bit as soft and warm as he had imagined.

Her womanly curves molded against him as though she were made to be in his arms. Once again he felt his blood quicken.

It had been a long time since he had embraced a girl like this one, smelling of springtime and fresh Sunday mornings.

He was beginning to enjoy holding her, consoling her, a shade too much. Perhaps she sensed that because she tensed and pulled free. She bolted off the bed, clutching the robe tightly about her.

She eyed Zeke in a wary manner, which annoyed him. After all, he wasn’t making any effort to come after her. He was no masher, and she was the one who’d been caught snuggled up on his bed.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven.”

She winced and stole a look toward the windows, the pool of darkness beyond. “And Tony hasn’t come yet?”

“Your assistant? I’m afraid there has been no sign of him. But I am sure I can make other arrangements for you.” Zeke started to rise from the bed, but she seemed so skittish, he remained where he was, leaning back, propping his weight against his elbows.

She nervously fingered the edge of the robe. “Your maids haven’t brought my clothes back yet.”

“No, I guess they haven’t. How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to look at it,” she said in a rush as she retreated another step. “I’m just still a little groggy. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I’m glad you found my bed so comfortable.”

“Your bed! This is your room?”

“Yep.”

She appeared ready to bolt for sure, either that or grab up the poker from the fireplace to defend herself.

Zeke didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated. “I have only been trying to show you a little hospitality after your accident.” He levered himself to his feet. “So I would appreciate it if you would stop looking as though you thought I was about to rape you.”

“I’m sorry. But this is all a little embarrassing. I usually don’t hug strange men.”

“Or steal into their beds?”

His teasing comment only added to her discomfort.

“I never meant to cause you such trouble,” she continued. “You have been really nice, letting me use your bathtub and not turning me over to the police and all.” She fretted her lower lip. “And I’m sorry that I shouted at you earlier.”

“If it comes to that, I guess I wasn’t exactly speaking in dulcet tones either. It’s refreshing for a change to meet a woman who bellows back at me instead of bursting into tears.”

This coaxed a smile from her. Zeke thought that he might be able to risk moving a step closer. “We got off to a bad start with this acquaintance, didn’t we, Miss Aurora Rose Kavanaugh? Maybe we could just start over again.”

“Sure,” she said, but she ignored his outstretched hand and took care to keep the dressing table chair in between them.

Zeke didn’t know what to make of her. She seemed as shy and innocent as his stepsisters had been, all those good girls who trooped off to mass, carrying their missals and rosary beads.

And yet as a circus performer, Miss Kavanaugh could hardly be that naive, lacking in experience of the world.

Before Zeke could say anything more, a knock sounded at the bedchamber door.

He opened it to find Wellington on the other side, bearing Miss Kavanaugh’s gown.

The butler’s poker expression was more annoying than if he had been wearing a smirk.

Zeke took the gown from him and closed the door in his face.

He carried the dress over to Aurora. She snatched it from him with an expression of real relief. She inspected the peach silk folds briefly and exclaimed. “Why, it looks almost as good as new. Your maids did an incredible job.”

Zeke agreed, though he could not help wishing that for once his staff had not been so damned efficient. He would have liked just a little more time.

A weighty pause ensued in which she stared at him expectantly. It finally dawned on Zeke that she was waiting for him to leave so she could get dressed.

“I’ll send Maisie in to help you,” he said.

“Yes, I would be grateful. Thank you. Thank you for everything, Mr. Morrison.”

He nodded and backed toward the door. Why had it taken him until now to realize how pretty she was?

Especially when she smiled, showing an even row of pearly teeth.

He liked the way those freckles dusted across her nose; most women fought like the devil to keep the sun off their faces.

He liked the quicksilver shade of her eyes, the way she met his gaze head-on, never fluttering her lashes like some fool coquette.

And he definitely liked the way that blue silk clung to her curves.