Page 125 of The Lord Meets His Lady

Her palms flattened on the door. How could he say something so…so…knee-weakening? He saidweas though the two of them together could solve anything. Lord Bowles stood an arm’s length from her, both hands on his hips. In shirtsleeves and waistcoat with his hip boots on, he was more a man of the land and less the fine London nob.

She rubbed her breastbone where her heart beat under her hand. “Why is this so important…you helping me?”

“Mysolemn vow,” he rasped, “is to protect you.”

“And there’s absolutely no possessiveI-have-what-he-wantsmale tit for tat going on here between you and Herr Wolf?”

“Not at all.”

Her brow arched higher.

“A little.Verylittle,” he insisted, a boyish grin in place.

Lord Bowles reached for her hand, pulling her closer. He rubbed her arms from shoulders to elbows, the friction sweet, their bodies bumping gently, even sweeter. Being with him called to her soul. They fit.

A hot shiver slipped between her legs. She couldn’t help but recall what had happened the last time he’d pinned her to a wall.

“There’s something else you ought to consider,” he said.

“Such as?”

“You scared me.”

“How?”

“When you charged off, I knew what you had in mind.”

“I’ve taken care of myself for too long,” she said. “You don’t need my hardships.”

Awareness teased her. His scent, his heat bounced off his body to hers. She wanted to escape, but her leaden limbs refused to move.

“There is nothing so frightening as an independent woman,” he murmured between kisses on her forehead. “I don’t want to lose you.”

She nestled in to him, the last threads of control snapping. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. This was victory and defeat. Her hands wandered over his wool waistcoat. Burgeoning whiskers scraped her nose. Scents of plain soap lingered on his skin from hasty ablutions at his washstand. Whiskey’s aroma clung to his neckcloth…the same one he wore last night.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered.

Her eyes squeezed shut at his tender plea. They were in a race to care for each other.

“I can’t help but blame myself for what’s happened.”

“What use is blame? Life’s hard enough. Live each day as it comes.”

With his arms around her, she could believe anything was possible.

“What are we going to do?”

“Give me time to think,” he said, massaging her shoulders. “We must be vigilant. For your safety, youhaveto stay by my side.”

A tiny line slanted between his brows. Her husband was quite serious about this.

“Is that a ploy to get me into your bed?”

He flashed his satyr’s grin. “Is it working?”

She stood in the shelter he offered, her will to run lost. Her body had wedged its way between his thighs as though being there was her natural right.

Wool scraped her palms. She caressed his waistcoat-covered chest, staring at the weave. “You’ve convinced me. My well-being rests entirely in your hands.”