Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3) by Jan Jones

Author:Jan Jones [Jones, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jan Jones
Published: 2016-11-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

“Miss Caro - his lordship’s having them dreams again.”

Caroline was awake and pulling a shawl around her nightgown before Thomas had finished speaking, almost as if her sleeping body had been waiting for just this summons. She hurried down the stairs to where Alexander was tossing from side to side in the bed.

“Hush,” she said. “Hush, you need to rest.”

“Go then,” he muttered, “go and be damned to you.”

This wasn’t the bridge. Nor was it his sister. Caroline dipped a handkerchief in water to cool his brow, afraid that he would split open the healing cut. “My lord, you must calm yourself.” This was what came of extra wine at dinner.

He put up his hand and bore down on her wrist. “Go! Cease torturing me!”

“Are you all right, miss?” called Thomas, hovering anxiously in the doorway.

“Is that him?” growled Alexander. “I will make him more interesting than me for you. I’ll riddle him with holes, damn his hide.”

His emotion burnt how she must act into Caroline’s mind. She flapped her free hand at Thomas to tell him to go right away. If she had guessed correctly, the last thing Alexander needed in this particular nightmare was a male voice intruding into his scarred memories. Was it Rosetta who had spurned him? Or a more legitimate love? Whoever it was, she had hurt him badly and the hurt had to be eased.

Caroline sat on the edge of the bed. “I have changed my mind,” she said softly. “I was wrong. Forgive me, Alexander. I will stay, if you wish it.”

He stopped threshing. His grip lessened. “Stay?”

Caroline stroked his cheek, feeling the faint roughness against her fingers. “Yes, I will stay. Go to sleep, my lord. I will be here.”

She was not prepared for his hand to release her wrist and move to her breast as surely as if his eyes were open and the lamp lit. She almost forgot to breathe when he cupped the roundness through the stout cotton of her nightgown. Not stout enough, she realised in further shock as his thumb stroked backwards and forwards across her nipple. “Lie down, sweetheart,” he said drowsily.

Caroline could barely concentrate, so awash was she with this strange, sweet sensation. She knew, in a hazy, urgent way, that she should move away, that she should leave. She was alone in a gentleman’s bedroom wearing nothing but a nightgown. And even if that gentleman was asleep, his hands were very much awake. But... but... His thumb stroked her again. Pleasure shot through her, branching up to her throat and down to her loins. Dear God, this was wonderful. She twisted to look behind her; the doorway remained mercifully empty of footmen. Praying with everything she knew for it to remain so, she eased herself to lie on the covers next to Alexander.

He turned onto his side with a great sigh, his hand slipping to her other breast. “Need you,” he murmured, so low she hardly heard him. “Don’t go.”

Her heart hammered. She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried.

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