I Kissed a Rogue by Galen Shana

Author:Galen, Shana [Galen, Shana]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Published: 2016-03-02T08:00:00+00:00

Twelve

The heat of his body settled beside her, and Lila resisted the urge to curve toward it. Instead, she huddled on her side of the bed, waiting for him to pounce.

He didn’t.

He hissed in a breath, making a sound of pain, and then lay still.

Oh, how could she pretend to sleep if he was in pain? She turned toward him, propping herself up on her elbow. “Are you well?”

He’d pulled the curtain mostly closed, shielding the bed from much of the firelight. Outside, lightning flashed. The storm was still miles away, but for an instant the room flickered brighter. His face looked grim and set in marble.

“Fine. I moved too quickly.”

Lila sat, concerned. “You didn’t open the wound again, did you?”

“No. In my haste to join you in bed, I forgot my injury. It was a twinge. Nothing more.”

He wasn’t the sort of man to hiss in pain at a twinge. If he opened the wound, she’d better clean and bandage it again.

“Let me see.” She tugged at the coverlet.

He held it in place. “Lila. I’m fine.”

“Let me see.”

He released the coverlet, and she drew it down. She couldn’t see anything in the dark and reached over him to draw the curtain back and allow more firelight. Across the room, the mother cat raised her head to peer at her curiously, then lowered it again and went back to sleep.

Brook hissed in another breath, and Lila glanced down at him. Her unbound hair trailed over his chest. He certainly didn’t welcome the sensation.

“I beg your pardon,” he said.

Now that she had more light, she settled on her knees and studied the bandage. It looked clean and dry. The wound hadn’t started bleeding again. She plucked at the binding, peering underneath. She saw no sign of infection. It seemed to be healing quickly.

“Satisfied?” Brook asked.

“Yes.” Now was the time she should pull her hand away and cover him with the sheets again. She should lie back down and resist his advances, thereby preserving some of her modesty and dignity.

Her hand lingered though, her fingers hovering just above the bronze flesh of his chest. Her skin looked pasty beside his gold-tinged chest. “How is it your skin is so tanned?” she asked.

“I believe we have Mediterranean blood somewhere in our family line,” he told her. “One of my ancestors couldn’t resist the allure of a Moroccan princess. Or so the legend goes.”

“Really?” She glanced at his face. His eyes, always so dark and mysterious, were locked on hers.

“That’s the rumor. Of course, it might also be because Northbridge boasts the best swimming hole in all of England. I’ve been known to swim there for hours in the summer.”

She almost asked if he swam nude but closed her mouth before the impertinent question might be voiced. “And here I thought you spent all of your time chasing thieves and murderers in Spitalfields.”

“I would, but my mother insists I visit her on occasion. I’m certain you understand.”

She didn’t. Her mother had been dead these past five years, and neither her father nor her stepmother requested or seemed to want her company.

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