Somebody To Love (Zebra Historical Romance) by Rothwell Kate

Author:Rothwell, Kate [Rothwell, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2004-11-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

Griffin grinned to himself. He had missed rattling Araminta. He had missed her scent, the swish of her skirts when she moved so energetically, her rounded, delightful body and that mouth. Why the devil was the woman so stiff-necked and unreasonable? She ought to take his offer gladly, especially since she’d already been labeled a loose woman and seemed to have survived with her customary strength.

Perhaps he could seduce her again, and this time keep his mouth shut about hiring her as a mistress. But that would be dishonest and leave too many untidy ends—for he knew that one more night with Araminta would not be enough to cure him of his fever for her.

His need for a formal arrangement had more to do with his own peace of mind than hers. Marriage had always struck him as a fool’s idea of happiness—only children believed in Father Christmas and the myth that a married man was happier than a single one.

Since he was not interested in an institution he did not trust, he would not take a woman without recompense, especially a woman outside of his sphere. Or to be honest, a strong woman like her. Without a businesslike agreement in place, she would attempt to take her compensation in other ways—perhaps she would try to control him, or try to delve too far in where no man or woman was welcome.

Griffin had no interest in sharing more than some entertainment—and his body and his wealth. With both of those, he would be delighted to be extremely generous.

Assuming he did not die of some dreadful infection caused by Buckler’s wound. He settled back on the pillow and grimaced at the throbbing in his side.

He looked around the room with approval. Graceful, well-made, carved furniture. Fresh flowers on the washstand, a touch of lace over the bureau, more watercolors on the wall, a thick carpet on the floor. Simple but luxurious. A woman lived in this room, but he did not feel stifled by feminine clutter. She did not have satin cloth edged with fringes or pompons covering every surface.

With a grunt he pulled himself into a sitting position. Sweat poured down his face, but he did not feel faint. He had not lost very much blood. Just a matter of good luck that the knife had not hit some artery or another.

He examined his side, which had been thoroughly and painfully washed. The doctor adhered to the theory that extreme cleanliness helped healing.

Araminta’s room was not large, so the huge, worn leather and metal trunk that lay open in the middle of the floor and took up a great deal of room must surely have been dragged down from an attic. Was she packing or unpacking?

He pulled himself slowly out of the bed. The doctor had ordered him not to move from the bed for at least a few days, but Griffin had been injured before. His dearest friends, who lived in Central America, believed that after an injury one should move as much as one could.

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