The Solemn Bell(16)

He wondered if Miss Grey minded that he undressed in front of her. She listened, of course. He could tell by the almost imperceptible tilt of her head. She tracked each article of clothing as he pulled it from his ragged body. When he finally stood bare before her, Brody knew that the flush on her skin was not from the heat of the stove.

The realization thrilled him.

He hadn’t wanted a woman to want him in a long time. When he felt the need, there was always some girl prepared to slake his lust, but it had never mattered whether they’d found him attractive. No, what those girls were after had nothing to do with sex or love. Yet, he wished for nothing less from the beautiful Miss Grey.

Blood and caked mud ran down his body in filthy, slimy rivulets. His skin had already started to bruise, and even the simple act of washing himself was agony. He’d laughed earlier when she’d told him he needed a bath, but, truthfully, Brody felt self-conscious. The last thing he wanted was to offend her with his stench, especially now that he felt the urge to get close to her.

With the blood and stale sweat gone, he slipped his shirt over his head, and buttoned up his trousers. He poured the dirty wash-water out, and vainly tried to tidy up the mess he made. He did not want Miss Grey to slip and fall on the slick slate floor where he’d dripped.

“Leave it,” she said, suddenly. “It can wait until morning.”

Brody looked up. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, she was arrestingly beautiful. He wanted to go to her, to pull her down on her pathetic pallet on the floor, and make love to her. She wanted it, too. Brody felt certain that, even as a sweating wreck of a man, he could seduce her. He could have her in his arms, with her faded, moth-eaten skirts tossed over her shoulders, before she realized her mistake.

But he’d never do that. What Miss Grey had, untouched, between her thighs was sacred to him. He could no more defile her here—now—than he could reach up and touch the hand of God.

He was a gentleman, after all.

The realization came as a shock.

“Miss Grey…” he cleared his throat.

She moved toward him in the darkness. In an instant, she was there before him, lifting her ghost-white hand to his warm, dampened chest. Christ, his heart raced at her touch. He nearly had a fit as she snaked around his neck, threading her fingertips in his thick, rumpled hair, to guide his face down to meet hers.

Brody stalled at the last second. “We mustn’t…”

Her breath was hot on his lips. “I don’t care.”

“But I’m sick.”

“I don’t care.” She pressed their mouths together. She’d never kissed anyone before—he felt certain of it—but that did not make it any less enjoyable.

Spurred on by her encouragement, Brody opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. As their lips danced, he slid his hands to her waist, pressing her body against him. This girl was no automaton. She felt very much alive.

“Miss Grey,” he whispered against her lips.

“For God’s sake, call me Angelica. I haven’t heard my name in years.”

“Angelica.” Her name was like a balm to his heart, and a bucket of icy water over his head.

Brody pulled away in shock. He’d gone too far with her already, taking liberties while they were trapped together in her kitchen. Although she had instigated it, he did not want her to feel she had to go through with anything simply because she had nowhere to run.

“This isn’t a good time,” he confessed, untangling her fingers from his hair.

Her blank, blue eyes stared at his chin.

“Angelica, we are barred in your kitchen, on the run from the Devil himself. We’ll both be damned if we take things any further.” When she still didn’t seem to comprehend, he added, “You might think you want it now, but you won’t after I’m through with you. It would be a mistake. I’m not at my best, just now. I’d make a poor showing, and if it’s going to be your first time, I’d rather you not look back on it as a disappointment.”

She almost smiled. “So it is vanity that keeps you from me?”

“Fear, mostly. You are terrifying, Angelica Grey. You make me quake.”

Now, she laughed. The sound was sweet and husky. “All right, Captain Neill. You win. I suppose I’ll just have to make do with my first and only kiss. So, thank you for that, at least. It was wonderful.”





***





The kiss had been wonderful. He had been wonderful.

Angelica thought back to the urgent, lustful couples who visited her home. Without seeing the sexual act, she had no idea what it entailed, but, from the impassioned moans and whispered encouragements, she didn’t think those girls left regretting the thing they’d done.

She sank down onto her pallet by the stove. Now that she was safe and warm, she grew drowsy. Her exchange with Captain Neill had drained her. And, even though she was a grown-up, she’d stayed up far past her bedtime. Truthfully, seduction was fast becoming the last thing on her mind. The need for sleep was paramount.

“You’re welcome to join me,” she said, spreading the tattered blanket across her body.

He stood over her. “I won’t sleep tonight. But, I’ll lay with you if you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

Angelica laughed. “You’re safe from me, Captain Neill.”