A Dash of Scandal(88)

The valet set the tray on the round rosewood table beside the settee.

“Thank you, Winston.”

“Yes, sir. Can I do anything else?”

“No. I can take care of everything from here. Good night.”

“Very well, sir. Good night.” Winston walked out and closed the door behind him.

“He seems very capable,” Millicent said.

“He is.” Long ago Chandler had told Winston when he said the words good night that meant he was not to be disturbed again that evening.

“Is the brandy making you feel better?” he asked as he sat down on the settee beside her.

“Yes.” She smiled. “For the third time I will tell you, I am fine and I am calm. Even my headache is better. Don’t ask me again.”

“All right. Let’s clean that cut.”

Chandler dipped the cloth in the cold water and gently washed the blood away from her wound and face. His face was very close to hers, and he was tempted to kiss her lips, but he silently, tenderly cared for her. When he asked her if it hurt, she merely shook her head and remained quiet until he had rubbed the ointment over the broken skin.

“There. All done. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as I thought. There shouldn’t even be a scar after it heals. Go on and finish your brandy.”

“Thank you,” she said as he picked up the tray of water and moved it to a table by the window.

“It’s comforting to know that I shall live.”

Chandler walked back to the settee and sat down beside her, much closer than he should have, and picked up his drink and took another sip of the amber liquid so much the color of Millicent’s eyes. He didn’t know if it was the brandy that warmed him or the fact that Millicent was in his house. Suddenly he had a great desire to embrace her. He shouldn’t have sent Winston to bed. Being alone with Millicent was just too damn tempting.

“Yes, you will live to tell your grandchildren all about how you discovered the Mad Ton Thief. Now that I think about it, maybe you should have a scar so you can show them how heroic you were.”

She laughed. “Oh, you do make the event sound much more dashing than it was, and don’t forget you are the one who first noticed that the Lady Heathecoute’s skirt didn’t look right.”

He smiled and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “No, no. You deserve all the glory, and you have the wound to prove it.”

“Jealous?” she teased.

“I would take any wound for you. I don’t want you hurt.”

Her lovely face turned serious. “Chandler, may I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Will you make love to me?”

Anything but that!

Chandler’s chest tightened at her words. Surely she didn’t know what she was saying. It was best to keep the evening playful. He was far too aware of how much he wanted her to allow the evening to turn serious.

“Let me look at that cut on your head again. I fear it’s worse than I thought.” He pretended to examine the cut more closely.

Millicent reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You said you would do anything,” she reminded him, looking as serious as he had ever seen her.

His smile faded. “Anything except that. You are a lady of quality, Millicent. I wouldn’t change that. No matter how tempting your request.”

He took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on the table in front of them. It was a mistake to give her the strong drink. It had gone straight to her head and had her saying things she would never say otherwise.

“Time to take you home,” Chandler said.

She touched his arm and kept him from rising. “I am serious, Chandler. It’s not the bump on my head, or the brandy. It’s what I feel here inside my heart. I want to be yours tonight.”

His lower body immediately rose at her words. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice was so husky with anticipation he could hardly speak. Never in his wildest dreams did he think Millicent would offer herself to him. Even though he was light-headed at the thought of being inside her, he couldn’t accept. It wouldn’t be right to do that to her. She deserved to be pure on her wedding night.

Millicent picked up his hand and with both of hers placed it open-palm over her heart. She looked up at him with imploring eyes. “Feel how my heart beats for you.”

His throat ached to tell her yes. He had long felt unfulfilled. His body was rigid with desire for her, but all he could say was, “Millicent.”