All About Seduction(82)

He held out his hand, but she ignored it and continued sitting in the chair by the fireplace. He might be willing, but she wasn’t sure he was fit enough for such vigorous activity.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t feel it much after the laudanum.”

She twisted the material of his nightshirt against her throat. His scent wafted off it, which was both comforting and frightening. They were friends. Friends helped each other. He would help her—she would help him.

“So, when is a good time for you to conceive?” His voice was coaxing, encouraging. But his eyelids were drooping and he looked tired.

“This week.” She bit her lip hard enough to taste the coppery flavor of blood.

“Good.” He unbuttoned his undershirt and stripped it off.

“You don’t have to undress . . .” Her voice trailed off as he shot her a skeptical look.

“I suppose that means you don’t intend to do more than lift your nightgown,” he said, sounding regretful.

His nightshirt. The insubstantial thing she had on underneath didn’t count. She twisted more material in her fingers and avoided looking at the indecent expanse of his chest and stomach. “I don’t see any reason it would be necessary.”

He shifted, removing his drawers under the coverlet, and cast her a half smile. “It doesn’t occur to you that I would like to look upon you, even if I cannot touch.”

As he worked his drawers over his cast, his naked hip peeked from below the coverlet, the flesh pale and smooth.

Caroline sprang out of the chair, went to the dressing room door, clicked it closed and turned the key. Not that she expected anyone to interrupt them here. Her chest squeezed and she knew she was near achieving her part of the bargain, or at least knowing a man, even if he wasn’t one of the designated gentlemen. Her shoulders knotted. She would have to relax to even allow the event to take place.

Wanting to escape, she returned to the chair by the fireplace and sat down gingerly. “Are you certain you’re strong enough? You are not completely healed.”

He twisted to reposition the pillows behind him, exposing one pale flank. Fighting an inexplicable need to stare at him, Caroline clenched her eyes shut, uncertain why she wanted to look upon his form.

“Then you should do the work,” he said.

Her eyes popped open. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t know how she could do the work. That was the man’s role. Her mind reeled through possibilities and rejected them all. A tremor passed down her spine and knotted her neck.

He slid down on the bed to his elbows, and the coverlet reached his waist, allowing her to draw a breath. His look turned questing. Jack seemed to be waiting, as if he thought she’d know how to manage to provide the motion.

Caroline found her nail in her teeth, a habit her governess had cured two decades ago. She deliberately dropped her hand. “I’m not certain I know how.”

“You should mount me, sweetheart.” His mouth flattened. “It will give you control of how much we do touch.”

She thought about protesting his term of endearment, but she supposed it was just something to call her rather than ma’am or Mrs. Broadhurst. “Are you certain that would work?”

Never had she considered that she could be on top. And the idea of being in control of their encounter made her shake. She had never been more than a passive participant. Always when Mr. Broadhurst mounted her, she’d lay there as still as a church mouse, afraid to make a peep for fear he could actually rend her in two, as it always felt he was doing.

Yet, this with Jack was sounding all very clinical, like a doctor’s examination. But that was how she wanted it. Wasn’t it?

His mouth worked as if he were restraining a laugh. “Yes, it will work.”

She almost wanted to hit him. “I mean to get me with . . . child?”

“That’s what I meant.” Jack held out his hand and beckoned her. “My da’s been on his back for years and it hasn’t stopped Martha from conceiving.”

Shock that he knew such details of his father’s private life made her back feel as if a metal rod had landed against her spine.

“He injured his back some time ago,” said Jack, no doubt feeling she needed an explanation.

And his explanation didn’t mean he knew how his father and stepmother interacted, just that he could surmise it. Although, the workers’ houses were small and without much privacy.

“Are you ready?” he asked.