Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(77)

"Yes, ma'am," Mary said eagerly, disappearing on swift feet.

Grant's tone was soft as he spoke to Victoria. "Shall I carry you upstairs?"

Smiling, Victoria shook her head. She was so enmeshed in the tender warmth of his gaze that she was barely aware of the housekeeper leaving them. "Will you come to me after your bath?" she asked.

His face was expressionless, but his mouth was soft as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her temple. "No," he murmured so quietly that she could barely hear him.

Surprised, she drew back a few inches. "You won't?"

"You've endured enough for one day--you don't need a great rutting brute in your bed tonight."

Unable to restrain herself, Victoria reached out and hugged herself against his hard chest. "What if I want him there?"

"You need to sleep," he said firmly.

"Sleep is a waste of time."

A reluctant laugh rumbled in his throat, and slowly his arms came around her. She felt him breathe into the locks of hair above her ear. "That proves how exhausted you are. You don't know what you're saying."

"I do," Victoria insisted, not allowing him to push her away.

"Sweet pea..." Grant's voice was slightly strained. "It's been a hell of a trying day for me as well. I'm afraid if I visit you tonight..." He paused to search for the appropriate words. "I don't think I would have any..."

"Strength?" she supplied.

"Self-control."

"Oh." Victoria swallowed hard as she stared at his unfathomable face. "But if you--"

"Go," he muttered, easily prying her loose and turning her to face the stairs. He gave her a strong nudge. "I've been through too much, Victoria. I don't trust myself with you tonight. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Frowning, Victoria ascended the stairs, occasionally pausing to glance back at him. Grant waited until she had reached the top before he turned and went to the library in search of a much-needed brandy.

With the servants' help, Victoria washed and rinsed her hair twice, sighing in bliss as the hot water whisked away all traces of grime. The bath soaked away the soreness of her strained muscles, and warmed the deep-set chill from her bones. That and a cup of brandy-laced milk combined to relax her deeply. She dressed in a clean muslin night rail and premise that fastened up the front with a row of tiny peal buttons. Drowsily she sat before the fire as the servants carefully combed her damp hair and allowed the heat from the hearth to dry the crimson locks. "More milk?" Mrs. Buttons asked. "Or something to eat? A plate of toast, or a bowl of soup...an egg, perhaps--"

"Thank you, no." Victoria rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Understanding her weariness and her need for privacy, the housekeeper nodded to Mary, and they prepared to leave the room. "Ring for me if there is anything you need, Miss Devane," Mrs. Buttons said softly.

Eyes half closed, Victoria extended her bare feet toward the fire and watched the yellow light play upon her toes. She wondered if Grant had finished bathing, if perhaps he was already asleep in the guest room. She knew he would keep to his vow not to visit her tonight, having decided it was best for her to sleep. Undoubtedly he was right. But she needed to be with him, to be held and comforted, and to comfort him in return.

She had come close to dying this evening, barely a month after the first attempt on her life, and the realization made her desperate to savor every moment for the rest of her days. Sleep was indeed a waste of time...especially when the man she loved was only a room away.

Before Victoria had consciously made the decision, she was at the door of the guest suite. With fingers that trembled just a little, she turned the knob and entered the small antechamber that led to the bedroom. As in the master suite, a small fire on the grate spread ruddy flickering light over the room and made shadows dance in the corner.

And on the bed...What she beheld caused her to stop in her tracks, flustered, her heart pounding hard and heavy in her chest. Grant was stretched out on the guest bed, one foot dangling over the edge, one knee propped up slightly. He held a book in his hand, reading with a slight frown on his forehead and a moody set to his mouth. There was not a stitch of clothing anywhere in sight.

The firelight turned his skin a light shade of amber and scattered gold flecks throughout his shiny black hair. Every detail of his long, muscled body was visible, from the triangular hollow at the base of his throat, to the dusting of dark wiry hair on his legs. Amid a riot of excitement and confusion, Victoria wondered why it was that he seemed so much larger with his clothes off than on. She had never seen such a startling expanse of na**d skin.

Victoria knew she must have made some small sound, for his narrowed gaze switched to her, and automatically he covered his lap with the open book. The defensive gesture struck her as amusing, and his forbidding scowl only heightened the comic effect. Clamping her lips together, she repressed a sudden laugh and ventured farther into the room. "You shouldn't read in such bad light," she said, her voice cracking just a little. She was more nervous than she had realized. "You'll strain your eyes."

His frown deepened. "That's not the only thing I'll strain if you don't go back to your room."

Ignoring the command, she closed the door and approached the bed in cautious steps. "I'm not sleepy."