What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(66)

“It’s the hail you hear.” He stood behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He was so close she caught the scent of sandalwood on him. “Better?” he said, his breath tickling her neck.

“Yes, thank you.”

His hands lingered a moment, and she was all too aware of him. She felt cherished for a moment as if he were her husband and she were his wife. It made her a little sad to think that she might never know such a simple, comforting gesture ever again.

“I looked out from the master chamber,” Colin said, his mind clearly on the storm. “Water is already standing on the grounds. I walked through the bedchambers and didn’t see any leaks from the windows.”

“That is good news. I’m glad we arrived before the storm hit.”

“I’m glad Mr. and Mrs. Faraday left before the storm got worse. Otherwise, we’d be stuck with their company.”

“Perish the thought,” she said, laughing. “I wonder how long the storm will last.”

“Eventually, the rain will relent. We may have to wait a few hours until the roads dry a bit, but we’ll survive.”

“Indeed we will.” She crossed the room, kicked off her slippers, and curled her legs on the sofa.

His hands were on his hips. “You look quite comfortable.”

“It is unladylike, but I doubt you care.”

“I’m shocked,” he said, clutching his chest.

“Drink another glass of wine. That should cure you.”

“But nothing ever suits me,” he said.

They both laughed.

“Oh, my stars,” Angeline said. “You absolutely cannot let them purchase Sommerall.”

He sobered. “I’ve no say in it.”

He seemed to have forgotten he could marry her to prevent his father from selling. Perhaps he regretted having ever broached the subject of marriage but didn’t have the heart to tell her.

“I’ll cross that bridge soon enough,” he said.

“Are you worried?” she asked.

“Everything will come about, one way or the other.”

It was one of those statements meant to reassure someone but seldom ever did. She wasn’t encouraged at all. She suspected he was having second thoughts about marrying a woman with a past. While she’d spoken very plainly to him about what he might endure if he married her, he was a gentleman and unlikely to tell her if he was troubled. Now was the perfect opportunity to discuss the issues, but she put it off. Their last row had left her drained like a bloodletting.

He set the candle branch on the hearth where a tinderbox and spunks for transferring the fire were stored. “I promised you a fire.”

After he managed a spark, he removed his coat, squatted before the hearth, and applied the bellows. As the fire caught, the flames crackled.

His linen shirt stretched across his back as he worked. When he stood and applied a poker, she allowed herself to survey his long muscular legs. She recollected the sparse dark hair beneath his shirt and on his arms the day he’d wielded that ax. From what she knew of his reputation, she’d not expected to find him so fit, but evidently, he enjoyed fencing.

He set the poker aside and topped up their wineglasses.

When he joined her on the sofa, he sat close and handed her one.

She sipped it, and he smiled. “Your lips are red from the wine.”

“So are yours,” she said.

“Are you warm enough?” His voice was low and a little rough.

She nodded and found herself breathless as she looked at his full lower lip.

He laid his arm along the back of the sofa, and his hand was only inches from her shoulder. The tension inside of her wound up like a clock. She realized she was a tiny bit foxed and set the glass aside.

She walked to the window again and pushed the drapes aside, but the wavy glass combined with the relentless rain made it impossible to see anything.

“Angeline, you are restless.”

She regarded him over her shoulder. “I’m worried. It’s bad out there.”

“We’re safe here. We have food and drink. There’s a caddy of tea in the basket and a jug of water. I imagine there’s a kettle in the kitchen we can use. It may be several hours before the rain stops, but eventually the roads will dry enough for us to travel.”

“I’ll go to the kitchen and find a kettle.” She hurried downstairs and walked into the kitchen. After a few minutes, she located the kettle and a teapot. After a long search, she found a tray and placed the kettle, teapot, a strainer for the tea, and two cups on it. Pleased with her discoveries, Angeline walked back to the drawing room.


He met her halfway down the steps. “That tray is too heavy for you.”

“Thank you for the help,” she said, and followed him back to the drawing room.

She poured water from the jug into the kettle, and Colin set it on the hob in the fireplace. Afterward, she added tea leaves to the pot. Thunder boomed again, startling her. She pressed her hand to her heart. “That was fearsome.”

He smiled. A few minutes later, the kettle shrieked. He rescued it and poured the hot water in the pot. After he set the kettle back on the hob, he said, “Now all we need to do is wait for the tea to get dark.”

“A hot cup of tea is always welcome when it’s chilly.”