Baron of Bad: Lords of Scandal Book 5
Page 4
She let out a deep breath, the sort that told him she was drifting into a deep sleep. He relaxed back along the foot of the bed, taking one more swig of whisky before he set the bottle to the side. Then he leaned back against the wall, her feet pushing into his hip. He closed his eyes. He had no intention of sleeping, he just wanted to rest. Try to recover before the long day tomorrow.
There was little chance that Grace would ride in the carriage, and frankly, he didn’t blame her. But that did mean she was going to spend the day pressed to his side once again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it.
A clock bell dinged somewhere in the distance and he counted eleven chimes. He slid to the side so that his head was on the bed, and even though his feet hung off, he couldn’t complain. He’d meant it. When you’d slept on a cold stone step, this was quite comfortable.
He didn’t mean for it to happen but at some point, he drifted off into a light sleep.
He had no idea how much time had passed but it was pitch black when a whimpering sound woke him from his slumber. The room was dark and Bad struggled to see anything at all.
Another whimper filled the room and then a keening cry. He blinked trying to clear the fog from his brain. “Bad?” Grace called. “Bad. Are you there?”
“I’m here,” he answered but she didn’t respond, only whimpered again.
“Bad. Please. Please help me.”
Bloody hell, she was talking in her sleep and she was having a nightmare. He scooted up the bed, drawing his body along hers. “Grace, wake up. I’m here.”
“Bad,” she gave another strangled cry. “They’re coming for me. Please!”
“Grace,” he said more sharply, giving her a shake. “Wake up.”
She gasped out a breath and sat partially up. “Bad?” But this time his name was different, rather than a whimper it was a wary question.
“I’m here,” he said, holding out his arm to her. “I’m right here. I never left.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she cried as she flopped back onto the bed and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I thought I was alone with them again.”
He wrapped her in his arms, his nose and cheek pressed into that glorious mane of hair. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”
“Please,” she whimpered against his skin. “Stay with me.”
He breathed in her scent, even more potent from sleep. It occurred to him that he’d never shared a bed to actually slumber with a woman before. Notable since he’d bedded all the rest of them, making Grace different in every way. “Haven’t you learned yet that I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Even if that means chasing you halfway across England?”
She gave a hiccupping laugh then. The sort that made her entire body shudder. The covers dulled her curves but he could still feel them. “I’m very lucky,” she whispered. “To have a man named Bad as my rescuer.”
Her chin tilted up as her head tipped back. He leaned down to tell her thank you but before he could utter the words, her lips fumbled into his. It wasn’t the most artful kiss he’d ever experienced but raw passion crashed into him like a wave and he leaned down to take her lips again and then again, each touch only fueling the fire within.
She opened to him like a flower, her lips meeting his, wet and eager, her neck exposed as he trailed his fingers down the slender column. When she moaned, he nearly came undone. “Love,” he said, his voice sticking in his throat making it rough and craggy.
She wound her arms about his neck, pushing her breasts further into his chest. Dear lord, help him, this woman was made for a man’s attention. Every curve screamed to be touched. “Yes?” she asked. “What do you need from me?”
His eyes rolled back in his head. He needed her underneath him. He needed to tuck her away where no man could touch her ever. But she’d overcome her fear and even he realized she was clinging to him because she’d been so afraid, nothing more. “I need you to go back to sleep.”
“What?” she asked, pulling back a bit.
“Grace.” Every word hurt. “We’ll discuss this in the morning. Right now, you should sleep.”
“You’re joking,” she huffed, pulling her arms from his neck and propping up on one elbow.
He wasn’t. But he’d managed to irritate her again. “Your very first time with a man won’t be because you’ve had a bad dream. It will be because you’re in love or because you’ve decided to marry. Trust me. It’s better this way.”
She stared at him in the dark for several seconds before she finally laid her head back on the pillow. “Sometimes I hate you.”
He winced. He believed her.
Chapter Six
Grace woke to a dim light filtering into the room. A feeling of contentment filled her as she cracked one of her eyes open. Her body was encased in warmth despite the coolness of the air about her. She moved, stretching her toes only to realize that she was pressed against a solid wall.
But it couldn’t be a wall because it formed around her body and it was both hard and yet deliciously hot. A flood of memories filtered through her mind. Abernath, the tiny inn, the fact that Bad had rescued her and then rejected her advances last night.
Heat filled her cheeks. His name was Bad, for pity’s sake. The very first time she’d met him, now over a month ago, he and his friends had been waiting for women of the evening to arrive. He ran and owned a gaming hell. She wasn’t even tempting enough to seduce a man who’d made debauchery his entire life.
She nibbled at her lip. Of course, he didn’t want her. Other than being pretty, there was nothing special about her.
“Good morning,” Bad’s deep voice rumbled behind her and he tightened the arm about her midriff, pulling her closer. Well, that wasn’t really possible, he squished her even more to his front.
“Good morning,” she replied, giving a sniff at the end.
He stilled. “You’re still angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” she said staring straight ahead. “This is a completely normal and understandable interaction between a lady and a lord.”
He smiled. She felt it against the back of her head where his nose was nuzzled into her hair. “I’m still not used to being called a lord.”
“What?” she asked, turning back to him then. What did that mean? But she didn’t ask the rest of the question because she’d only just realized she was using his right arm as a pillow. His arm curled around her head brushing a few stray hairs away.
“My father was the younger son to the Baron of Baderness and apparently the black sheep of the family. When he married my mother, they left for London. I don’t know how they died but when they did, no one came looking for me.”
She gasped, her insides clenching and her hand rested on his chest. “I was four and I knew that my father was the son of the baron. I’m not sure how. But I told the woman who ran the orphanage so and she contacted my family. They still didn’t come.” He swallowed. “I learned later, she’d demanded money and they thought it some sort of swindle. She was so angry that she tossed me out of the home.”
“Bad,” she whispered, curling her fingers into his chest. Her own insides twisted and her stomach gave a heave thinking of a little boy tossed out on the streets all alone.
“My given name is Benjamin,” he whispered, his eyes meeting hers. “My mother called me Ben.”
“Ben.” Her other hand came up to cup his cheek. “What happened?”
“I slept in doorways, ran errands for a few pennies for food, survived by cunning and wit, I suppose until I was discovered by Monsieur LaFleur to join his fighting club. I was ten when I began training.”
Her throat had nearly closed as she stared up at him, tears stinging in her eyes. All the scars, the crooked nose. He’d been a fighter.
He looked down at her. “I was nineteen when I learned that I was the next male heir to the title.” He shook his head. “I may look like a lord now, love. But make no mistake, I’m a street urchin through and through.”
“I grew up thinking I was trash. Dropped and forgotten, unloved and unwanted even by my own family.” His face spasmed, pain in every line.
Grace didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know what to say. She lifted her head from his arm, looking into his dark eyes. “You grew up strong. I don’t blame you if you wish for a different childhood. What you went through is terrible. But it’s shaped you into a man who can single-handedly rescue a woman from a runaway carriage while being held captive by multiple villains.”
His eyebrows rose, the deep lines in his face easing. “Abernath wasn’t a real villain.”
Grace shrugged. “You might have me there. She had sores all over her palms and she talked as though she were mad.”
Ben drew her head down to the crook of his neck. “That actually frightens me more. I’m so glad you’re here and safe.”
“I’m glad too,” she answered, drawing in his sandalwood scent. There were moments when she felt closer to this man then any other person in England. But then she remembered. This conversation had begun because he’d rejected her last night. She eased out of his grasp. “I’m sure you’re eager to return me home.”
He searched her face, his hand coming to cup her cheek again. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. I’m mean, I’ve mentioned a few pieces but—”
His confession pulled at her heart. “Your secret is safe with me,” she answered. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re worthier than most to carry the title of lord.” She made to roll away and get out the bed but his hands held her firm.
“Do you really mean that?” he asked, his face pitted in deep lines once again as his fingers dug into her back. He held her now like he never wanted her to go. Which she knew wasn’t true. They did nothing but argue and he’d rejected her just a few hours ago. He didn’t want her and she’d be a fool to think he did.
* * *
Bad knew that he should let her go. But her words were the balm he hadn’t realized he’d needed. Slowly, carefully, she reached up, tracing several of the scars that pitted his face. “Every word,” she answered, giving him a small smile. “I’m not sure where I’d be right this very moment without you but I am forever in your debt.”
Debt? The word echoed about his brain as he released her and she rose from the bed. He watched her as she sat up, stretched, her back elongating in the prettiest way, her arms tossed over her head.
He knew exactly what he’d do with a man who owed him a debt. He’d collect. And what he wanted from Grace…well, despite his rejection last night, he knew exactly the way he’d like to collect.
His muscles tightened. He wasn’t just referring to sex. Though that was most certainly part of it. He thought back to the kisses they’d shared, she’d been so eager and pliant underneath him. But a man did not dally with a woman like Grace without understanding the full measure of consequences.
She began dressing and he lay his head down, unabashedly watching her. Her movements were nimble and filled with a natural grace that made him ache to touch her again. He should look away. It was the polite thing to do, but he didn’t want to and he was, after all, still a street urchin at heart, title or no.
Damn, he wanted to touch her. Pull her back into the bed and feel her body underneath his. His fingers dug into the blankets as she reached behind her to tighten her own corset strings. He should offer to help but he’d never complete the job. He’d end up stripping every piece of clothing from her body and kissing her from the tip of her toes all the way to her… He tried to control his errant thoughts.
“How long will it take us to get back?” She turned back to look at him and he tried to make his face a blank mask.
“Seven hours. Maybe eight unless the weather changes.” He sat up. He’d never in his life wanted to see rain more. How nice would it be to hold her in his arms another night?
She turned back to him again. “Does my family know I’m safe?”
Her family? He drew in a sharp breath. How had he not thought of her family until now? “I sent a message to Vice. He and Ada are also following us but I’d guess they were travelling at half the speed we were. Once he receives the message, he’ll send word to your parents.”
Grace gave a stiff nod as she picked up her crumpled dress. “Fitting that this is what I’ll wear back into London.”
“Why’s that?” he asked as he watched her shimmy the gown over her hips. They wiggled back and forth until the gown could pull over them. He raked his fingers through his hair, giving the strands several good tugs. Pain was the only solution to curb his desire.
She faced the window. “My humiliation will be complete.” Then she looked back at him. “Unless, of course, you agree to marry me.”
Bad’s mouth dropped open. “Marry you?” He’d already known this was a possibility. She could be ruined for this little adventure and she had no other options for a husband. But somehow hearing her say the words was different and if he’d taken advantage of her last night… Or rather, if she’d taken advantage of him. “Is that why you were trying to seduce me last night?”
Her gasp was the first indicator that he’d said something wrong. She flew around the bed, her gown still gaping off her front, then her hand whistled through the air as it landed with a crack on his face. “How dare you?” she shrieked loud enough to wake the dead.
She raised her hand again, but this time he refused to let her hit him. He caught the hand and then she attempted to hit him with the other, which he captured as well. She tried to yank away, twisting wildly and he was honestly afraid she might hurt herself. Giving her a tug, he easily brought her back on the bed where she commenced trying to kick him.
One landed on his shin and with a grunt, he rolled on top of her. Her head twisted back and forth as her cheeks grew increasingly pink. Rather than deter him, he found the sight rather arousing and when her head finally stopped, he dropped his forehead to hers. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”
She stared at him. “You’re a beast. You know that.”
“I do,” he answered.
Chapter Seven
The second the retort left his lips, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake. He’d just explained that he considered himself unworthy.
He deserved her anger. She’d kissed him last night, not because she’d been trying to trap him, but because she couldn’t help herself and it hurt to think he considered her a scheming female. How could he lump her with the likes of Abernath? “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he answered. Suddenly, he jumped off her, rising from the bed.
She gave a loud sniff. “It matters to me.” And she rose too. There was little room for him to leave and he started for the door. He wouldn’t actually leave her, would he? “Ben,” she choked out, fear strangling her voice.
He turned back. “Grace.”
“Don’t leave me again.” She reached for him then. “Please.”
He only hesitated a moment before he reached for her, pulling her back into his arms. “I won’t.”
“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you,” she whispered. In every interaction, they seemed to hurt one another, and Grace realized she was often attempting to protect herself. But somehow, that wasn’t working. They weren’t understanding one another. “I just find you to be…”
He leaned back. “What?”
She licked her lips, preparing herself to admit this out loud. “Difficult to resist.”
He quirked a brow. “That is encouraging.” Then he slowly backed up. “Get dressed. We’ll eat and leave within the hour.” Then he turned away to ready himself.
Grace frowned at his back. That was it? She’d admitted she was attract
ed to him and all he could say was that it was encouraging?
She shook her head.
Within the hour, they had, in fact, set off for London. Once again using Crusher’s coach, Grace had chosen the ride on the seat next to him rather than inside the carriage. She sat next to him in the cool morning air, with her arms wrapped about her waist. When they’d left after noon the day before, the air had been warm and sunny. And she’d hardly noticed the cold last night. But this morning, it seeped into her bones.
Hunching over, she resisted the urge to snuggle into Ben’s side. She knew he’d be radiating heat and comforting physically, of course. But what would she lose for giving him the satisfaction? Most likely, another comment that left her weak with disappointment.
He moved the reins to one hand and shrugged off his coat. He couldn’t be hot, could he? She glared at him, as if his very body temperature were set to insult her. Fortunately, she held her tongue as he dropped the coat around her shoulders. “You’re freezing.”
“Thank you,’ she murmured, pulling the jacket tight about her. “How’s your leg?”
“Fine,” he answered, grimacing at the rip in his pants. “But these were my favorite breeches.”
She gave a small smile as she reached out a hand from under his large coat to touch the tear. “I can mend them for you. My stitches are quite good. It’s one of the few things I am known for in my family.”
He looked to her. “What else are you known for?”
“I suppose being pretty.”
“You sound as though you don’t believe them.”
Grace watched the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves as they plodded down the road. “I don’t not believe them. I just don’t see what the advantage is. I mean, perhaps there are some. I get asked to dance at balls. Once, when I was a child, my father’s friend had gold pearls on his watch chain. When I exclaimed how beautiful they were, he chuckled and gave me one. My sisters were very jealous. When Emily asked why I’d gotten one and she hadn’t, my mother exclaimed, “Oh, Emily, try and understand, Grace is just lovely to look at.”