by Anna Bennett
“I carried a bag? Good heavens, you might have thought to mention that pertinent detail a bit sooner. Did nothing inside provide a clue as to my identity?”
He casually opened the drawer in the table beside her bed, pulled out a scuffed leather satchel, and handed it to her.
The bag itself was unfamiliar, but it looked like something a messenger boy might carry. Tentatively, she opened the flap, peered inside, and found it empty, save for a few shillings and hairpins that jingled at the bottom. Nothing that hinted at who she might be.
“Please, continue with the story,” she urged. She held her breath, waiting to hear if the duke had defended her against the three thieves. She’d hoped she’d had the courage to stand up for herself but had to admit the idea of Nash rescuing her was rather, well, romantic.
“You resisted valiantly,” he said, “but you were outnumbered. I stepped in, and, regrettably, you were caught in the middle of a shoving match. When you fell, your cap flew off, your head hit the corner of a table, and you were knocked unconscious. No one in the tavern seemed to know who you were, so I brought you here.” He held his palms up as if that was all there was to say—as if he’d wrapped the tale up with a nice bow.
But Caroline had approximately two dozen questions still spinning through her mind. “You fought the men?”
He shrugged modestly. “You looked like a defenseless lad. I couldn’t let three brutes bully you.”
So, he had gone to battle for her. Her belly flipped. “And afterward, you carried me out of the tavern?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “To my curricle.”
“I see.” And she pieced together the rest of the evening. He’d brought her, a complete stranger, into his home. Remained at her bedside all through the night. Reassured and comforted her when she finally woke.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed the room had grown smaller and warmer. She set aside the bag and boldly reached for the duke’s hand, covering it with hers. “I am in your debt. For coming to my rescue at the tavern and for bringing me here.”
He flipped over his hand—his very large hand—and gently squeezed hers. Every hair on the back of her arm reacted, standing at attention. She swallowed, craving something more.
As though he were privy to her wanton thoughts, the duke brushed calloused fingertips across her palm, sending a sweet shiver through her body. Her nipples tightened, and she was suddenly very aware that she wore only a nightgown. A thin, white nightgown.
Without releasing her hand, he moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, his hip only inches from hers. “I’m no hero,” he said earnestly. His voice sounded unusually gruff and his eyes turned a darker shade of gold. “I behaved as any gentleman would have. You don’t owe me anything.”
“That’s what heroes invariably say,” she whispered. Without meaning to, she leaned toward him. Her heart thundered in her chest and her fingers itched to touch the slight stubble on his jaw.
“Caroline.” It was a plea and a warning.
At that moment, there was so much she didn’t know. Who she was. Where she came from. What tomorrow would bring.
But she did know one thing with utter clarity—she desperately wanted to kiss the duke.
Chapter 6
“Curiosity about carnal pleasures is perfectly natural, and—contrary to what your mama and headmistress may have led you to believe—nothing to be ashamed of.”
—The Debutante’s Revenge
Caroline lifted her hand to Nash’s face and slid her fingertip across his forehead, down his cheekbone, over to his mouth. By sheer force of will, he sat frozen beside her on the bed.
She was a young woman with no past and no identity—and, seeing as he’d shoved a man weighing approximately fifteen stones in her direction, he was partly to blame. More importantly, she was a guest in his house.
It was only natural that she’d feel some gratitude, but then, she didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know him.
And he knew even less about her.
He did know a few things, however. She’d tried valiantly to escape the thugs in the tavern. She was clever and courageous. And she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
Her gaze tracked the path of her finger as it skimmed across his lower lip and down his chin. “Nash,” she breathed. As though her desire matched his own.
A gentleman would bid her good night and leave.
A rogue would lock the door and seduce her.
He found himself lost somewhere between the two extremes.
“You’re recovering from a serious injury,” he managed.
“I’m feeling much improved.” She shifted so close, he could see the pale green flecks in her eyes and the spikes of her lashes. The citrusy fragrance of her hair tickled his nose, and it was all he could do not to spear his fingers through her thick curls and haul her head toward his.
“Anything we do cannot be undone,” he said, mostly to remind himself.
“That is true,” she said huskily. “What are you thinking of doing?”
He’d shock her if he mentioned half of what he wanted to do. “Kissing you.”
She tipped her forehead to his, and their breath mingled in the scant space between them. “I’m thinking of that too.”
Shit. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and slanted his mouth—
Knock. Nash pulled back just as the door creaked open. Caroline sat up straight.
“Good evening, miss.” Molly, Delilah’s maid, breezed into the room, quickly took in the scene, and averted her gaze. “Forgive me for intruding. I came to see if you’ll be needing anything before bed, miss.”
Caroline smoothed a curl behind her ear, quickly regaining her composure. “Actually, I wondered if you knew where my clothes might be. The ones I was wearing when I arrived here.”
“I believe they’re with the rest of the laundry,” Molly said brightly. “A footman is going to polish your boots too. Once everything is cleaned and dried, I’ll return your things to you. In the meantime, you must let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Caroline said. “You’ve been so kind. Everyone has.”
“I’ll leave so you can rest,” Nash said, standing. “I’ll be gone for much of the day tomorrow, but Delilah will be here. Dr. Cupton assured me he would stop by to check on you.”
“I’m sure I shall be fine. Thank you.”
“Sleep well.” He gave her a tight smile as he walked past Molly, out of the room, and away from temptation. He’d come perilously close to losing control. His intuition told him that kissing Caroline would be like stepping off a cliff. One taste of her lips would send him free-falling, and there’d be no stopping. He’d be gone.
The knowledge that any woman could affect him so was terrifying, but in Caroline’s case, it was doubly so. For all he knew, she’d already given her heart, body, and soul to another man.
If she woke up tomorrow with her memory intact, she might walk out Nash’s front door and never look back. The thought left him with an odd, hollow feeling—one he didn’t care to stop and analyze.
* * *
Delilah swept into Caroline’s bedchamber as a maid whisked her breakfast tray away.
“I’m glad to see your appetite has returned,” Delilah said, her sunny smile instantly brightening the room.
Having eaten nothing but broth the previous day, Caroline had devoured her eggs, ham, and toast. “I enjoyed every morsel,” she admitted.
“How did you sleep?” Delilah asked.
“Very well.” After Caroline’s near-kiss with Nash, she wouldn’t have believed it possible that she’d sleep so soundly—but she had.
“That’s good,” Delilah said cheerfully. “Rest is the best medicine, is it not?”
“I’m afraid I cannot agree.” Caroline heaved a sigh. “I think I’ll go mad if I remain in bed another day. Or even one more hour.” The grand four-poster bed had begun to feel like a prison cell.
Delilah winced. “You must be terribly bored. Why don’t I fetch some cards? Or a few books. We could even play chess, if you like.”
“May I be frightfully honest?” Caroline asked.
“Yes. I insist, actually.”
She shot Delilah a conspiratorial smile. “What I’d truly like is to stretch my legs and perhaps venture out of this room. Would you help me?”
“Let’s see. My brother would probably disapprove, and my common sense says we should consult with Dr. Cupton before doing anything so rash.” Delilah arched a mischievous brow. “Fortunately for you, I’m willing to ignore both Nash and my usual prudence.”
“Thank heaven.”
Delilah pressed an index finger to her pursed lips, thoughtful. “But you’ll need to wear more than a nightgown if you’re going to wander very far.”
“True.”
“And I feel certain we can improve upon the boys’ clothing you were wearing when you arrived here,” Delilah said, her blue eyes twinkling.
“You know about my disguise?”
“Of course I do.” Delilah smiled and glanced over her shoulder as she flung open the heavy curtains. “I’m the one who changed you into the nightgown.”
“Thank you for that.” Caroline threw off the bed linens, swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, and nudged herself forward till her feet touched the floor.
Delilah hurried to her side and slipped an arm behind her back. “Let’s take it slowly, shall we? A short turn about the room and then we’ll see how you feel.”
Caroline’s knees wobbled at first, and the bedroom floor tilted like a deck of a ship at sea. But, before long, the stiffness in her legs dissipated, and she walked from one side of the room to the other, feeling like a lioness pacing in her cage. “It’s a relief to know my body hasn’t completely failed me,” she said, “even if my mind has.”
Delilah clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Don’t fret. Your memory will return soon. I feel sure of it.” She took a step back, crossed her arms, and assessed Caroline from her wild tresses to her bare toes. “You’re rather petite, but I believe I have a few stylish gowns that will fit you.”
“I shall be grateful for anything you’re willing to loan me,” Caroline said, “stylish or not.”
Delilah placed her hands on her hips, the picture of determination. “By the time Molly and I finish with you, you shall be ready to glide into any ballroom.”
“I’d settle for being able to sit and read in a garden.”
“Do not vex me, Caroline,” she teased. “Or I shall toss you back into that bed and give you some of my embroidery projects to untangle. As I mentioned, I do not often have the chance to attend grand parties. However, I do have ample opportunity to study fashion plates.”
Caroline raised her hands in mock surrender. “Very well. I shall place myself in your capable hands.”
Delilah rubbed her palms together with relish and headed for the door. “I’m going to have a hot bath sent up. By the time you’ve dried off, I shall have a dress for you to try.” She paused at the threshold and faced Caroline, her expression curious. “Do you have a favorite color?”
It should have been the simplest of questions. As Caroline considered it, an image floated into her mind unbidden. A strikingly handsome face and eyes that shined like—
“Gold,” she said firmly. “Gold is my favorite color.”
* * *
Nash spent the better part of the day boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s, reading at his club, and generally avoiding his own damned house. All night long, he’d been haunted by the near-kiss in Caroline’s room. In his feverish dreams, they’d both been wild with passion. She’d whispered his name, laced her fingers through his hair, and pressed her lush curves against him. He’d plundered her mouth, hauled her nightgown over her head, and worshipped every inch of her body with his tongue.
It could have happened, if the maid hadn’t interrupted them—and that knowledge scared the hell out of him. As long as Caroline was living under his roof, he’d have to be very careful. Fortunately, he was something of an expert at avoidance.
He returned home near dusk, just in time for dinner, glad that he’d have a chance to talk with Delilah. She’d no doubt inform him of any developments where Caroline was concerned and how Dr. Cupton’s visit had gone. After dinner he would closet himself in his study until he was certain the entire household was asleep.
It seemed a fine plan.
Until he walked into the dining room and saw Caroline sitting at the table across from his sister.
The sleeves of her shimmering gown barely clung to her shoulders; the daring neckline skimmed the swells of her breasts. Most of her dark, thick hair was piled high on her head, but a few tantalizing curls cascaded down one side of her neck. Luminous green eyes rimmed with sooty lashes blinked up at him.
“So?” Delilah asked impatiently.
He snapped his gaze to his sister’s and frowned. “What have you done?” He was starting to have an inkling and didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Isn’t Caroline looking well?”
Looking well? That was a compliment reserved for a grandmamma sporting a new cap. Or for a spinster aunt after she’d managed to weather a particularly bad head cold.
Caroline, on the other hand, was a vision. She could bring a man to his knees and stir something deep and long-forgotten in his soul. Hell, she could make him break every damn promise he’d made to himself.
“You’ve made quite the recovery,” he said warily. “Yesterday you were confined to bed and sipping broth. Now you’re dressed for a ball.”
“I’m feeling much improved, Your Grace,” Caroline said.
Nash sank into his chair and took a healthy gulp of wine. “Am I to assume Dr. Cupton performed a thorough examination and declared you cured? That he gave his blessing for you to flit around the house without regard to your health?”
“No,” Caroline said, unapologetic. “But it’s torturous to lie in bed all day when one feels perfectly fine. And in my case, the more time I spend doing nothing, the more I dwell on the loss of my memory. I would have gone mad if Delilah hadn’t agreed to help me—which she did only because I insisted.”
“A head injury should not be taken lightly,” he said shortly, sawing the slice of roast on his plate with more force than was necessary.
“Dr. Cupton said a bit of exercise could be beneficial. Perhaps even speed her recovery.” His sister paused and sipped her turtle soup. “You must admit there’s a certain glow to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.”
He looked up from his plate at Caroline, luminous in a dazzling gown that might have been molded to her curves. If Nash didn’t know better, he’d think Aphrodite herself had waltzed into his dining room and taken a seat at his table. “I’m glad to know that her condition is marginally improved.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Caroline replied, clearly amused by his reaction.
He set down his fork and looked at her and Delilah earnestly. “All I ask is that you refrain from activities which could prove hazardous.”
“Oh dear, Caroline,” Delilah teased, “I fear we shall have to cancel the boxing lessons we had scheduled for tomorrow. And horseback riding in the countryside. I was so looking forward to jumping hedges with you.”
Nash didn’t mind that Delilah was having a little fun at his expense. But he did worry that she was far too cavalier about her own safety. “Perhaps you’d like to explore a cave by the sea while you’re at it?” he said dryly. “Or walk along the edge of some windblown cliffs?”
Delilah sipped her wine thoughtfully and cast a mischievous smile at Caroline. “I’ve no doubt we would enjoy those things.”
* * *
Goodness. Caroline twisted the napkin in her lap, wondering how to best calm the tempest that brewed, or if it was even possible. She also wondered if she had siblings of her own to squabble with—and rather hoped she did.
Delilah had treated Caroline like a sister, lending her everything she needed, from a corset to stockings to hair combs. But Nash had shown her kindness too. He’d taken her side in a tavern fight. Stayed with her all night and assured her she was safe. Held her hand like he never wanted to let it go.
She told herself it was best that they’d been interrupted last night. That even the briefest of kisses would have needlessly complicated her already complicated situation. But now, sitting across the dinner table from him, desire stirred in her belly once more. And even though they were in the company of his sister—Caroline’s friend—she stared at the hint of a scowl on his full lips. And wondered if she could kiss it away.
For the time being, she would have to settle for lightening the mood with conversation. She took a fortifying sip of wine and addressed Nash. “Delilah tells me you plan to escort her to a ball. Are you fond of dancing?”
Nash’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Not particularly. Are you?”
“I think so,” she said, intrigued by the question. “But it’s also possible that I’m hopelessly uncoordinated.”
“I cannot imagine that to be true,” Delilah piped up. “In fact, I think we should perform a trial of sorts after dinner. I’ll play the pianoforte while the two of you waltz. And if Caroline doesn’t know the steps, you may teach her.” She beamed, delighted at the prospect.
Nash leaned back from the table like a driver pulling on the reins. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
Probably not. But Caroline could already imagine his hard arms holding her, could already feel the warmth radiating from his amber gaze. “Are you afraid I’ll trample your boots, Your Grace?”
He smiled in spite of himself and threw up his hands. “Fine. We’ll waltz after dinner—or at least make a valiant attempt.” The crinkles around his eyes told Caroline that he didn’t dread the prospect nearly as much as he pretended to.
“Tell me more about your day,” he said, turning his attention to Delilah. “You’ve obviously been busy. Where did you find Caroline’s dress? It’s not one I’ve seen you wear.”