Her hands fluttered ineffectually, trying to shield her breasts and the dark triangle between her legs.
“You’re naked!” she choked, stating the bloody obvious.
Before Alex could apologize, she caught the edge of the blanket, whipped it across herself, and disappeared beneath the sheets in a flash of pale skin. She pulled them up over her head.
He suppressed a reluctant smile. He was entirely at ease, being naked, as were the women he usually slept with. They were unashamed, proud of their bodies, and rightly so. The female form was lovely. Infinitely variable, soft and curved, with intriguing dips and hollows.
Emmy Danvers, recent virgin, was clearly mortified. She was a muffled lump under the covers.
He found his breeches in a rumpled mess on the floor and shucked into them. “You can come out,” he said. “I’m decent.”
She made what sounded like a snort.
“I’m covered,” he amended dryly. He might never be decent. What he’d done to her had been decidedly indecent. His worry returned. “I need to look at you. Is there blood?”
“What?”
Her voice was muffled by the bedclothes. He fisted the top of the sheet and pulled it down to expose her head. Her hair was tousled, shielding her face.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked again. “Sometimes, the first time—”
The skin he could see—part of her cheek and neck—turned a delicious shade of pink.
“Oh! No. I don’t think so. That is, it hurt a little bit, at first, when you, ah—I’m fine. Really I am.”
Alex frowned down at her, unsure whether to believe her. With no other choice, he sighed and extinguished the lamp.
He wasn’t thinking clearly enough to question her now. He needed sleep. He considered locking her in here and going to sleep in Benedict’s old room, but he didn’t trust her not to attempt an escape if he left her alone. He couldn’t let his guard down around her for one instant. Ergo, he would have to stay in here with her until morning.
With a deep sigh, he stretched himself back down on the bed. Before she could utter an objection, he snagged the covers from her, joined her beneath them, and gathered her into his arms. She froze.
Her back was to him and her naked form nestled perfectly within his own. Her small bottom was cradled sweetly up against his groin, and the top of her head fitted perfectly beneath his chin. Her bare back warmed his chest as he dragged the scent of her hair deep into his lungs.
God, he loved the scent of her.
His uppermost arm was around her shoulders and he made a gargantuan effort to fold it over her without caving in to the near-irresistible urge to cup her breast in his hand.
Perhaps noticing that he was still wearing his breeches, or perhaps because she knew escape would be impossible, she softened a fraction.
“I’m a very light sleeper,” he warned. “I’ll know the minute you try to escape. Don’t even think it.”
She made no answer, and Alex felt himself relax. He was filled with a deep sense of contentment, and yet torn between his head and his heart.
Or was it between his head and his crotch? Was this just temporary lust blinding him? He’d been fooled by an innocent-looking face before. Could he take the shot to bring Emmy down? Could he see her dead, like that bomber in Spain? He might not have to pull the trigger himself this time, but the end result would be the same.
He frowned into the darkness. The situations weren’t the same. Emmy had never physically hurt anyone. She’d pose no danger to the public if she were free. Would he trust her word if she promised to never steal again? He wasn’t sure. But something was clearly compelling her to keep stealing, even faced with very real danger. As soon as it was light, he would make her explain.
* * *
Emmy lay still, cradled in Harland’s arms, hardly able to believe the way the night had unfolded. Being held like this, surrounded by his huge body, should have felt like an imprisonment, but instead, it felt like … safety.
She squeezed her eyes tightly. So wrong, to seek comfort from a man who could only bring her pain.
When she’d been younger, she’d dreamed of what it would be like to have Alexander Harland on her side—as an ally, not an adversary. He would make a wonderful partner, clever enough to scheme and plan. Strong enough to protect her from the Dantons of