The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,43

It took her a moment to realise King had put his arms about her. She had never been a part of a team. It had always been her, by herself. Oh, there were the children, who were always on her side, except for when she was trying her best to instil discipline and they were cross with her. But the few friends she’d grown up with had long since married and moved away, and anyone else her age in the area had their own family and children. She was always at odds with her brother and Ceci barely distinguished between her and Gelly most of the time. Of late, her sister-in-law vacillated between seeing her as an unpaid governess or a drain on the family coffers when she refused to do the sensible thing and marry Mr Skewes.

The last remaining bit of spine she had wilted under King’s caressing hand, and she leaned into him with a sigh.

“There,” he said, and this time he didn’t sound the least bit smug, only content. “That’s comfy, isn’t it?”

“Mmmm, marvellous,” she said. “You are even more comfortable than my bed.”

“I am at your service.” His voice had gone all deep and gravelly and she didn’t doubt it was the tone he used for seduction, but it only made her smile. “Are you going to sleep?”

There was a hint of outrage in the demand.

“Hmmm? Oh, no. Just… just resting my eyes.”

“Miss Penrose, you are in the arms of a notorious rake and libertine. Your virtue is in grave peril.”

“Is it?” Livvy replied, smothering a yawn. “That’s nice.”

“Livvy! You ought to be flustered and breathless, drat you. I swear you are the most unnatural female.”

“It’s true. I am. I’m so sorry, King. It’s not your fault, though, so don’t feel bad. Only it’s been a dreadfully long day and… and you have the most splendid shoulders and you’re so warm and cosy. I can’t think when I have ever felt so… so… snug.”

Livvy sighed, wondering why it was she felt so at peace. The little voice of her conscience yelled at her, but it was so faint and annoying it was hardly worth the trouble of paying attention to it.

Chapter Nine

Almost the 10th December 1818.

Dogs, crows, pegos and cravats, plus a terrifying suspicion.

King glowered at the woman in his arms. Well! The nerve of the creature. Here he was primed for a little jaunt down the road to perdition with a pleasurable detour via the abyss and a look in at damnation, and the blasted creature used him as a pillow.

“Snug,” he muttered wrathfully. “Your maiden aunt’s shawl is snug. The King of Sin is not snug, damn you.”

“Hmm?” Livvy murmured sleepily. Her hand came up to his neck and she wriggled closer, her warm breath fluttering against his skin.

“Nothing, love,” he murmured, frowning down at her. There was a peculiar sensation in his chest. Most likely the calves’ feet kicking at his innards. “Go to sleep.”

She sighed, and the gust of damp warmth stirred the attention of his flesh, already awakened by the proximity of a lovely female arse in his lap.

“Stand down,” he grumbled. “We’ll go to perdition another night. The wooden hill to Bedfordshire is as far as we are getting, it seems.”

Bedfordshire. He snorted inwardly. Bloody Bedlam, more like. What the devil was he playing at? Had he just arranged to rifle her sister-in-law’s wardrobe with her? For it very much sounded like he had. He must have taken leave of his senses. Yet then his senses remembered the girl asleep in his lap, her head upon his shoulder, her rather sharp features serene in repose, sweet and trusting. Trusting in him. Good God. Livvy might think she was up to all the tricks, and beyond falling for his particular brand of wickedness, but she did not understand. She was too delicious, all spiky on the outside, but once you navigated past those thorns….

Oh, hell. He was in a world of trouble.

Though he could not for the life of him fathom why, he stayed until dawn. His neck ached and left leg went to sleep sometime after midnight, which was more than the rest of him managed, but… but he was too tired to move. Besides, he’d only wake Miss Prickly Penrose, and she’d probably shriek on finding him still there and wake the house, and then they’d all be in the basket. That was what he told himself. When he finally moved, she didn’t wake, though. She barely stirred and