The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,6
nodded, realising this was his first lucid moment since he’d arrived. No wonder he was disorientated. “I am.”
“Livvy,” he repeated, and passed out.
His grip loosened on her wrist. She tugged herself free and let out a shaky breath. Well, that was what she got for playing the good Samaritan. She ought not be here at all, alone in a room with such a man. Yet their one and only maid would not come near him, Gelly had no time, and Spargo was helping one of the tenants repair yet another hole in the roof. They were paying the tenant with two of their spring lambs. It was a good exchange, though still more they could afford, yet it had to be done before the entire west wing collapsed. Oh, and Charlie… Charlie was walking with Ceci in the garden because his beloved looked peaked this morning and needed some air. That Charlie had brought Lord Kingston here in a fit of human charity was one thing, but actually dealing with the result of that kindness was something he’d not have given a second thought. Hardly anything new there. No, she scolded herself, she would not be bitter and mean-spirited. There was a job that needed doing and she’d done it because no one else would
At least Kingston was sleeping now, and a little more peacefully than before. Livvy reached over and straightened his covers, tucking them in and trying not to notice his powerful chest as she did so. They’d not bothered trying to wrestle him into a nightshirt. On their first attempt he’d given Spargo a black eye, and Livvy had proclaimed that quite enough of an effort to make the man decent. He was clearly beyond saving, and she doubted very much it would be the first time he’d slept in the altogether. A wicked corner of her mind could not help but be pleased about it, though. She was resigned to the fact she would never marry, but she took no pleasure in it. So what if her curious brain was gratified to see what a naked man looked like in the flesh? One that wasn’t her brother, anyway, and she’d not seen him since he was a young man, skinny dipping. It wasn’t as if she’d have another chance, either. Still, she wasn’t so lost to propriety as to peek beneath the bedcovers, and she’d turned her back when her brother and Spargo had removed the man’s breeches. He might have no sense of decency, but she did, and she’d not invade a man’s privacy in such a way when he was out of his senses. Besides, if even a fraction of the rumours about the man were true, he’d show her himself with very little encouragement. That thought made her cheeks burn, and she hurried from his bedchamber as fast as she could.
King peeled back one wary eyelid. He thought perhaps he was still alive, but wasn’t about to put money on it, if they even had such a thing as coin in the hereafter. Then again, if he was dead, he would likely be roasting over some fiery pit and, whilst he certainly felt ghastly enough to be dead, he was cold. Shivering, in fact.
He jolted as the door to his chamber opened, the sound like a bullet to his brain. Except this wasn’t his bedchamber. Uncertain of where he was or with whom, he closed his eye again and played dead. Facing anyone right at this moment did not appeal. Hopefully it was just a maid to see to the fire or, better yet, his valet. Come to think of it, where was his bloody valet? The least the devil could do was bring him a drink, for he needed one so badly he was trembling with it... or was that the cold? Both, he decided. This room was like a bloody icebox, and he needed a brandy.
Soft footsteps padded towards the window and King slitted open his eyes again to investigate, and cursed as a figure flung back the curtains. He had a fleeting impression of a female form before the light seared his eyeballs and forced him to look away. The evil fiend who tortured him then compounded their efforts by opening the bloody window.
“S-Shut the d-damned window and close the c-curtains,” he stammered to whatever witless maid had dared do such an idiotic thing, infuriated by how weak and feeble he sounded.