across the chair by the fire, as well as her thin evening shoes. She could leave in those.
She held on to the bed as she tried her bad ankle. It was tightly taped, with a rod of wood to give her further support, and she managed relatively well once she got her balance. She let go of the bed and limped toward the chair and her discarded cloak.
He was frowning at her. “You’ll catch your death.” In a few quick strides he’d crossed the room. Before she realized what he intended he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her back on the bed, pulling the covers up around her before she had time to react. “Stay there while I build up the fire,” he ordered.
She started to push the covers away again, but he simply caught her shoulders and shoved her back onto the bed. “The next time you try to get out of the bed you’ll most likely regret it,” he said in a lowered voice. “At least, at first.”
The threat in his voice was sexual—she wasn’t so untried that she didn’t recognize it. Then again, everything about Benedick Rohan seemed that way. His words were cold and clipped, the expression in his dark green eyes was threatening, but the fingers on her shoulders were absently caressing, the thumbs rubbing against the tight muscles, unconsciously soothing her.
And then he released her, turning his back, and headed toward the fire. She watched with astonishment as he built it up with the expertise of a man accustomed to such menial tasks when most men would be helpless to accomplish anything so practical. The heat began to pour from the coal fire, and she realized she’d been shivering, holding her body tightly against the cool night air and her own fears.
Her fears hadn’t abated, but the room was filling with warmth, and he sat back on his heels, watching the flames with satisfaction. They threw his face into strange shadows, making him look half-satanic in the flickering firelight. He looked up at her then, a meditative expression on his face. “What in heaven’s name made you choose that nightdress for your first attempt at seduction?” he inquired lazily. “And your hair…”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” she said, offended. “This is what I wear to bed. This is how my maid does my hair so that it doesn’t get tangled when I sleep. I do realize that demimondaines wear filmy clothing, but I don’t really have any, and this is how most women dress for bed.”
“It is not, however, the way a woman dresses for her lover. If that’s what you wore with Wilfred then it’s little wonder he was a sad disappointment.”
She flinched. Of course she’d considered that possibility—that her lack of real beauty and feminine wiles had been responsible for the failure that was Wilfred. While she hadn’t communicated her uncertainties to Emma and the gaggle, they had made it quite clear that all a man really needed to enjoy himself was a naked, willing female, and she’d definitely been that. Well, not particularly naked, but most definitely willing, and she’d let him do what he wanted.
Which was disgusting. For some reason the same base acts didn’t seem nearly as foul when she thought of Rohan practicing them. And that had been her downfall. For the first time she’d considered sexual congress with a man and not felt ill, and she’d decided to act on that relative enthusiasm. Only to be summarily rejected.
“I’m certain the unpleasant nature of my time with Wilfred was entirely my fault,” she said in a cool voice as she drew the shattered bits of her self-esteem back around her like the cloak she longed for. “And you’ve made it very clear that you have no interest in me, but I’ve been too besotted to listen.” Damn, where did that word come from? She quickly went on, hoping he wouldn’t notice her slip. “You have made me see the error of my ways, and I promise I won’t suggest anything so untoward again. Now if you’d hand me my cloak I will cease to bother you.”
He rose, with that casual, lazy grace that caught her eyes every time, and he drew his neckcloth out and tossed it on the foot of the bed. “I am afraid, my pet, that you are doomed to bother me. And you’re going to have to convince me that you’ve changed your mind before I let you go.”