Scoundrel of My Heart (Once Upon a Dukedom #1) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,64

me to aid in the healing. It’ll be easier for me to apply.”

She waited as the debate he waged with himself was evident in the tightening of that luscious mouth of his, the narrowing of those beautiful eyes. Did he worry that this time he might initiate a kiss, one that shouldn’t happen? Did he recognize that knowing what shouldn’t happen didn’t necessarily stop it from happening?

“I’ll behave,” she offered.

He laughed, only a quick burst of sound, but it was enough to warm her to her core, enough to let her know that she was on the right track regarding his concerns. Kingsland never made her feel as though he struggled not to touch her, not to have a taste of her. Since their last night at the theater, he’d kissed her a few more times, but they had all been polite, gentlemanly sorts of encounters. She was discovering she preferred the kiss of a scoundrel.

A smile was still playing over his lips as he approached. “Where do you want me? The chair?”

“The bed.” He went still, his eyes heating with passion and promise that had her rushing to explain. “The chair is too small.” Too bulky with its thickly upholstered back and arms. “I won’t be able to work around you as I need to.”

He eased onto the bed, sitting at its edge. “Be quick about it.”

His hands clutched his thighs in the same manner they’d gripped his arms the first night she’d gone to his club. She shouldn’t have taken satisfaction in the knowledge that he wanted her. Or perhaps she had the wrong of it, and he was simply preparing to deal with the pain that might result from her tending to his wound. But she intended to be gentle, careful. She couldn’t bear the thought of causing him any agony.

Using the scissors, she cut off the knot the doctor had made to secure the bandage that he’d wrapped around Griff’s torso. She unwound the linen, passing it off from hand to hand as she circled him, aware of his not breathing, of his holding so still he might as well have been a statue. Occasionally she misjudged and her knuckles skimmed over flesh she’d washed the night before. Grooves along his ribs she’d outlined after he’d gone to sleep, muscles roped along his arms that she’d explored. The laudanum had taken him under, and she’d touched him in ways she shouldn’t, curiosity getting the better of her, as she investigated this man who had filled out during the months he’d been in exile.

The sheet had been gathered at his waist, and she’d used it as a barrier to the forbidden, hadn’t investigated what she’d averted her gaze from seeing as she’d helped him disrobe. But his arms and chest had been as mysterious and wondrous to her questing fingers. She’d continued to trail them over him after she’d crawled onto the bed and nestled up against him, because she couldn’t stand the notion of facing the demons who would surely haunt her. But they’d not come. Instinctually, he’d held her tight and kept them at bay.

Finished with her chore, she set the old linens aside and appreciated the flatness of his stomach, the broadness of his chest. His wound was long, red, and angry, the stitches making it look even more ghastly. He would be left with a scar. Kneeling, she pressed her fingers to it. He took in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but I have to check for putrefaction. The doctor showed me how.”

“Good thing you were there. I don’t recall any of that.”

With the warm water, she cleaned around the wound, gently removing any blood that remained. After reaching for the salve, she dipped some out and smoothed it over the line of stitches. He sucked in his breath, his gut, and she didn’t think it was because she’d hurt him. She didn’t want to stop touching him, wanted to touch more of him. She needed to distract them both. “May I ask you a question?”

“That never bodes well,” he said. “When someone asks if they can ask a question. You can ask all the questions you like. Whether or not I’ll answer them is another thing entirely.”

“What happened when you were arrested?”

His jaw clenched, but he stared straight ahead, as though the memories were playing out before him on a stage. “At first, we were confused, disoriented, frightened. I was asleep when they arrived and dragged me from my