toward her, revealing a mess of stitches, and made a face. “I’m very much out of practice.”
“But it is a miracle.” She shut the door behind her and paused at her mother’s bedside.
Her mother scowled. “Whatever is the matter?”
Freya shouldn’t say. She couldn’t.
She flung herself down on the bed, her forehead landing on the soft mattress, her arms splayed beside her. “It’s a disaster,” she said against the blankets.
“What is, my love?” Her mother smoothed a hand over the back of her hair.
Freya twisted to view her, her cheek pressed against the soft fabric. “I like him, Mama. I really like him.”
Her mother gave a knowing nod. “I know you do, dear. I know.”
Chapter Seventeen
Guy jolted awake, gloomy darkness greeting his narrowed gaze. He listened for a moment, but his heart thudded too hard for him to hear anything. Rolling, he peered up at the wooden canopy above his bed until he could make out faint squares.
Damn it, now he was wide awake for no reason and he can’t have fallen asleep many hours ago.
He stilled. There it was again. A decidedly feminine cry. He bolted from his bed, sheets tangling around his bare legs. “Bloody...damn...stupid...thing...” He disentangled himself with an aggressive rip then shoved his legs into the breeches he’d discarded over the back of a chair the previous evening.
Barreling out of the door and into the hallway, he realized he hadn’t lit a candle and the hallway, with its lack of windows, was darker than his room. Still, he didn’t slow his pace and paid for it when he slammed his toe into a console table he should have known was close by.
“Bugger.”
One would think years of traversing this short hallway would be enough for one to know where a blasted table was.
“Lord Huntingdon?”
He spun to find Miss Haversham emerging from her mother’s room, a candle in one hand. Her loose hair curved around her nightgown, landing nearly to her hips, and her eyes were lidded and sleepy. He swallowed hard and gestured toward her door. “I thought...that is...” He frowned. “Did you hear a cry?”
She nodded. “My mother. A small nightmare but nothing terrible. She has settled now.”
“I see.” He drew in a lengthy breath. Why did his heart insist on pounding still? The suspected danger was gone.
Well, he supposed if one considered a fair-haired, sleepy woman dangerous, that would explain his racing heart that had seemed to jam itself up into his throat.
She lifted the candle a little and her eyes widened. He let his scowl deepen then noted the way her gaze travelled the length of him. His feet were cold on the wooden floors and he recalled his bare shoulders and torso. In his haste, he’d failed to throw on a shirt and he rather loathed sleeping fully clothed. A silly thing to do considering he had company.
Her lips parted.
Hell fire, there was the danger. In her wide eyes and sweet, slightly open mouth. It stirred his insides, making every inch of him tight and hot. Including his damned cock. If he wasn’t careful, he’d make a fool of himself. A big fool of himself. And she would run for the hills.
He forced himself to look beyond the pale outline of her figure toward the shadowy painting to the right of her. Great-great Aunt Edith. Hardly an attractive woman. Not to mention his aunt. Her long nose, practically invisible chin and beady eyes were a combination that not even the most talented painter could make look attractive.
“Lord Henleigh, is all well?” She moved to the right a little, directly into his line of sight.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. No ugly aunts would solve this situation. He needed to turn around immediately and return to bed. A simple task really. One that could be achieved with but a few mere footsteps. If he just twisted a little...
Guy stepped forward.
No, damn it, that was not how it was done.
Her gaze fell upon his chest again, and now he had closed the gap a little, he saw her chest rise and fall quite rapidly.
Very well, if he could not turn away himself, he could at least tell her to return to bed. That would be easy. Just utter the words.
“Bed.”
He winced. Now he sounded as though he was demanding to take her to bed. And now images assailed him. Her hair brushing her naked body. Then brushing his. The delicate breasts he could just make out beneath the fragile fabric of her nightgown filling