was just hanging limp between his thighs, aching for her touch. Well, not so limp now. The mere thought of her touching him was arousing. But he kept quiet because his thoughts were crude and would offend her again. He just needed to piss into the pot and get back in bed.
He watched her attempt to calculate this scientifically.
Warmth flooded through him, loving that innocence about her. She was trying to figure out the angle of his projection, assuming he remained seated on his bed. Then she moved her chair and set it beside his bed and placed the chamber pot atop the seat. “I think it will be easier for you if you stand.”
“I think we ought to consult with Sir Isaac Newton on this. Laws of gravity. Angles of projection. We must also take into account that I could fall if I am standing up.”
She stopped studying the situation and began to laugh. “Don’t mock me. I’ll be the one who’ll have to clean up your mess.”
“Just leave me to it, Genalynn. I’ll figure it out for myself. You’d better go now.”
She nodded and scurried out of the room.
Although it wasn’t easy, he managed to attend to this necessity. There was a ewer and basin on the small table beside his bed. There was also a washcloth and soap she must have been using to keep him clean. He inched over to the table, relieved to find the ewer filled with water. He poured a little into the basin, washed his hands and face, then fell back into bed with a grunt. Remembering himself, he drew the sheet over him to cover the lower part of his body. “I’m decent,” he called out.
Throck walked in.
“Where’s Lady Genalynn?” Gideon tried to stem his disappointment.
As usual, Throck did not feel the slightest inclination to respond.
“Throck, what’s going on?” The hulking man was coming toward him with a grim look on his face.
“I have to hide you.” He pointed to the window.
Then he realized what Genalynn and Throck were fretting about. He heard riders thundering into the courtyard. “Give me a weapon.”
“No weapons.”
“Then give me my clothes.”
“No clothes.”
“Then how am I to fight them?”
“No fighting.”
He picked up Gideon, once again with as much effort as picking up a shell along the beach. “Lord Almighty! At least let me wrap the blanket around myself. I’m naked!”
Throck told him to shut up.
He carried him into what had to be Genalynn’s chamber and deposited him in a secret room behind a wall. “I’ll freeze my arse off in here.”
The secret room was more the size of a closet. The floor was of stone and cold as ice. He really would freeze if left in here too long. “Throck, I’m begging you. At least a blanket.”
“Shut up. Sound carries. If they hurt Lady Genalynn, I’ll come up here and kill you. Is there something about this you do not understand?”
Chapter 5
Genalynn tried to keep calm as her uncle and his men approached the dowager house. She stood in the doorway, not bothering to hide her displeasure. She hoped to stall them long enough for Throck to remove the sheets from Mr. Croft’s bed and all sign he was ever present. They’d decided not to put out the fire since there wasn’t time. She’d left her sewing basket in the room, and if pressed would simply say she’d been sewing in there because it was the best place to catch the morning sun.
She hoped her excuse would pass muster. It was the best she could do. “To what do I owe this visit, my lord?”
“Ah, so formal. We’re family, Genalynn. Will you not call me Uncle Randall?” He nudged her aside and entered the house, his gaze immediately scanning the entry hall.
She remained in place, trying to appear casual while he circled the entry like a lion on the prowl. “You don’t like me and I don’t like you, so let’s just skip the pretense. Why are you here?”
“Very well. It is a waste of time, isn’t it?” He motioned for his men to follow him in. Genalynn scowled at them, for they were all vermin who would kill their grandmothers for a ha’penny. “Where is he, Genalynn?”
She pretended not to know who he was talking about. “Are you looking for someone? You know I don’t encourage visitors.”
Her uncle ignored her. “Search the place,” he ordered his men.
She ran to the drawing room and grabbed the claymore hanging over the hearth. The sword was monstrously heavy