She intended to tell him exactly what she thought of his deceit. But as they passed a well-lit street, a gasp came out instead. Rhys had discarded his jacket near the end of the fight, and the light revealed a dark stain on his shirt. She fought for breath.
He had been stabbed after all, yet he’d ignored the injury and continued to fight.
What kind of life had he led that he could do such a thing? For the second time that week she wondered who he really was.
“You’re hurt.” She cursed the quaver in her voice.
He didn’t move or open his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“You’ve bled all over your shirt.”
“I’ll have someone see to it after you’ve been sent home.”
“Aren’t you taking me home now?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “No. We will go to my home first.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “We’ll use the back entrance. No one will see us.”
“Why?”
“I’m not in any condition to help you climb to your balcony.”
“I don’t need any help.”
He glared at her. “I will not discuss this further.” The carriage came to a stop. Rhys pushed himself up, a grimace on his face. Amanda offered to help him, but he refused her hand and leapt from the carriage without a sound.
When they reached the servants’ entrance, his valet opened the door before Rhys had a chance to knock. His face drew up when he saw Rhys, but he said nothing. He ushered them to the library. “May I bring you something to drink or perhaps some medical supplies?” Meadows asked when they were settled.
Rhys shook his head and waved his hand to dismiss the man. Meadows opened his mouth as if to say something else. Instead, he shook his head and turned to go.
Amanda wasn’t going to let Rhys play the stoic hero. “Meadows, please bring something to clean Mr. Stanton’s wound and some bandages.”
“Yes, miss.” The valet bowed in her direction.
“Damn insolent man,” Rhys muttered. He looked at Amanda with flames of anger in his eyes. “And you. You’re even worse. Why the hell didn’t you run for the hack when I told you to?”
Amanda said nothing, clenching her fists to keep angry words from exploding out of her mouth. She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of his deceit and demand to know why the men were after him and not her. But stupidly, she cared enough about him to want to see his wound tended before she started railing at him.
Rhys ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “Next time I go out, you will remain locked in your bedroom. I’ll tie you to the bed if I must to keep you there. What makes you so determined to put yourself in the greatest danger possible?”
She started to speak but he held up his hand. “No, please, don’t answer that.”
“You’re the one who got stabbed, not me.”
She knew that would provoke him, but she liked seeing color rush to his cheeks.
He’d grown frightfully pale.
The blue of his eyes turned to midnight. She’d never seen him look so intense before.
Her heart pounded against her chest. “I have sworn to protect you. If I die in the process, then so be it. If you die, then I have failed again.” His words sent shivers through Amanda. Why was he so willing to die for her? And what had he meant by failing again? She wanted to ask, but Meadows returned with the supplies she’d requested.
Rhys didn’t acknowledge his valet’s presence, but she thanked him and told him they had all they required for the moment. She knelt in front of Rhys, setting the tray of medical supplies on the floor beside her.
He grabbed her hand when she reached for his shirt, but she pulled free. “I’m going to see to your wound whether you like it or not. It will be easier on both of us if you cooperate.”
He let her go and leaned his head back against the chair. His body relaxed completely and for a moment she feared he’d fainted. She could think of no other reason he’d surrender so easily.
“Rhys?” she called tentatively.
He opened his eyes a bit. “Get on with it.” His voice was eerily calm.
Amanda considered her options. She was a bit daunted at the prospect of removing a man’s shirt. She’d undressed Rhys the night before in her dream, but they’d both been in the heat of passion. There was no heat now. He was cold and still, and his shirt was soaked with blood. Her hands shook from fear of what she would find underneath.
Pulling the shirt loose from his tight trousers proved harder than she’d expected.
After a few attempts, she’d still not gotten it free of his waistband. She didn’t want to hurt him, but the thought of loosening his trousers was more than she could manage. Why the devil couldn’t he be more helpful?
He opened his eyes and peeked at her. “Difficulties?” he asked with the closet thing to a smile she’d seen on his face all night.
“If you would simply lift your shirt, I would be able to clean the wound.”
“Yes, but you see, I don’t want you to clean the wound. I want to send you home so I can get some sleep.”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve seen how badly you are injured.”
“Then you are going to have to figure out how to do that on your own.” Amanda scowled. “You are the most insufferable, arrogant man I’ve ever met. I’m trying to help you though I don’t know why.” He lifted his hand and let his fingers trail down her cheek. “Perhaps you’ve grown more fond of me than you wished.”
A warm, languid feeling ran through her, and she sucked in her breath. How could she possibly be having such a reaction at a moment like this?
He smiled as if he knew exactly how she felt. “If I cooperate with you, will you promise to leave as soon as you are satisfied that I will survive?”
“Yes.”
“You lie so prettily.” His hands moved to the fastenings of his trousers.
Amanda stared. She wondered if he would strip completely in front of her and cursed herself for wanting him to.
She felt his gaze on her as he loosened his waistband and pulled the edge of his shirt from his trousers. She couldn’t decide which was worse, staring at the skin he exposed with his movements or meeting his knowing gaze.
He gasped, and she forgot about desire and awkwardness. He’d revealed the edge of a jagged cut. His shirt was stuck to it with dried blood.
“Stop!” She grabbed his hand, unable to watch him to peel the garment away. “Let me wet the fabric to loosen it.” She looked up as she said the words. For a moment vulnerability showed in his eyes. He quickly turned his head and nodded.
She selected a cloth from the tray and moistened it in the bowl of water. Then she squeezed it over the cut, soaking his shirt. He flinched and she pulled back, afraid she’d hurt him somehow.
“Go on. It’s damn cold, that’s all.”
She lifted the edge of the shirt. It wasn’t yet free, but it came away more easily. She slowly peeled the fabric away. Rhys growled and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
Using his other hand, he ripped the shirt away from the wound. His breath caught, but he quickly recovered. “It hurts a hell of a lot less if you go fast.” Amanda ignored him and examined the cut. It was several inches long and the edges were deeply red and raw. It must hurt like hell, though it wasn’t as deep as she’d feared.
“I told you it wasn’t too bad. Now may I call for the carriage and send you home?”
“I’m not leaving until it’s clean and bandaged.”
“Meadows can take care of that.”
“You’ll tell him you’re fine and dismiss him as soon as I’m gone.” Rhys sighed and leaned his head back again.
Amanda bathed the cut with the wet cloth, being sure to remove all the dried blood and bits of fabric. “Do you think it needs to be stitched?”
“No,” he said sharply.
“How can you be sure?”
“I’ve been stitched before. I know.”
&nbs
p; She decided not to argue. So she took the roll of bandages and the scissors and cut a piece the right size. “Wash it with whiskey first.”
“What?”
“Get the decanter of whiskey and pour some of it on the wound. The alcohol will lesson the chance of fever setting in.”
Amanda did as he asked. When the liquid made contact with his cut, Rhys gripped the edge of the chair. His face turned white.
Amanda grimaced. “I guess that stings.”
“Bloody hell. Of course it stings. Now bandage me and leave me in peace.” Amanda cut the bandage. She had to lift his shirt to put it in place. As she did, she exposed a long, jagged scar that traveled the length of his ribs. Without realizing what she was doing, she stretched out her fingers to trace the rippled skin.
“When did this happen?” she asked, her voice less steady than she’d intended.
Rhys shook his head. “I don’t wish to discuss it.” His tone was cold, and Amanda chose not to push him further. She placed a bandage over the wound. Then she wrapped a strip of cloth around his chest to hold it in place.
She hoped Rhys was right and the cut didn’t need stitching.
As she knotted the bandage to secure it, Rhys surprised her by speaking. “Another beautiful woman once relied on my protection. I failed her. I bear that scar as a symbol of my failure and my resolution never to let anyone I care about be hurt again.” Shock forced Amanda to sit back on her knees. Questions whirled in her head. Who was this woman? Why had he been asked to protect her? She could no longer pretend Rhys was nothing more than a rake who wanted to find a way into her bed. Cassandra
had told her there was more to him than Amanda knew. Now she needed to find out how much more.
“I suppose you’ll be even more reluctant to trust me now.” Rhys leaned back and exhaled loudly.
“I’ve always believed in your ability to protect me, just not in your ability to behave like a gentleman.”
Rhys gave a bitter laugh. “You’d be right to expect failure in both areas.” Amanda scowled, angry at his low opinion of himself. “No, I don’t think I would.” He opened his eyes, and his gaze locked with hers. Amanda saw pain, anger and vulnerability. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to comfort him, no matter what he’d done in the past, no matter how angry she was with him for deceiving her.
Desire flared within her. Rhys pushed himself up and leaned forward until their faces were inches apart. The pain in his eyes turned to hunger.
Amanda took a shaky breath. “You’ve already had your chance at seduction for today.”
He smiled. “Then it’s your turn to seduce me.” Amanda traced the line of Rhys’s lips with her finger. He groaned and closed his eyes. She feared she was making a huge mistake, but no force on earth could stop her.
She leaned forward, replacing her finger with her tongue. Slowly and thoroughly, she licked his lips, reveling in their texture. They were the only part of him that was soft and pliable.
Her hands slipped under the edge of his shirt and she rested them on the hard muscles of his abdomen. Careful not to disturb his wound, she slid her hands upward, feeling his chest, enjoying the tactile sensation of hard muscle and raspy hair. He reached for the bottom of his shirt and stripped it off, only letting his lips leave for the brief second when the fabric slid between them.
She parted his lips with her tongue. The slick warmth of his mouth combined with the wicked feel of his naked torso made her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her, kneading her back. She swayed with dizziness. He’d let her control things thus far, but
his aggression was growing, simmering. She wanted to surrender to it and let him take her where he would.
Instead she held onto herself, wanting to explore while she dared. Her lips slid from his and brushed along the side of his throat. He groaned and tugged at the man’s shirt she wore, releasing it from her breeches. His fingers slipped underneath the linen and worked at loosening the strip of silk that bound her breasts. The feel of his hands on her skin overpowered her. She could no longer retain control of her thoughts or keep her needs separate from his.
She tasted the curve of his neck and continued her exploration across his collarbone and his chest. She knew she was fast approaching the point of no return. But she was hot, reckless and needy. She never considered trying to stop. She wanted everything Rhys could give her, and she wanted it right then.
He slid off the sofa, letting his weight carry both of them to the floor. He supported himself on his hands, hanging over Amanda and allowing her to continue her exploration.
She wondered whether his flat nipples would be sensitive like hers. She swirled her tongue over one. He flinched and emitted a low growl. Testing the other one, she felt it harden under her tongue. On instinct, she pulled it into her mouth and bit down lightly.
“Amanda, please.” His voice was strangled.
She giggled, delighted in her power, and scooted her body downward so she could kiss the skin that stretched taut over his abdomen. As she neared the waistband of his pants, she longed to reach up and touch that most male part of him, but despite her daring, she couldn’t make herself do it. When she nipped at the skin of his waist, he groaned and writhed against her. She gripped his hips with both hands, but he pulled away.
He slid down her body, and her legs opened of their own accord. She barely suppressed a moan as his arousal pressed against the place where she grew hotter and needier every minute.
She looked into his eyes and felt her cheeks heat. She started to speak, to ask what she should do next, but he silenced her with a finger against her lips.
“No talking. It’s my turn now.”
She closed her eyes as his mouth descended to her throat. His tongue caressed the skin under her chin then stroked back and forth, up and down her neck. Her hips thrust upward despite her efforts to keep them still. Rhys pressed downward to meet them. She moaned and whispered his name, desperation in her voice.
He laughed softly. “I’ll give you what you need,” he whispered against her skin as his lips traveled lower. He gathered her shirt in his hands. “Lift yourself,” he urged as he tugged the garment upward. He made quick work of her shirt and the cloth that bound her breasts, leaving her naked to the waist.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured as he lowered himself on top of her.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his skin on hers. When his lips made contact with her nipple, she jerked in surprise, seared by the stimulation. He suckled her, drawing the stiff peak into his mouth. Lines of fire seemed to run from her breast to the juncture of her thighs where a storm of need seemed to be gathering.
The pleasure was so acute it bordered on pain. She didn’t think she could stand more, yet she never wanted it to stop. Her hips rose and fell rhythmically, and she thrust her hands into Rhys’s hair, holding his head to her. The harder he sucked, the more she writhed. Sensation built inside her and she feared her body would catch fire.
Rhys knew the situation was quickly spinning out of control. He fought for the ability to stop and failed. Instead, he trailed his tongue down the smooth, satiny skin of Amanda’s stomach while his hands worked the buttons of her breeches, opening them as he nipped at the skin below her waist. She moaned and tugged at his head, trying to pull him back to her breast.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Lift your hips for me.” She did as he asked, and he pulled the breeches down her legs and tossed them aside.
She lay before him utterly naked. He bit his lip to hold in a moan. He’d dreamed of seeing her like this for months, and now he knew she was as beautiful as he’d imagined.
But even with her body’s charms exposed, she called to something deep inside him, something that had nothing to do with lust, something he’d do better to ignore.
For now at least, she was his. No other man had seen what his eyes feasted on. I’ll kill any man who does. Frightened by the intensity of his feelings, he pushed that shocking thought t
o the back of his mind.
He straddled her and leaned forward, teasing her by kissing and licking all around her nipple but never once touching it. His hand caressed the inside of her thigh, moving ever closer to the heat he longed to touch.
Finally, he closed his mouth over her nipple just as his hand reached the juncture of her thighs. She screamed from the dual sensation of his mouth and his finger pressing into her.
She was so wet, he slid into her easily. The urge to take off his trousers and take her fully nearly overwhelmed him. He forced himself to concentrate on her pleasure, to enjoy the little whimpers and cries that came from her lips as he drew his finger in and out. He was going to bring her to ecstasy, but he knew he couldn’t let himself go any further.
He let go of her breast and sat back on his heels, wanting to see her face. She’d closed her eyes, and a pink flush covered her face and neck. He slipped a second finger into her and watched as she bit down on her bottom lip, tossing her head from side to side.
Once she’d adjusted to this new, fuller sensation, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her clitoris. She jerked upward, thrusting her hips against his hand and taking his fingers even deeper.
He kept up his rhythm, caressing her while her hips pumped against him. Her eyes flew open. “Rhys, please.”
“Please, what?” He smiled down at her.
“I…I don’t know.”
He curled his finger up as he stroked her. She made a strangled cry as she reached her peak. Her internal muscles clamped down, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her hips jerked violently.
When her tight muscles relaxed and she lay still except for the shaky rise and fall of her chest, Rhys pulled back. He was close to losing control, but he hadn’t the strength to lift himself from the carpet. He lowered his head into his hands as he fought to slow his breathing. No matter how hard he tried, all he could think about was his cock. He felt big and hard enough to rip the seams from his pants.
A Persistant Attraction Page 9
