Tall, Hard and Trouble
Page 23
How could it when his strength rippled through her? “No.”
He slid his hands higher at her sides. “This?”
She shook her head and licked her lips. Oh, my. His thumbs rested beneath the wealth of her breasts. And her lower body flooded with a surging tide that had her blinking like a flustered debutante.
“Does it?”
“What?”
“Hurt?”
“No, no.”
His hands drifted higher and he pushed against the sides of her breasts so that they thrust forward like two ripe melons against the bodice of her gown. “This?”
“That?” She squeaked at him.
He glanced down, his thumbs a bare half inch from her nipples. His pressure was firm, but gentle.
Her heartbeat was fast, but insistent. Her mind went blank and then, her gaze met his.
“That doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asked, his bass voice, usually of such bold timbre that she could hear him in the hall, on the stairs or greeting her callers. But now his voice held only a fraction of its own resonance.
She considered his mouth. His wide, sculpted lips that spoke of order and precision.
“No,” she told him with as much normality as she could summon. “There is no pain.” But something else…
She put a hand to his and squeezed it. His skin was supple, hot and—
He dropped his hands.
She sagged. Her interlude was ended.
“You’ve not broken a rib. Thank God.”
“How do you know?” She searched his face.
“If you had, you would have screamed when I pressed your brea— your chest just now. You’ve badly bruised yourself in your fall.”
“Good to know. But…how do you know that?”
He shrugged. “My father was a medical man. Not trained. But helpful to the tenants in our village.”
She tipped her head, curious at his words. Often when he spoke, he seemed to be obtuse, his phrases veiled as if he were other than he was. Why did she think that?
“Here’s the maid,” he said to her as if she needed a reminder of where they were and what they were about. “Mabel, do go to the cellar and fetch us a bucket of ice. A few towels. Long strips of cloth to make bandage rolls.”
“Finnley,” Alicia said, her voice strange even to herself. “I don’t need ice.”
“You will. I saw you fall, my lady. If I hadn’t caught you, you would have hit your face. Broken your nose. Your teeth. Don’t be polite with me. I know that your knees must be bruised.”
“Do you think so?” she asked him in a daze. Was it the nearness of him or her injuries that fogged her brain? To break the spell, she wiggled, and yes, dammit, her knees did pain her. Her shins. Her arms, too.
“Allow me, madam.”
The next second, her butler of one month, this veritable mountain of a delicious man, had pushed up her skirts. They draped, bunched up like limp lettuce, over her thighs and her bare knees were quite throbbingly black and blue and very, very large.
She clamped a hand to her mouth and let out a whimper.
“Don’t worry, my dea— my lady,” he said. His hands cupped her calves, stroked her skin and soothed her worried mind. He winced at the sight of her injuries, then looked sideways at the maid. “Mabel! That ice bucket! Now!”
“Aye, Mr. Finnley.” She turned tail and sailed off.
My dear. Had he attempted to call her his dear? Alicia allowed her delight to curl her lips and to counter that, because it was not appropriate to grin at any endearments from one’s butler, she set her teeth.
“Let me unlace your boots.”
She didn’t answer. There was no need. In her heart, she agreed that he could and so why not enjoy the stroke of his hands on her calves and her ankles? The power of him as he tugged off, one by one, her dainty wet boots was soothing. The delicious release was tantalizing as he took her stocking feet in his hands and massaged her chilled and weary little toes.
“That’s wonderful,” she crooned, going with the pulse of his touch.
He made some gravelly noise in the base of his throat.
Yes. That was the way she felt, too. Primal.
“Ahem,” she said and sat taller in the chair…but only because she should.
“I’m afraid you are going to have a terrible time walking.” His eyes were on her bare knees. “We’ll take it slowly. Where is that girl with the ice?”
“She’ll come, Finnley. Don’t be impatient.”
“The longer we wait, my lady, the greater your disability.”
“Surely, you are mistaken. I can bend my kn—” She tried it and gasped. Then dropped her leg, her foot to the tile. “I stand…or rather, sit corrected.”
“You’ll be fine. Now let’s see.” He bent over her knees, his face so close his breath fanned her fevered, swollen skin. “I wonder if you’ve broken any bones. Shall I touch you?”
“Dear man,” she said much too quickly for propriety, “you already have!”
His cool eyes turned to blue flames. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I’m certain.”
“I’ll be brief.”
“Oh, don’t be.”
He tilted his head as if to ask precisely of what they spoke.
She cocked a brow at him, aware and unashamed of what they did speak. But she had to camouflage that, didn’t she? Propriety was such a dictator. “Do as you must, Finnley.”
He put his hands to one of her shins and pressed along her bone. She was tender but nothing stuck out as if it were broken. “I doubt you have suffered more than a bad bruise.”
“Thank you. I hope so.”
“Here is the maid,” he said to Alicia as tenderly as he touched her. But to Mabel, he barked, “Where have you been?”
“Had to go to the cellar, sir, to get ice. Had to break it up, too, I did.”
“Fine, fine.” He put his fingers to Alicia’s shin and she wanted to cry joyful tears at his exquisite finesse. Then he stood and stared down at her. “You’re going to bed.”
“A good idea.” She put her hands to the bench to stand and yelled out when she put pressure on her palms.
“Enough of that,” he said and scooped her up into his arms, heading for the grand staircase.
She surrendered to him. He was officious like any butler but his air of authority belied servitude. His very stance exuded power. His words demanded compliance…except when he looked and spoke to her.
He surveyed her now with that smoldering interest that melted her to the core. “Follow me up, Mabel. Bring all that with you.”
Alicia relaxed in Finnley’s embrace, reveling in his solicitous behavior. The heat, the comfort, the rapture of being held by such a powerful creature flowed through her like good red wine. And to think, it was her butler, her servant, who did this to her when her husband had never elicited any naughty thoughts. Nor had any of her suitors during her Season. Sad, that. And many had called her a beauty.
“You must let me walk,” she told him for the sake of the maid and her own decorum. Her arm around his shoulder, she clung to him.
“Nonsense.”
He kept on up the stairs.
Grinning, she rejoiced in his stubbornness. “I appreciate your dedication, Finnley.”
He glanced at her, his gaze hard blue sky. Then he smiled. And his expression spoke of more than duty or kindness. It spoke of fondness and laughter.
Her insight was but a flash.
His long black lashes flickered as he turned away. “You are welcome, my lady. Let us not speak of it again.”
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Table of Contents
NO NIGHT WITHOUT YOU
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
NO NIGHT TOO LONG
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
HER BEGUILING BUTLER