She gave him a soft smile, the kind that made him want to take her face in his hands and kiss her until her lips were puffy from his attention. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
He tightly nodded. “If you will excuse me, I have some correspondence that requires my immediate attention, but I will join you shortly.”
She gave a single nod. “Of course. Thank you for all of your help, my lord.” Then she dipped into a courtesy.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Greenwich.” He gave a stiff bow, needing for her to exit the room so that he could regain control of his overheating body. “If you’d be inclined, I’d very much like your company for dinner.”
She started, surprised by his invitation. Odd. Under the circumstances a shared meal was completely appropriate. Why did she seem so nervous? Perhaps it was the wolfish expression he was surely wearing. He relaxed his features and she did too. “I’d be delighted.” She then turned and fled the room before he could say anything more, which was probably just as well. He needed to write Nearbottom and he needed to calm his racing pulse.
Sitting down, he dipped the pen in ink, scrawling a quick note of apology. While he understood that Nearbottom had already begun the journey from London, a carriage accident and several unexpected guests now made entertaining impossible at this time. It was the truth, though it lacked several pertinent details.
Sealing up the letter, he dripped wax and pressed in his crest, ringing for the butler. With the party now out of way, he was free to figure out how to help Dahlia with her brother, and perhaps even arrange a tryst of their own.
Chapter Five
Sam had slept peacefully for most of the day. He’d woken briefly for a light meal and then gone back to sleep. Overall, the doctor was pleased with how the wounds looked. So far, there were no signs of infection.
Dahlia had sighed with relief at the news and then dressed for dinner. Her trunk had been rescued from the wreckage, so she’d returned Mary’s dress and was free to wear her own silk gown. The only one she had. It was a dark blue that complimented her hair and eyes, one of her favorites.
The neckline dipped near off her shoulder and exposed a peak of cleavage. A tad conservative for London standards of evening wear but considering she was having dinner alone with a dangerously seductive man, she considered changing the gown at least three times to wear a much less revealing day gown.
She realized now what that sizzling energy between them was. She’d been correct that it wasn’t necessarily fear, although she was a touch afraid of how he made her feel. Despite the formidable stone wolves at the gate, she was far more afraid of herself than him. Sam was doing well, and she’d lied and told a god of a man that she was an experienced woman. She’d seen the change in him those words had caused. He’d gone from restrained energy, with his back to her, to rapt attention in a single moment.
If she were smart, she’d cry ill and hide in her room. It was the wiser decision to be certain. He was dangerous. The problem was that she was also curious. Lord de Wolfe was so much more than any man she’d ever met in London. From his height to his large shoulders and muscular frame to the dark intensity of his stare, he was a living force of nature. She should stay away, but Dahlia was drawn to him.
Dragging in a long breath, she crossed the room and opened her door. Her brother was still in the house, how awry could one dinner possibly go?
The moment she stepped into the drawing room, that was answered. Lord de Wolfe stood in his evening attire, cut to perfection to highlight his broad chest, staring at her with the intensity of an actual wolf. A hungry one who was ready for his dinner. And she feared she just might be the dish he wanted to eat.
“You look ravishing,” he said his eyes traveling up and down her body.
She brought a hand up to cover the bare skin of her collar bone. His choice of words did little to assuage her impression of him as a predator. Which was somehow both exhilarating and terrifying. “Thank you. You also look quite dashing.”
He gave her a slow smile and her breath caught in her throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Greenwich.” He began to cross the room toward her, his movement powerful and graceful in a way that made her freeze like a frightened little bunny.
“Y-you’re welcome,” she croaked out, trying to make her voice work normally. He wasn’t going to eat her, and she needed to gain control of herself. Her palms were sweating and her knees weak.
He held out his elbow and she carefully placed her fingers in the crook, as though she needed to guard herself against her reaction to touching him. Which was the truth. A shiver of awareness raced down her spine.
He leaned close. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
Another indicator she had lied. “Yes, please. My nerves could use the salve.”
He gave her fingers a pat. “I can imagine you do. It’s been a trying few days.”
She didn’t correct him. She had been worried about Sam, but it was more her reaction to Lord de Wolfe that had her feeling frayed. “In regards to my brother, I am feeling most fortunate that I ended up at your door. Your help has been valuable beyond measure and I feel confident about his recovery thanks to all you’ve done.”
His hip brushed hers as they approached the bar. An ache was beginning to grow between her legs. He leaned close to her ear. “I was very glad to help, and even more thankful that his recovery is going so well.” Then he seemed to tense, his heat cooling. “When my wife fell from her horse, I did not know then what I do now.”
Her eyes flew to his. “Did she die from the fall?”
He shook his head, his body tensing as he moved further away from her. “No. She seemed fine at first, only sore in the ribs. It was complications that developed later that took her life.” His face twisted as he looked down at the floor. “What about your husband?”
Dahlia’s mouth fell open. Why had she not considered that she’d need specifics? She reached for the bar to steady herself. Silly little fool. Searching her mind, she used her parents’ deaths as inspiration. “Disease of the lung.”
He nodded sympathetically. “So difficult.”
She wet her lips, her fingers digging into the bar. “Were you heartbroken at the loss?”
One of his shoulders rose and fell. “I’d known Amelia since childhood. It seemed natural that we marry. And when she was gone, I…” He stopped, looked away. “I had never pictured my life without her.”
Guilt stabbed at her insides as she clenched her skirts. He had suffered real loss. She knew something about that, having lost half her family, and lying to say she’d also lost spouse was a terribly insensitive thing to do. “I am so sorry.”
He gave her a small smile. “You’ve experienced the same.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. Nothing like that.” Her mind began furiously searching for answers. Which only made her feel worse. “I’d lost my parents and married for security. We’d hardly been together when he’d fallen ill.”
“Ah,” he moved closer. “That explains why you are so young. When I very first saw you in a heap on the floor, I mistook you for a girl. I realized my mistake once you were out of the coat. Still, how old are you, if I might ask?”
The truth seemed her best option. She’d told enough lies for one night. “Nineteen.” He handed a glass filled with a deep red wine and she took a generous sip. “And you?”
“Twenty-six,” he answered. “And fully seasoned too in the perils of life, as are you.”
She gave a nod and took another large sip. “As long as my brother survives, I shall continue to consider myself an optimist.”
He gave a sad chuckle, his fingers brushing her arm. What a dangerous game she’d entered. She was both guilty of being deceitful and attempting to play the part of a woman with far more experience. In addition to all of that, worry for her brother made her long to bury her face in the comfort of his strong chest.
He gave a husky whisper. “I have faith he will.”
Dahlia closed her eyes, a truth s
lipping from her lips. “I don’t want to be alone in this world.”
Lord de Wolfe moved closer. Though she still had her eyes closed, she could feel his heat through her dress. Her nipples tightened and her eyes flew open just as his lips brushed her cheek. No man had ever been this close to her. “I can keep you company. We understand each other, I think.”
No, no, no. They did not understand each other. Not at all. She was a liar. And Dahlia had stayed to watch over her brother, not to allow a seductive man to draw her into a web of attraction. He was a predator. A sly one. “If you will excuse me, Lord de Wolfe. I’m not feeling well. I think I should return to my room.” Which was what she should have done in the first place.
His eyes tried to form a question, but he nodded, still terribly close. “Of course. Allow me to escort you up.”
“No,” she said quickly and rather louder than was necessary. “I’ll be fine. If you could please have a tray sent up, I’d be most grateful.”
“I’d be happy to.” He was still so close, his fingers lightly stroking her arm. “Are you sure you don’t need assistance upstairs? You’ve gone quite pale.”
She took a step back, still clutching her wine glass. “No, thank you.” She turned about, intent on escape, when her feet twisted into her dress. She normally wasn’t clumsy, but this man made her so, always setting her off kilter.
One of his hands grabbed her waist while the other steadied her hand holding the wine. He soon had the glass out of her hand and safely on the nearby side table, then he was pulling her against his chest.
“Lord de Wolfe,” she rasped, pushing at his chest. His behavior was beyond forward. Worse still, his heat and strength were melting her into a puddle. She’d soon be powerless to resist.
“Hush,” he murmured. “I am only steadying you until you’ve calmed enough to walk up the stairs without hurting yourself. The past few days have taken more of a toll than you realize, I think.” He lightly massaged her waist. “My apologies if I’ve been too forward. You should concentrate on your brother.”
Dahlia closed her eyes again. The scent of his sandalwood soap, leather, and wood wrapped about her. He smelled absolutely intoxicating. Or was that the wine she’d consumed? “I believe I am quite out of sorts.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said close to her lips. So close that she caught the scent of brandy on his breath. “Your heart is racing in your chest.”
Gads. It was. And because she was pressed against him, he could feel every single throb of attraction that the man’s traitorous organ was announcing. Dahlia was in quite the mess. That would teach her to lie.
Gavin was aware of several things all at once. The first was that the lovely little Dahlia was just as attracted to him as he was to her. She was like a little fluttering bird atwitter with want.
The idea made him smile. He’d guess that smile was positively wolfish.
But either because of her brother, her late husband, or perhaps both, he was certain she was resisting that attraction and he had to respect that. He’d be concerned if she wasn’t. Hell, he’d had two years to recover from his loss and his attraction to Dahlia left him with gut-wrenching guilt. So he’d give her the space she needed. He’d waited this long to be with a woman, he could go a little longer.
He wanted a relationship of mutual benefit that ended amicably and quickly. The last of his observations was that she was unprepared for such an arrangement in this moment.
“Mrs. Greenwich, please allow me to escort you to your door. It has been a traumatic few days for you. I should not, in truth, have asked you to dinner. It was insensitive of me, but allow me to help you now.”
Dahlia licked her lips again, her pink tongue trailing along her top lips and he nearly groaned aloud. He was trying to do the right thing, but she was driving him mad. “Very well, I accept.”
He did not let go of her waist, rather, he kept his arm firmly about her, holding her hand in his other, and tucked her hip against his. He thought of the walk to his office earlier and how he’d practically sprinted ahead of her. He’d needed distance then, and in truth he should add some now. How he held her now was intimate and protective and deep in his chest something tightened. This was not just the physical reaction he’d been experiencing in her company. He was…worried for her.
Perhaps a brief affair as he first imagined was a bad idea after all. He was in danger of betraying Amelia’s memory. A day in her company and he was feeling…connected.
“I’ll have the tray sent up straight away and then I insist you go immediately to bed. You need the rest.” He gave her hip the smallest squeeze. This woman was the perfect combination of soft and trim. He ignored the desire this invoked in him, focusing instead on her pale features.
“I will,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I don’t feel like myself at all.”
He narrowed his gaze and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, placing a hand on her forehead. “You’re quite warm.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired and…” Her voice trailed off and then she let out a loud sneeze.
He frowned. He should have ordered out of her wet clothes sooner. Bloody hell. “You are not. You may have caught a summer cold from being drenched by the rain for so long.” Without another word, he swept her into his arms just as he had the first night she’d arrived. Only now, everything was different. He was powerfully aware of her soft bosom and the curve of her hip as they pressed against his harder body.
She brought her hands to his neck. “My lord,” she started, aghast.
“Call me Gavin. I’ve now held you in my arms twice.” He pressed his cheek to her head and she was, truthfully, too warm. “And I assure you, I mean only to deposit you in your bed and then send Agnes to attend you. I’ll see to your brother’s care until tomorrow. You are to stay in bed.”
“But he needs me,” she protested.
“He needs to be kept safe from your cold,” he answered back, but worry had tightened his chest. On some level, Dahlia had already become important to him. How had that happened?
She lay her head on his shoulder and gave a nod of understanding. “You’re right.”
He drew in a deep breath, noting the faint scent of lilacs permeating her hair. A strand of that glorious mass of curls lay under his hand and he rubbed his palm along her back, allowing the silky lock to rub against his fingers. He sighed. What the bloody hell was the matter with him? Worrying after a woman, sighing like a lovesick fool?
Arriving at her room, he carried her through the door and lay her on the bed. She was still fully dressed, and his fingers itched to help remove her clothes, but not even he could argue with himself that he’d be doing the undressing for her benefit. But he wanted to help her.
With a sigh, he realized that since Amelia, he hated watching others suffer, women especially. If he were honest, it wasn’t just Amelia’s memory that held him back but his own inability to save her that left him scarred.
Which was why he needed respect boundaries and leave her care to the maid. He crossed the room and pulled the cord to summon Agnes. “Please, stay in bed tomorrow.”
With one last look at her stretched across the covers, her tiny waist accentuated by the curve of her hip rising up off the bed, he turned and left the room.
Chapter Six
Dahlia spent the next two days in bed with a summer cold. Two agonizing days where she could do no more than yell to her brother through the open connecting door. She longed to brush back his hair, check his color, see for herself that he was making progress. Instead, she had to make do with progress reports from Gavin about his health. Gavin had written to Sam’s employer, Gavin had spoken with the doctor, Gavin had sat with Sam for several meals.
She wasn’t jealous, at least that’s what she told herself. Sam deserved a friend and Gavin had been correct, being with Sam wasn’t worth the risk of getting him sick, though today she felt much better. And Sam had clearly enjoyed the male company. She could hear the
happy notes in his voice through the open door. He’d given most of them up when he’d taken on her care. And Gavin might be the most gracious host in all of England. But she was lonely being left in the room alone with only occasional visits from Agnes. Besides, her brother had done so much for her, she should be caring for him now.
She was failing everyone, or at least, that was how she felt. She’d lied to the man who now singlehandedly held her family together and she’d been unable to help her brother in any meaningful way.
Tossing the covers aside, she crossed the room to the window, watching the early morning sun rise in the sky. Her nose was only a bit stuffy now. She could at least open the door and look at her brother from across the room.
She turned the knob of their connecting door. It creaked a bit as it opened and she winced, holding still. She didn’t want to wake him, Sam needed his rest. But as she stood frozen, no noise came from the interior of the darkened room, so she pushed the door open a bit more, peeking her head inside.
Her brow crinkled, her lips pulling tight. Something was amiss. Her brother, asleep, tossed restlessly from side to side, low moans punctuating his movements.
She started into the room but stopped. She might inadvertently make things worse. Instead, she retreated to her room and grabbed a dressing robe from the hook on the door, pulling the garment on as she raced from the room.
She saw the butler first. “Where is his lordship?”
The man’s eyes widened. “His study.”
She didn’t have time to explain, nor did she care what he thought of her attire. Picking up speed, her bare feet moving swiftly across the carpet, she focused on what she could do, running for Gavin’s help. Again. But thoughts of what might happen if she didn’t pushed her legs faster. The study came into view, the door ajar, and she sprinted in without warning, stopping abruptly in front of his desk.
To Want a Rogue: De Wolfe Pack Connected World Page 4
