Page 18 of Indecently Daring

She swallowed hard, sniffling.

“You’ve had a most upsetting experience, Miss Cadogan,” he tried, using his most authoritative and vicarish tone in the hope she might heed him and keep her unruly emotions at bay. Fat chance, he thought grimly. “You need your rest, and standing about in your nightclothes with bare feet is not going to….”

A big fat tear rolled down her face. Damnation.

“Miss Cadogan, please, go back to bed,” he said desperately.

She burst into tears.

Harry dithered as she sobbed. He tried his best to fight the instinct to offer comfort, for that way lay danger and madness, and who knew where it would end? No, he ought to fetch Mrs Stanhope. She could offer comfort better than he could. Far better. Far more appropriate.

“It was s-so c-cold and dark,” she said, hugging her arms about herself which pulled the cotton nightgown tight across her voluptuous breasts.

Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to unsee the shadow of her nipples, the tight little buds peaked against the fine fabric. Heat simmered beneath his skin. Damn you, Martin, the girl is overwrought, stop being so thoroughly inappropriate. Torn, he glanced back at her as sobs that racked her slender body. She wasn’t pretty when she cried, he observed wildly, unsettled to discover it did not lessen her appeal.

“I th-thought I was going to d-die. I’m frightened to close my eyes in case I d-dream about it.”

His heart broke a little at her obvious terror.

“You won’t,” Harry said firmly, reaching for her and pulling her against him before he could think better of it.

He held her tight for a moment, horrified by how the feel of her arms going about him made his heart sing, made him want to hold tighter still and not let go. He fought to steady his breathing, to not notice the way her warm, soft curves felt pressed against him.

“I w-won’t?” she repeated, staring up at him.

Harry shook his head. “I forbid you to have bad dreams, Miss Cadogan,” he said sternly. “You have done a wonderful thing today and you deserve to sleep like a baby, so I am telling you now, there will be no bad dreams. I forbid them, and I forbid you to have them.”

He was talking gibberish, obviously, but her expression cleared at his words, her lips quirking up a little.

“You forbid them?”

“I do.” With a supreme effort of will, Harry forced himself to let her go and took a step back. Desperately, he avoided looking directly at her and tugged at his borrowed waistcoat, feeling ridiculous. “Now, back to bed. This is most inappropriate.”

And now he sounded like a pompous arse.

“I’m so sorry I was so rude to you,” Miss Cadogan said, regarding him with frank curiosity.

Harry waved this away, eager to end this inadvisable conversation, and put the dreadful creature out of his mind. The terrifying suspicion that might be an impossible task nagged at him, making him increasingly impatient. “No matter. I provoked you.”

“You did,” she said with a grin.

Harry opened his mouth to tell her she ought not agree with him if she was apologising, but he swallowed his words before he was foolish enough to speak them.

“Apology accepted,” he said. “Now, go to bed before you undo all Mrs Stanhope’s good work and catch pneumonia.”

“I’m never ill,” she said, studying him far too intently.

Harry made the mistake of meeting those blue-green eyes, and stared at her, captivated. He saw once more lovely Artemis, her hair all undone, tempting him, beckoning him to join her on the wild hunt. Desire uncoiled deep in his belly, stirring thoughts he’d not allowed himself to have for a very long time.

“Miss Cadogan, please go back to bed now, before I put you there myself!” Harry begged as his sanity unravelled a notch. He had not felt this excitable thrum of anticipation, of wanting, in years, had not allowed it, for he knew what kind of behaviour it led to.

“Now who’s being inappropriate?” she said, her eyes wide with surprise and laughter.

“I didn’t mean—” Harry snapped his mouth closed.

He had to get out of here, away from her, from the scent of vanilla and roses that drifted from her unbound hair, from her soft warm skin. Without another word, he turned on his heel and fled.

Chapter 7