Free Captive Scoundrel by Annette Blair Page B

and noted the danger.
     
    “Stop that,” she said. From her look, you’d think he’d broken her heart with such attention.
     
    “Blast it, Faith. If you don’t lie down beside me, I’ll shout down the house and everyone will know I’m well.”
     
    “You wouldn’t.”
     
    Of course he wouldn’t. “Do as I say, or you will find out.” Stubborn, stubborn woman. “Come; you’ll be here if I need you.”
     
    The set of her jaw told him she didn’t intend to budge.
     
    “Damn it, you have slept beside me before. Hell, you’ve slept entangled with me. Stay above the covers, if you must. I promise on my honour as a—”
     
    “Rake.”
     
    “A gentleman. Have you no trust in me?”
     
    She raised a brow. “You know the meaning of trust then?” He ignored the taunt. “I’m hardly in a position to compromise you.”
     
    She laughed again. “I’m so very compromised now, there is little left over which to worry.”
     
    “There is much over which to worry, make no mistake.” He only wished there were more. Though he had the inclination, his body refused to cooperate. But there was more to life than the sexual, was there not? And there could be pleasure for Faith, at least. He could…oh wicked, dangerous thought.
     
    “I confess, I am tired,” she said.
     
    “Finally, you show a modicum of sense.”
     
    “As usual, you act the hind end of a—”
     
    “Hush. Come to bed.”
     
    Shaking her head, Faith grudgingly climbed onto the opposite side and curled up, facing him “Did you never wonder,” she asked, “Why God made more horses hind ends than he made horses?”
     
    “You’ll get no rest, if you’re annoyed,” he said.
     
    She released a slow breath, and fought her smile. He applauded her attempt. Her thick lashes fluttered against porcelain cheeks.
     
    As Justin closed his own eyes, he wondered if Faith coming to nurse him was a gift, or a curse.
     
    Justin awoke to find Faith’s breast against his hand. He felt her budding nipple, closed his eyes and wished…Damnation. He eased himself away. Distance held safety for them both. He was a man flawed. And married. And Faith Wickham deserved better.
     
    He’d never known a woman like her. Known one? He couldn’t imagine one. No amount of money could induce Catherine to endure what Faith had. He’d seen his suffering reflected in Faith’s eyes. And no matter his yearning, nothing could come of a connection between them. He had ended, he reminded himself, half a man, and that half was married.
     
    Even if he divorced Catherine, which he would, an unmarried woman could not consort with a divorced man. He nearly laughed. An unmarried woman could not sleep beside a married man either, but Faith did exactly that. Strange circumstances, he told himself, made unusual bed-mates. Still, to avoid society’s censure, when he recovered, he and Faith must part. And with that realization came pain, sharp and stabbing, and Justin groaned.
     
    Faith sat up. “What’s wrong, love?”
     
    She was so foggy, she didn’t realize what she said. Hell, she probably called every mewling kitten, love. As always, when he became ill, she took him into her arms.
     
    Justin held her. He needed her strength until desolation passed. She thought him physically ill, and illness did plague him. Illness of spirit. For suddenly he felt overwhelming grief, as if his struggle had been for naught and he might as well have expired as recovered. There was nothing for him here. He’d lost Beth, and Faith, well, she was nothing more than an aberration, a last favour from above.
     
    “It’s all right. I’m here,” she said, sensing his despair. “You’ve lost so much. It must be difficult to come to terms with all of it.”
     
    Beth’s death? Never. “Terms be damned. I’ll never accept what happened, and I’ll have retribution, make no mistake.”
     
    “Revenge won’t solve anything. And you’ve healing to do before you’re ready to take on