Free The St Nicholas' Day Wager by Em Taylor

pounding.
    “I didn’t see. The cowards hit me from behind.”
    “How do you know they were gentlemen?”
    Nick rubbed his side.
    “Believe me, I know a well-made pair of hessians when they are kicking me in the ribs.”
    “Oh!”
    “Plus, they had refined accents. They were no street urchins.”
    “I see. Well, let us put you to rights, my lord. Perhaps we can worry about who did this once you are not staining the pillows with the blood on your head.”
    Nick grimaced.
    “I believe you are correct, Gabriella, and you are properly chaperoned if your maid is here. Carry on.” The earl guided his wife out of the bedchamber and presumably to the nearest brandy decanter.
    ****
    “Gah!” Nick roared as Gabriella lifted his knee gently, holding it until her maid placed a pillow under it and then let it down slowly. The pain was so intense it made him want to cast up his accounts there and then. But he would not show himself up in front of her.
    “I am sorry,” she whispered, “but it does need to be elevated.” She placed cold, wet cloths over the knee he was sure was twice the size it was supposed to be.
    “Shall I take the dirty water down to the kitchen, my lady?” asked the maid, scowling into the large bowl of water he assumed to be somewhat bloody given the state of his head.
    “Yes please, Molly. I shall use the bowl on the side there but please bring up some more cold water.”
    “Yes, my lady.” Molly bobbed a curtsey as Gabriella placed a hand on either side of his face and pushed his face into her bosom so she could inspect the wound at the crown of his head. His body reacted instantly. The poor girl was clearly not thinking about the situation she was currently in as she ran a damp cloth over the head wound.
    He sucked in a breath at a sharp sting and placed his hands on her waist. It wasn’t that the head wound itself was sore, but he was already nauseated from the pain in his knee.
    Damn, she had luscious breasts. Every part of his being, and one part in particular, wanted him to stick out his tongue and lick the skin just under his lips. Thank heavens for the fischu. It seemed to taunt him and remind him of his need to be honourable at this moment. Meanwhile the throbbing in his knee reminded him he could hardly tumble the girl even if he wanted to. And the new ache in his groin told him he desperately wanted to.
    “It has nearly stopped bleeding,” she remarked as another sting made him suck in a breath, filled with her scent of lavender. Involuntarily his hands moved higher. His manhood was straining at the fall of his breeches and she still had no idea what kind of predicament she was in.
    He brushed the knuckles of his thumbs along the underside of her breast and she gasped. Was it a gasp of pleasure or one of outrage, he was not sure. He moved his thumbs again.
    “My lord,” her voice was husky.
    More desire than protest then.
    He smiled against her décolletage and pursed his lips, dropping a kiss to the one bit of spare skin her fischu did not cover. She stepped away, biting her lip. “My lord, that is wholly inappropriate,” she said, the censure in her voice somewhat lacking.
    “Did you like it though, Gabby?” he asked.
    Her throat worked as she swallowed and looked anywhere but at him. “My lord, we are not yet married.”
    “No, we are not. But I asked if you liked it. Did you?”
    Her cheeks were crimson, almost hiding the strawberry birthmark. She nodded slowly.
    “Me too.” He grinned.
    “My lord!” she chastised.
    “Oh don’t ‘my lord’ me, Gabby. You were the one who stuck my face in your bosom. I just…took advantage of it.”
    “I did and I am sorry.”
    “I am not sorry. It took my mind off the pain in this blasted knee.”
    “Well I am afraid my bosom will no longer be acting as a distraction for you, Nicholas.”
    “Oh my darling Gabby, even from here it is a delightful distraction.”
    ****
    Gabriella knew she should go to bed. He could easily ring