Free Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] by Something Wicked

revealed her identity, he probably wouldn’t try to seduce her. He’d always seemed to dislike her saucy tongue and irreverence toward his sex. He certainly wouldn’t let Elfled Malloren escape, however, to tell Rothgar about the plot.
    Elf wriggled a bit and managed to get her head into a slightly more comfortable position. Really, this was such a ridiculous situation! Was there any hope she could tell her brothers about the treasonous plot without revealing her string of follies? Gloomily, she concluded there wasn’t.
    Thank heavens Cyn was well away. He’d be disgusted with her.
    After much thought, she concluded she’d have to continue to be Lisette, the reluctant French mistress. That way she might manage to avoid recognition and escape in the morning. If only she could persuade him to untie her.
    Then she realized she still had her bodice dagger.
    How to use it, though?
    She very much doubted she could stab Walgrave with it, but it would serve to cut her bonds. If she had use of her hands.
    Or had her hands at the front.
    It was a risk, but she took it.
    “Monseigneur?” she called, remembering to use French. After a moment, she called again, louder. “Monseigneur!”
    He’d left the door open, and she heard movement in the next room. Then light flared. In a few moments, he appeared, a branch of lighted candles in one hand.
    Elf’s plans were momentarily fractured by the sight of him.
    He must sleep naked.
    He’d clearly just pulled on a long, black silk robe, loosely tying the sash at the waist. She realized she was staring at his magnificent chest and hastily looked up. The sight was no less distracting. His brown hair curled loose to his shoulders, endearingly disheveled from sleep.
    Something about his appearance made her think of angels, warrior angels such as Michael. As he stepped forward, the thin robe clung to his body, and even parted to show a warrior’s legs.
    Elf stared, stunned by an alarming desire to kiss various bits of his magnificent anatomy.
    “Come to your senses, Lisette?”
    She forced her mind back to her purpose. “Oh, my lord. I’m in such discomfort. Will you please untie me?”
    “Of course not. Is that why you woke me?”
    “I can’t get any rest,” she sniveled. “Could you not at least tie my hands in front? I rolled like this and can’t roll back.”
    His expression relaxed into a wry smile. After placing his candles on a table, he settled on the edge of the bed to rub her back in a disconcertingly gentle manner. “Poor Lisette. I suppose you’re thoroughly scared. And, as you say, uncomfortable. You see what comes of going on wild adventures to Vauxhall.”
    “I do, my lord. I’ll never be so foolish again.” And that was true. After this night, Elf wanted no more adventures.
    “But I can’t risk your running off, you know. I’m not sure you won’t tattle of things that can’t be spoken of. And there’s a chance those men are watching the house. I’ve no mind to have an innocent life on my conscience.”
    Surprisingly, he sounded sincere. This was a Walgrave she did not know.
    “I understand, my lord. But if you could just tie my hands in front . . .”
    He rubbed her back for a few more moments, and when he stopped, Elf almost protested. “Very well,” he said, and untied her wrists. He rolled her onto her back, and even gave her a moment to stretch and rub away some of the pins and needles before seizing her wrists to retie them at the front.
    Despite her discomfort, despite the danger, Elf couldn’t help appreciating the beauty of him so close in the candlelight. Framed in jet-black silk, the muscles of his chest and neck were clearly defined. She’d never thought men’s necks of any particular interest.
    She would dearly like to see the whole of him, to see if it matched the promise of the visible parts . . .
    “Changing your mind, sweetheart?” The lazy voice pulled Elf out of her wanton thoughts and she looked up at him, embarrassed.