Free Good Earls Don't Lie by Michelle Willingham

his male skin. Her body had risen to his silent call, gooseflesh prickling over her arms. Over and over, she blamed herself for not calling out for a servant. Someone would have come if she’d only raised her voice.
    But she hadn’t. Rose closed her eyes, feeling her cheeks burn with mortification. The kiss was branded upon her skin, even now. Though he had done nothing except touch his mouth to her forehead, she could not stop thinking of the way it had made her feel—almost beloved.
    You didn’t scream. You allowed him to kiss you.
    She buried her face in the pillow, feeling the weight of the sinful moment. Lord Burkham had written letters to her, kind words of how he would remain steadfast, believing she would get well. How could she let herself forget that?
    She should never have allowed her imagination to sway toward another man. The Irishman had soothed her ego, making her feel desirable. And though he had only kissed her forehead, she’d yearned for more.
    That was what bothered her most—her own secret feelings burdened her now.
    Her traitorous mind had questioned what it would have been like if he’d kissed her lips. Would he have claimed her like a pirate, kissing her until she succumbed to seduction? Or would he have kept the kiss chaste, similar to those Lord Burkham had given? Thomas had only kissed her hand a few times, and once, he’d kissed her lips when they were out walking. Never had he pressed her for more.
    Not like the Irishman. She had a feeling that if she’d allowed even the slightest kiss, he would demand her surrender. All night, she had dreamed of him, imagining the touch of his mouth upon her skin.
    Stop. Rose clenched her fists against the coverlet, knowing no good could come of such thoughts. She sighed and hoisted herself to a seated position. There was a bell on the table beside her, for her to ring if she required assistance. But she was tired of waiting on people to help. She wanted to take care of herself.
    Using her hands to push her useless legs over the side of the bed, she braced herself. I am going to get well . After six months, she had recovered from the violent illness that had left her numb and unable to move. Strange to imagine that food could poison her body in such a way, leaving her immobile.
    No matter how long it took, she would continue her daily outings to the garden to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. It frustrated her that so many things she’d taken for granted were now lost to her. The simple acts of choosing a morning gown and walking across the room were impossible.
    Rose dragged her body across the coverlet until she reached the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Her arms had grown stronger with each day, and she felt certain that one day she would manage to stand up. She still had sensation in her legs, even if they would not bear her full weight.
    After taking a deep breath, she clutched the bedpost with both arms, hugging it tightly as she eased herself toward the ground. Her legs slid off the coverlet, and once again, they were like the legs of a marionette, collapsing beneath her.
    She gripped the bedpost, struggling to hold herself upright. And still, there was nothing she could do. Her legs would not support her body.
    Someone knocked at the door, and she hoped it was her maid, Hattie. “Come in,” she answered.
    Lily entered the room just as Rose’s arms gave out and she crumpled to the floor. “Rose, what are you doing?”
    “Humiliating myself.” It was difficult to be dignified when one was eye to eye with a chamber pot. She wrinkled her nose and lifted her face from the floor. Lily hurried over and helped her sit upright. With one arm around her waist, her sister hoisted her back onto the bed.
    “You should know better than to try and stand,” her sister chided. “It might have been an hour before Hattie found you. You couldn’t reach the bell.”
    Rose knew that, and yet, she had no intention of abandoning her practice attempts. Instead,