Dodson had made a reappearance, accompanied by two of Montague's typically handsome footmen.
"Assist Lord Montague to his rooms and make him comfortable," Simon said in a calm tone that was nonetheless a trifle high-handed. "And Lady Whit-more, may I suggest you change into something more appropriate for the circumstances?"
Prudish little toad, Lina thought rebelliously, ignoring the fact that Simon was neither little nor toad-like. "I thought the habit was eminently suitable, Mr. Pagett, given the spiritual aspect of the occasion and my nursing skills. "
In another man she might have recognized humor in his eyes. But this one was surely devoid of humor, and that light in his dark eyes must be impatience. "I wasn't objecting to the nun's habit. Lady Whitmore. I merely thought the decolletage was a bit extreme for a sickroom, and I assumed you preferred to be fashionable. You may wear whatever you please. "
"Thank you for your kind permission," she said with only the faintest bite beneath her soft tone. In fact, she'd forgotten that beneath the rounded white collar of the habit the plain black dress was cut very low, ostensibly to allow men to survey her bounty before she actually divested herself of her clothes. She resisted the impulse to yank her dress up higher. Her breasts were firm and well shaped; let the dour clergyman look his fill.
"You have a point, Mr. Pagett," she murmured. "Though it's a shame when you and I are so particularly matched. In costume, at least. "
For a brief moment the words hung in the air, seeming to take on a different meaning. And then Pagett scowled at her, ignoring her breasts as few men had managed in the past ten years. "I doubt we would find we have anything else in common," he said, sounding irritable. "Perhaps it would be better if you were to join your fellow sybarites. . . "
"I will stay. " In fact, she'd considered slipping away, but most likely Charlotte was in the room they were sharing, sound asleep.
The footmen were already carrying Montague from the candlelit salon amidst his weak curses and languid protests. The look Simon Pagett cast her was far from promising. "He's in safe hands with me.
Lady Whitmore, no matter what he says. It would probably mate things a great deal simpler if you went and joined the others. "
She looked at him for a long moment. "And it would doubtless make things a great deal simpler if you returned from whence you came and waited until you were supposed to show up. Sometime next week, I collect?"
At first he didn't answer her, and she had the odd, uncomfortable sensation that he saw her too clearly. "Why would you suppose any such thing?"
"Because Montague would scarcely invite a stick-in-the-mud, disapproving parson to a house party composed of notorious libertines, would he?"
Now she could see for certain—he was amused. It barely touched the comers of his fine eyes, and his mouth kept its grim, uncompromising line. Nevertheless, he was amused.
"You think not. Lady Whitmore? In fact, he was expecting me tomorrow, and the Revels usually last a good four days, do they not?"
"Only three this time. " She didn't stop to wonder why he'd know that much.
His lips curved in a cool smile. "Perhaps Montague is beginning to accept the fact that he is mortal after all. I expect he hoped to be strong enough to enjoy at least a part of the Revels, and to rub my nose in it. " He stared down at her for a long moment, as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say.
She was feeling oddly breathless. If he wasn't going to speak, then she should, rather than stand there in that awkward silence. Of course, the way to break it would be to excuse herself, and that was exactly what she should do. Except she didn't want to.
There was an arrested expression in his eyes, and the silence held. Until something made him come to his senses, and he turned away with a short, dismissive laugh. "Montague will be resting for the next few hours, once the doctor leaves. You may as well
"We've got an arduous battle ahead and you'll need your strength. "
"Battle?" she echoed, confused. "Battle for what?"
"Montague's immortal soul. " He turned, then looked back for a moment. "And likely yours as well. "
And without another word he was gone.
For a first kiss it was not bad, Adrian thought coolly. Charlotte Spenser froze as his mouth touched hers, too shocked to do anything more, and Adrian pressed his advantage, pulling her closer against his body, wrapping his arms around her so she couldn't escape easily, and proceeded to work on seducing her mouth first. He slid one hand up to her gold-rimmed glasses, slipped them off and deliberately dropped them on the ground before she even knew what he'd done.
She could probably feel his iron-hard erection beneath her silly monk's habit, even if she didn't know what it was. Quite impressive—he hadn't been this excited so early in the game for a long time. He usually needed his partner to be completely naked and under him before he reached this dangerous point, further proof that he'd been far too interested in Charlotte Spenser to begin with.
She was struggling, just slightly, making a distressed sound, and he silently cursed. She was going to have to be handled very carefully or she might bolt, and he'd be honor bound to let her go. Assuming he still possessed a degree of honor.
Except that he knew she wanted this, or would if well-bred, virginal young women had any honesty. If he could just manage to convince her to let go of it all, this could be quite revelatory for both of them.
He lifted his mouth from hers, just barely, and looked down into her shocked, wide-open eyes, now without the annoying barrier of glass. She didn't even seem to notice he'd taken them. "It's easier if you close your eyes," he said in a practical voice. To his astonishment she did, and he kissed her again.
She was no longer struggling, a mixed blessing; her squirming had provided a lovely friction for his erect penis. Then again, it wouldn't help matters if he climaxed in his breeches. Her lips had been tight, frightened, but now they had softened, and he brushed his own lips against hers, once, twice, wanting to hum with anticipatory delight.
If she accepted his kiss he'd have her, he told himself. Accepted a real kiss, his tongue in her mouth, taking her, not this innocent stuff reserved for young ladies behind the punch bowl, innocent creatures who didn't know what they wanted.