Kasey Michaels - Lords of Scandal - The Beleaguered Lord Bourne / The Enterprising Lord Edward

“Oh, Kit, please stop—”

“No!” he nearly shouted, staring at the ceiling. “I have to say it. I dragged myself over to where Denny’s mount lay, a bloody hole in his belly, and that’s when I saw him. When…when they found me I was still trying to put Denny back together.” He turned toward Jennie, his eyes burning fiercely as he tried to explain. “I tried, kitten, I really tried. But…but the pieces…the pieces didn’t fit.”

Jennie could stand no more. “Stop it! Please, Kit, stop it!” she pleaded, sobbing as she hid her face in his neck while one bunched fist beat ineffectually against his chest. Kit grabbed at her hand and tried to calm her, suddenly cast into the role of comforter, but his words had taken the innocent child named Jennie and rudely catapulted her into the real world, where sometimes the handsome knights did not prevail.

He rose up, pushing Jennie onto her back and catching her flailing arms above her head. “Jennie…kitten…hush, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he crooned as her hurt whimpers slowly subsided.

Did he know that her tears were for him? For him, and for Denny, and for all the soldiers who were still dying in that awful, awful war? “No, Kit,” she whispered huskily, “don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean to cry. It’s just that it’s all so awful…so cruel—”

He looked down into her tear-bright eyes and confused, defeated expression, and his heart swelled with fierce, unfamiliar feelings for this caring, compassionate girl who cried for him. “Jennie…kitten…I… oh, God, ” he groaned passionately as his mouth came down over hers.

NOTHING COULD BE this comfortable, this delightfully warm and soft. Jennie couldn’t suppress a small sigh as she snuggled more deeply into the cocoon of creature comfort provided by Kit’s embrace—although her sleep-befogged mind had yet to identify it as such. She was too intent on indulging herself in a few more moments of blissful sensuality, allowing the demands of her pleasure-seeking body to keep her mind uninformed as to its actual source. But nothing, not even such innocent bliss, can last forever, and at long last, Jennie began to surface from her slumber.

Stretching out one small hand, she encountered a smooth expanse of warm flesh that she instantly recognized as Kit’s bare left shoulder. His entire body stiffened and her huge green eyes opened wide as the events of the previous night came rushing into her consciousness willy-nilly. “Oh, Lord!” she whispered almost under her breath. “What have I done?”

Slowly, praying all the while, she tilted her head back until she could see her husband’s face. Her prayers were answered—he was still sound asleep. If her luck only held until she managed to disentangle herself from his slack hold, she could escape to her own chamber, hide her traitorous body beneath her covers, and try to pretend nothing had happened. Please, she silently entreated any kind spirits who might have been listening, just let me get away from here without waking him.

Slowly, and with incredible stealth, she backed her body toward the side of the large bed and angled one foot toward the floor, which was maddeningly far away. Ducking her head, she slipped Kit’s right arm into position across his own chest and allowed her arms to trail behind her as her other foot hit the floor and she slid her body over the edge of the mattress. Another inch or two and she would be completely free of the bed. She held her breath as she slid closer and closer to the floor, releasing it in a long sigh only as her knees made contact with the rug. She’d made it! Now all she had to do was find her nightgown, wherever the dratted thing was, and steal across the room to the adjoining door. She gave a slight shiver—it was rather cold on the floor—and adjusted her plan. She could send Goldie to retrieve the nightgown later, even if it meant she’d have to listen to the maid’s sly jokes. She could not dare remaining in Kit’s chamber much longer, or else Leon might arrive to wake his master only to catch a glimpse of one hastily departing naked countess. Weighing her options in the twinkling of an eye, she chose Goldie as the lesser of two evils.

Jennie swiveled on the balls of her feet and prepared to creep across the wide expanse of carpeting that lay between her and safety, and had in fact begun to take a small step when her head was enveloped in a cloud of sheer white silk. Her nightgown! Where had that come from?

“Good morning, wife,” came a calm male voice. “Going somewhere? Surely you’ll wish your nightgown?”

Jennie looked over her shoulder and upward to see Kit’s leering face looking down at her from the edge of the mattress. That he was actually there looking down at her was bad enough, but to know that she could see him almost as clear as day through the nightgown still covering her head was enough to send her into an immediate attack of hysterics.

“Close your eyes, you lecher!” she yelped in a most unloverlike way. While Kit obligingly hid his eyes (though not his wide smile) behind his hand, Jennie struggled with the cursed nightgown, nearly ripping it as she fought her way through its folds to find the neck and arm openings hidden there.

“All right, you beast, you may open your eyes now,” she said as she laid her hand on the doorknob in anticipation of showing him nothing more than her rapidly departing skirts.

“Hey, kitten, wait a moment!” Kit called after her as she disappeared on the other side of the closed door. “You haven’t even given me my morning kiss. And after last night, too,” he ended on an exaggerated sigh of longing.

Jennie’s head reappeared through the partially opened door just long enough for her to say a highly colorful, definitely improper word and disappear again, leaving Kit to howl in delight at her display of temper.

Once safe in her own room and under the covers just as she had planned, Jennie bit down hard on the soft cushion of her thumb as she struggled with the memories that now crowded into her mind. Had she really allowed him to…encouraged him to…aided him in his desire to—oh, Lord above, she had! How could she ever hold her head up in his presence after her shameless behavior?

But it had seemed so right, felt so right at the time. She had been listening to his nightmare, comforting him. When had everything changed? How had she reverted from the comforter to the comforted, and when did the comforting turn into something deeper, something infinitely stronger than the mere wish to give each other ease? Somehow, without her knowledge, compassion had become passion, and that passion had led to…

Well, her common sense intruded, never mind now just where it had led. She poked her head out from under the covers to check the time on the mantel clock, planning to calculate how soon Goldie would be barging in with her morning chocolate, and came nose to nose with a smirking Lord Bourne.

“Up for air, are you?” he questioned cheekily before vaulting casually onto the mattress to lie at his ease on his side, one hand propping up his head as he gazed up at Jennie just as if he weren’t the most obnoxious, insufferable beast in creation. “You dashed off before I could claim a kiss from my dear bride. Tsk, tsk, how naughty you are, puss,” he said with a sad shake of his dark head. Reaching up, he snaked a hand around the back of her head, pulling her down to within an inch of his smiling mouth. “Pucker up now, sweetings, and give your husband his due.”

“I’ll give you a punch in the chops,” Jennie retorted, wrenching her head from his grasp.

Kit allowed his head to plop down onto the pillow. “Oh, woe is me,” he mourned in mock dejection, “the chit spurns me. And after all we were to each other. I believe I am cut to the quick.”