Page 56 of Love with a Notorious Rake

“You could have told me what you were up to at the mill. I would have kept your confidence.”

“I trust you, but I had promised I would not reveal my real name or purpose to anyone. That compact no longer matters, considering our situation.”

“And what is our situation?” Cristyn whispered, her heart beating faster.

“Before I tell you more about my life, my past, and the wreckage that comes with it, it’s more important that I reveal my feelings.” He gave her a heated look. “You move me. You touch my damaged heart, and it terrifies me how much I feel.”

He stood and walked toward her. Oh, but he was magnificently masculine. He was much more robust than he had been at the sanatorium. His emotionally spoken words still echoed in her heart. Gently grasping her arms, he brought her to her feet to stand before him. Wearing only a cotton shift, her body reacted immediately to his nearness. His woodsy scent mixed with the odor of fresh rain. A lock of damp hair fell forward across his forehead, and she could not stop herself from tenderly moving it away. Her fingers lingered, caressing his cool cheek.

Aidan moaned, then grasped her fingers, brought them to his lips, and kissed them. “I am falling for you, Cristyn Bevan. I’m weary from fighting it. Running from it. You see, I suffered under the belief I was not worthy. Perhaps I still believe that, for when I tell you everything, you will turn from me in abhorrence. I couldn’t bear your rejection. It is why I left the clinic in such haste. The coward’s way. But then, I’ve always been a coward. Afraid to live, to take responsibility. Afraid to…love.”

Her insides melted. “Love?”

“I thought at first the unknown emotions were borne from my deep and abiding gratitude for all you have done for me. I’ve never experienced them before. I am still trying to work out what it all means.” He cupped her cheeks, staring into her eyes. “You said you had fallen for me. Does it still hold true, despite my erratic behavior?”

Cristyn nodded, then stood on the tip of her bare toes and kissed him. Aidan slipped his arm about her waist and brought her in tight against him. With little clothing between them, she could feel everything. A groan that bordered on a growl slipped from Aidan as he took the kiss deeper, hungrily exploring every part of her mouth. As his lips trailed to her neck, he whispered huskily, “Touch me.”

Oh. Dare she? Her hand slipped below the waist of his smallclothes. There was no mistaking the hardness that met the brush of her fingers. Cristyn gripped him and squeezed, causing another moan to reverberate though him.

“Yes, damn it all,” Aidan rasped. He laid his hand on top of hers, rubbing them across his erection. He then guided her hand to tunnel under his waistband until she made contact with his arousal. The feel of it burned, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She was curious. And excited. Not the least bit afraid. “Stroke me,” Aidan urged. He showed her how.

Aidan clasped her breast, his thumb brushing across her pebbled nipple. “So beautiful—”

A sharp rap at the door broke them apart.

“Miss Bevan! Open this door at once! Who’s in there with you?”

“Quick, get dressed!” Cristyn whispered fiercely. Mrs. Trubshaw must have the ears of a hawk. Aidan scrambled to collect his clothes and boots from the fireplace. Hastily dressing, Cristyn flung open her window. “Out on the roof, you can climb down the oak tree.”

The pounding became louder. “Open up or I will fetch my master key!”

“Coming, Mrs. Trubshaw. You’ve woken me out of a dead sleep. Give me a moment!” Cristyn cried as she pushed a half-dressed Aidan toward the window. He had on his trousers and boots, clasping his shirt in his fist. It would have to do.

Before he climbed out, he gave her a swift kiss. “Come to my room at seven tomorrow night.”

As soon as he disappeared through the window, she closed it partway and drew the curtains. Taking the blanket Aidan had discarded, she placed it about her shoulders. “I’m coming!”

Cristyn no sooner opened the door when the widow pushed past her, looking about the room. “I heard a man’s voice. Do not deny it. Where is he?” She marched to the window and threw it open, and a blast of cold rain hit Mrs. Trubshaw square in the face. Sputtering, she immediately closed it. “Miss Bevan, I’m tolerant of many things, but a man in your room at night is beyond the pale.” The widow sounded more disappointed than angry, and Cristyn felt a twang of guilt—especially for the lie she was about to tell.

“I fell asleep in the chair. I must have been dreaming, speaking out loud.” Cristyn yawned and rubbed her eyes for good measure.

The landlady frowned. “If I come across as brusque and nosy, it is because I am concerned for you. You arrived here without a proper guardian, and I felt it my duty to take on the role. I understand your father wished for Dr. Middlemiss to act as such, but men, in my opinion, are inadequate for such a delicate task.” Mrs. Trubshaw’s look softened. “I speak from experience. Regardless of your social standing, a young, unmarried woman’s reputation is everything. Do not make the mistake I made. Long ago, I was caught in a compromising position with a man far above me in station. I was in love, but he turned from me. I’m thankful that Mr. Trubshaw stepped forward to save me from complete disgrace. Do not allow it to happen it you,” she ended on a fierce whisper.

No doubt Mrs. Trubshaw’s disgrace came at a time when society manners mattered more than anything. They were still important, but not to the extent they had been thirty years past.” I do thank you for your ongoing concern. But as I said, I was dreaming.”

The widow cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Well, if you say that is what I heard. But know this: I have rules for any boarders. No visitors in your room, or I will have no alternative but to turn you out.”

“I will certainly heed your warning, on all counts.” Once Mrs. Trubshaw departed and Cristyn had closed and locked the door, she exhaled. First Paris with his sad tale, now her widowed landlady. But would she heed the warnings? She gazed at her hand. It still burned where she had stroked him. How bold of her. Aidan’s husky plea for her to touch him had nearly made her knees buckle.

The attraction between them roiled at full heat, enough to scorch them both. If they kept meeting in secret, Cristyn understood where it would lead. Though she appreciated Mrs. Trubshaw’s well-meaning admonition, her virginity was her business. When to give it up, and to whom, was always a choice she was determined to make, inside of marriage or out of it.

She yearned for it to be Aidan. But first, she must hear the rest of what he had to say. What possible debris in his past had compelled him to take on such a mission? Wollstonecraft: such an odd and rare name. If only Mrs. Trubshaw had not interrupted them.

Improper or not, she would go to his room tomorrow night. Not only to allow him to continue his narrative, but for his overwhelming kisses. Cristyn yearned to explore his hard, muscled body. To see that fiery look in his eyes once again.

The following day, a steady stream of patients filed in to the medical clinic. When Tessie entered the office around noon, Cristyn stepped forward and escorted her behind the curtain. Peeling back the dressing, Cristyn tried not to frown at the condition of the wound, nor would she admonish the young woman. There was swollen skin around the stitches, showing a slight infection. With quick efficiency, Cristyn bathed the wound in antiseptic, snipped away the threads, then redressed it with a smaller plaster.

“I share an acquaintance with Mr. Black,” Cristyn murmured. “He tells me you went to his room for a specific purpose.”