Page 33 of Dangerous

“Come with me.” Mia stormed past him, not bothering to see if he followed. She flew down two flights of cold marble stairs in her bare feet, marched past rooms she’d not yet been inside, and flung open the dining room door before the valet could reach it and open it for her.

The Marquess of Exley sat in the same seat he’d occupied at dinner. His head, instead of an untouched plate of food, rested on the table before him. Loud, sawing snores filled the room.

Mia let out a stream of crudities in three languages and the valet jolted beside her. “Fetch some help,” she ordered.

The valet left and Mia went to her husband, noting the glitter of broken glass on the far side of the room. She brushed back the dark lock of hair that hung over his cheek. There was a rather large scratch on his forehead and she wondered how he’d hurt himself.

Rough bristles scratched her hand and she smiled at the masculine friction.

“My lord?”

His eyes fluttered open, his expression sleepily confused as she stroked his face, feathering away the lines that radiated out from his drowsy eyes.

His lips curved. “Mia?”

Mia started. She couldn’t have said which stunned her more, his unexpected use of her diminutive name or the sweet smile. Who was this man? He looked nothing like her condescending husband.

“Go back to sleep, my lord,” she counseled, sliding her hand beneath his cravat and rubbing his neck. His muscles were hard and knotted, like rocks beneath the hot silk of his skin.

He muttered something unintelligible and his face went slack with pleasure, and, no doubt, alcohol. He closed his eyes and resumed snoring.

“My lady?”

Mia had been so intent, she hadn’t noticed the valet’s return. A large footman stood beside him.

“Please take him to his room.” Mia stepped aside to let the men do their work.

Exley appeared slim, but he was solid muscle, sinew, and bone and the two men were gasping for breath by the time they took him up several flights of stairs and finally deposited him on his bed.

Mia dismissed the footman and turned to the valet. “What is your name?”

“Sayer, my lady.”

“Sayer, strip His Lordship and put him in bed. Knock on my door when you are finished.”

Twin streaks of color darkened the man’s narrow, impassive face. “Ah, strip him? And dress him in his nightshirt?”

“No, leave him naked.”

His entire face reddened. “Yes, my lady.”

By the time he knocked on her door a short time later Mia had washed her face, pulled back her hair, and was waiting with the small bottle of lavender oil.

The marquess lay faceup on his enormous bed, the bedding pulled up to his chin. Mia smiled at the valet’s efforts to protect his master’s virtue.

“Good night, Sayer.”

The valet hesitated a fraction of a second. “Good night, my lady.”

Mia waited until the door closed before pulling back the blanket to her husband’s waist, leaving the most intriguing part of him covered.

“Oh my,” she muttered. This was going to be a true pleasure. She poured some oil into her hands and rubbed them together. First, she would study him at her leisure. It was unlikely she’d get another chance like this unless he drank to stupefaction every night. She shook that unpleasant thought away. He would not look so healthy if heavy drinking was a regular habit.

His jaw muscles were relaxed in sleep and his lips slightly parted. Mia traced a finger over them, her featherlight touch causing him to brush at his face with one hand and turn his head to the side.

His angular jaw and chin sprouted with his night beard, a striking black against the whiteness of his skin. Mia followed the beautifully chiseled jaw down to an elegant column of throat to sculpted shoulders. He was dusted with dark hair but not enough to hide the intriguing latticework of muscles that began at his chest and led to his narrow hips with a precision that was almost mathematical.

Her eyes lingered on his small, pink nipples and her sex tightened. Her mouth watered to suck his nipples until he writhed in ecstasy.