Read Online Forget Me Not by Melissa Lynne Blue - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Lynne Blue
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Donnelly—”
“Call me Brian, please, Mrs. Baker.”
Anna beamed her delight. “Of course, Brian. In any case you’d best come along with your wife, she’ll need help with her stays, and you’ll need to see where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”
“Ma’am, we could not impose on you for more than is absolutely necessary,” Brian protested instantly.
“For the man who saved my husband’s life it is no imposition at all. Besides, we don’t often get visitors out here and I would love to hear how the two of you came to be traipsing along the road with no horse, no supplies, and she without clothes.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Brian’s voice echoed through the narrow stairwell.
His very essence surrounded Lydia, his rumbling voice, the thud of his footfalls, she would swear even his masculine scent inundated her senses. The thought of his helping her dress left her teetering and off balance, her pulse hammered, her palms were slick, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Her brain burned with the knowledge she may have, as her father would say, charged into the enemy lair with naught but your trousers and a gardening tool by claiming herself as his wife.
Within minutes Mrs. Baker provided a simple blue empire dress, the necessary undergarments, and closed the bedroom door behind them. Lydia’s eyes riveted to the single bed emulating from the center of the room. She gulped. Oh, yes, she had indeed set herself up for more than she’d bargained for. Certainly Brian wouldn’t expect her to share the bed with him. Surely he would behave as a gentleman… sleep on the floor, or—
“How can I be of assistance, wife ?” A thick and very manly finger traced the length of her spine. Lydia nearly hit the ceiling. “Would you be needin’ help with the task of takin’ yer clothes off?” His broad hands found her shoulders, and intoxicatingly warm breath breezed across her ear. “Puttin’ them on?” Heat radiated from his chest and into her back as he moved even closer. Brian’s fingers slid beneath the shirt lining her throat. “Or both?”
It was too much. Snatching away from his probing, provoking hands she clamped the front of her shirt securely in front of her. “Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Donnelly.” Gentleman, pah!
He chuckled, a mischievous smirk rolling over his mouth. “Mr. Donnelly is it now? I’m hurt to think me own wife won’t use my given name.”
“Oh! Shove off, Brian.”
“So we’re back to Brian then?” He winked provocatively, folding brawny arms across his chest. Muscles fairly bulged from every surface of his body. She’d never seen a man so generously well-built. He looked like a god standing before her, broad shoulders relaxed forward, his trim waist feeding into equally trim hips; his stance exuded an exhilarating confidence. “And ye still haven’t answered my question, just what do you need me to do, wife ?”
The man was insufferable and enjoying her discomfort entirely too much. “Stop calling me that,” she spat, putting the distance of the room between them, looking everywhere but his entirely too perfect frame. How had she come to be here, like this, with him? She was a proper young woman, and proper young women did not have these conversations with single men. “I only said we were married because a married couple traveling alone through the countryside is much less conspicuous than our true circumstances.”
“I agree.”
“And just how would you have introduced me?”
“You, Miss Impatient, will never know.” He flopped across the bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Are you plannin’ to get dressed anytime soon, love? I’m famished.”
Icily she glared at him. “Turn. Around.”
An exaggerated sigh whooshed from his lungs. “If I must.” Grudgingly he sat, let his gaze wander the length of her, and swung his legs around the edge of the bed, back squarely to her.
Eyeing him
“Call me Brian, please, Mrs. Baker.”
Anna beamed her delight. “Of course, Brian. In any case you’d best come along with your wife, she’ll need help with her stays, and you’ll need to see where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”
“Ma’am, we could not impose on you for more than is absolutely necessary,” Brian protested instantly.
“For the man who saved my husband’s life it is no imposition at all. Besides, we don’t often get visitors out here and I would love to hear how the two of you came to be traipsing along the road with no horse, no supplies, and she without clothes.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Brian’s voice echoed through the narrow stairwell.
His very essence surrounded Lydia, his rumbling voice, the thud of his footfalls, she would swear even his masculine scent inundated her senses. The thought of his helping her dress left her teetering and off balance, her pulse hammered, her palms were slick, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Her brain burned with the knowledge she may have, as her father would say, charged into the enemy lair with naught but your trousers and a gardening tool by claiming herself as his wife.
Within minutes Mrs. Baker provided a simple blue empire dress, the necessary undergarments, and closed the bedroom door behind them. Lydia’s eyes riveted to the single bed emulating from the center of the room. She gulped. Oh, yes, she had indeed set herself up for more than she’d bargained for. Certainly Brian wouldn’t expect her to share the bed with him. Surely he would behave as a gentleman… sleep on the floor, or—
“How can I be of assistance, wife ?” A thick and very manly finger traced the length of her spine. Lydia nearly hit the ceiling. “Would you be needin’ help with the task of takin’ yer clothes off?” His broad hands found her shoulders, and intoxicatingly warm breath breezed across her ear. “Puttin’ them on?” Heat radiated from his chest and into her back as he moved even closer. Brian’s fingers slid beneath the shirt lining her throat. “Or both?”
It was too much. Snatching away from his probing, provoking hands she clamped the front of her shirt securely in front of her. “Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Donnelly.” Gentleman, pah!
He chuckled, a mischievous smirk rolling over his mouth. “Mr. Donnelly is it now? I’m hurt to think me own wife won’t use my given name.”
“Oh! Shove off, Brian.”
“So we’re back to Brian then?” He winked provocatively, folding brawny arms across his chest. Muscles fairly bulged from every surface of his body. She’d never seen a man so generously well-built. He looked like a god standing before her, broad shoulders relaxed forward, his trim waist feeding into equally trim hips; his stance exuded an exhilarating confidence. “And ye still haven’t answered my question, just what do you need me to do, wife ?”
The man was insufferable and enjoying her discomfort entirely too much. “Stop calling me that,” she spat, putting the distance of the room between them, looking everywhere but his entirely too perfect frame. How had she come to be here, like this, with him? She was a proper young woman, and proper young women did not have these conversations with single men. “I only said we were married because a married couple traveling alone through the countryside is much less conspicuous than our true circumstances.”
“I agree.”
“And just how would you have introduced me?”
“You, Miss Impatient, will never know.” He flopped across the bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Are you plannin’ to get dressed anytime soon, love? I’m famished.”
Icily she glared at him. “Turn. Around.”
An exaggerated sigh whooshed from his lungs. “If I must.” Grudgingly he sat, let his gaze wander the length of her, and swung his legs around the edge of the bed, back squarely to her.
Eyeing him
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