Read Online Lady Beauchamp's Proposal by Secret Cravings Publishing - Free Book Online

about herself, trying to recollect any detail, no
matter how small, about her lost hours. She suddenly wondered where
all the other servants were. When she had first arrived, it had
seemed as if she and Lord Rothsburgh were the sole inhabitants of
this vast, lonely place. But then an image of another, older woman
with grey hair suddenly materialized in her mind’s eye—she was a
servant, Elizabeth was sure of it. She had a vague memory of the
woman bathing her brow, holding a glass of water to her lips and
assisting her to the privy. Yes—she knew there was a garderobe
through the door to the right of the bed and the older woman had
helped her to get there.
    But clearly it hadn’t just been the older
woman who had cared for her…
    Elizabeth’s gaze drifted over to the bed
again. Lord Rothsburgh was sleeping peacefully—for a moment she’d
been worried that he had also been struck down with the ague, but
she could see no signs of fever or restlessness. He was lying on
his back, one arm tucked behind his head, while the other lay
relaxed at his side. She was struck again by how tall the man
was—and muscular. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help but
compare him to Hugh; her husband was also tall and lean, but in a
coltish way, whereas Lord Rothsburgh appeared to be broader and
harder; a man who was obviously accustomed to physical exertion. He
was certainly not an indolent nobleman.
    Her gaze roamed over his wide shoulders, his
bulging upper arms that were barely contained by his linen sleeves,
and the broad plane of his chest that she now knew from experience,
was as unyielding as rock. Her eyes then drifted lower to where his
shirt was still rumpled up around his lean hips, and her breath
caught in her throat—the man had a rampant erection.
    Oh, my Lord. Blushing furiously, she
ripped her gaze away from the tented fabric at his groin and
glanced at his face; thankfully he was still fast asleep. At least
he wouldn’t know she had seen him in such an unguarded state.
    Stop looking at him, Elizabeth. But
it seemed her eyes wouldn’t obey her. A strange nervous curiosity
held her in its grip. Regardless of the danger—the marquess might
wake at any moment and catch her out—and the certain knowledge that
what she did was wrong, she couldn’t seem to resist the temptation
to continue her blatant study.
    Despite his body’s obvious physical prowess,
and ruggedly handsome looks, Lord Rothsburgh appeared strangely
vulnerable in sleep. But when he was awake…Raven-haired and almost
olive-skinned, Elizabeth couldn’t decide whether the marquess
reminded her more of a gypsy, a pirate or Lucifer himself. She knew
already that even a fleeting glance of his brown-black eyes was
enough to put her to the blush.
    Yes, for all his apparent softness now, Lord
Rothsburgh was dangerous indeed. Frowning, she continued to trace
over his features, trying to ascertain why just looking at him made
her heart beat as wildly as that of a silly young girl. Of course,
there were his high slashing cheekbones, his straight blade of a
nose, and wide, firmly sculpted mouth. Or perhaps it was the wing
of sleep-ruffled black hair that perpetually flopped across his
brow, making her fingers itch to push it out of his eyes.
    It most certainly couldn’t be the fact that
he badly needed a shave. His lean, square jaw was so shadowed with
dark stubble, she could only just make out the slight indentation
in his chin. She clenched her hands into fists. No, she wouldn’t
think about what his smooth jaw would feel like under her
fingertips after he’d used a razor.
    What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe the
fever had addled her brain.
    Just at that moment, Lord Rothsburgh began
to stir. She started guiltily, and turned her gaze to the fire. Out
of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he rolled to his side
and one of his arms reached toward the side of the bed where she
had been.
    “Beth…” he murmured sleepily. His use of