Read Online Love With the Perfect Scoundrel by Sophia Nash - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophia Nash
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excess water from it to dab the injury. “But at least it isn’t festering.”
Her eyes clenched shut. She was using every effort to remain silent. He glanced fully at her beautiful torso, and felt like the worst sort of peeping sinner. It was just that he’d never seen one like her—so perfectly proportioned and angelic, so ethereal and pure. She was more beautiful than he remembered from last night.
Her breast would fit in the cup of his hand, and he had an irrational desire to test the contemptible thought. “It’s no wonder this happened,” he continued on an exhalation, “what with all your efforts downstairs.”
She said not a word.
The devil on his shoulder reminded him she was a rich, pampered widow whose aristocratic husband had probably purchased and swaddled her in those long strands of pearls pooling in the hollows of her neck. The good earl had obviously followed the tradition of many peers of the realm by consecrating his wife’s body with his own and then marking his exclusive use with jewels from the vast family coffers. This was an elegant woman who expected everything in life, while Michael was a coarse rotter who was content if he could just fill his perpetually empty belly and survive. They were as alike as those lustrous pearls of hers to dross.
“I don’t think you need new stitches, provided, of course, you promise to spend tomorrow in this bed.”
“Anything,” she said tightly. All at once she turned her head and opened her eyes, which were shiny with withheld tears.
The devil in him withered away at the sight of her obvious pain and it nearly broke his heart. “Oh sweetheart…”
Her expression changed to horror. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
His gut twisted with guilt. She’d obviously witnessed his raw male response to her beauty. “Sorry.”
“You don’t appear sorry at all.” She covered her breasts with her slim hands.
“I am sorry, sweetheart. But all men are scoundrels. Didn’t the earl warn you?”
Her eyes flared again but this time with uncertainty. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“No,” she replied. “The person wearing the clothes should have to answer first.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Hold off. I should see to a new bandage.” Perhaps there would be something on the shelves. That would buy him a few moments to gather his wits.
With little thought, he ripped a frayed sheet he found into long strips. “All right then, let’s get this out of the way. Can you sit up? Here, let me help you.”
Before she could reply, he gritted his teeth and dug his arm under her tiny waist and dragged her into a sitting position. Her head fell into the crook of his arm, and she was forced to drop her hands from her breasts as he draped her lower body with a blanket. He knelt in front of her and found himself inches away from her heavenly, creamy flesh.
A little trickle of blood slipped past her ribs, and he grabbed the cloth to stop the flow.
“I can do that,” she said.
“Good.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
He anchored the bandage on her lowest rib, and continued to wind the white flannel upwards. “Raise your arms now,” he gritted out.
She inhaled, and God help him, she followed his directions. The faintest note of her heady, expensive scent reached his nose and resonated in his sensually starved mind. The lovely tips of her breasts tightened right in front of him and his groin followed suit to a painful degree.
Michael placed an extra bit of padding over the wound and continued binding the injury, inadvertently brushing one breast in his haste.
She made a sound of distress.
“Sorry,” he bit out.
The moment he tucked in the end of the cloth, she dropped her arms and wrapped one of her shawls about herself.
“Thank you,” she said with a small degree of desolation in her words.
An awkward silence filled the room as he stood and moved the
Her eyes clenched shut. She was using every effort to remain silent. He glanced fully at her beautiful torso, and felt like the worst sort of peeping sinner. It was just that he’d never seen one like her—so perfectly proportioned and angelic, so ethereal and pure. She was more beautiful than he remembered from last night.
Her breast would fit in the cup of his hand, and he had an irrational desire to test the contemptible thought. “It’s no wonder this happened,” he continued on an exhalation, “what with all your efforts downstairs.”
She said not a word.
The devil on his shoulder reminded him she was a rich, pampered widow whose aristocratic husband had probably purchased and swaddled her in those long strands of pearls pooling in the hollows of her neck. The good earl had obviously followed the tradition of many peers of the realm by consecrating his wife’s body with his own and then marking his exclusive use with jewels from the vast family coffers. This was an elegant woman who expected everything in life, while Michael was a coarse rotter who was content if he could just fill his perpetually empty belly and survive. They were as alike as those lustrous pearls of hers to dross.
“I don’t think you need new stitches, provided, of course, you promise to spend tomorrow in this bed.”
“Anything,” she said tightly. All at once she turned her head and opened her eyes, which were shiny with withheld tears.
The devil in him withered away at the sight of her obvious pain and it nearly broke his heart. “Oh sweetheart…”
Her expression changed to horror. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
His gut twisted with guilt. She’d obviously witnessed his raw male response to her beauty. “Sorry.”
“You don’t appear sorry at all.” She covered her breasts with her slim hands.
“I am sorry, sweetheart. But all men are scoundrels. Didn’t the earl warn you?”
Her eyes flared again but this time with uncertainty. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“No,” she replied. “The person wearing the clothes should have to answer first.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Hold off. I should see to a new bandage.” Perhaps there would be something on the shelves. That would buy him a few moments to gather his wits.
With little thought, he ripped a frayed sheet he found into long strips. “All right then, let’s get this out of the way. Can you sit up? Here, let me help you.”
Before she could reply, he gritted his teeth and dug his arm under her tiny waist and dragged her into a sitting position. Her head fell into the crook of his arm, and she was forced to drop her hands from her breasts as he draped her lower body with a blanket. He knelt in front of her and found himself inches away from her heavenly, creamy flesh.
A little trickle of blood slipped past her ribs, and he grabbed the cloth to stop the flow.
“I can do that,” she said.
“Good.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
He anchored the bandage on her lowest rib, and continued to wind the white flannel upwards. “Raise your arms now,” he gritted out.
She inhaled, and God help him, she followed his directions. The faintest note of her heady, expensive scent reached his nose and resonated in his sensually starved mind. The lovely tips of her breasts tightened right in front of him and his groin followed suit to a painful degree.
Michael placed an extra bit of padding over the wound and continued binding the injury, inadvertently brushing one breast in his haste.
She made a sound of distress.
“Sorry,” he bit out.
The moment he tucked in the end of the cloth, she dropped her arms and wrapped one of her shawls about herself.
“Thank you,” she said with a small degree of desolation in her words.
An awkward silence filled the room as he stood and moved the
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