Then there was the Dillie explanation.
He had pleasured her. Twice. But she had worked her magic on him as well. There was something about her smile that grabbed his heart, and something about her touch that he always found soft and soothing.
She had a way of easing his pain.
He didn’t know how she managed it, she just did. Even last night, the way she’d cuddled against him to seek his warmth, had made him feel so good. Peaceful. Contented. He hadn’t felt that way since his brother’s death.
She must have sensed his gaze on her, for she opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She cast him a sleepy, vixen smile that made his heart soar. “Good morning, naked Ian.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Good morning, Daffy. You’re looking rather naked yourself.”
She glanced down. “Oh, dear.” She drew the covers over her breasts. “Have you seen my nightshirt?”
“My shirt, to be precise. I’ll look for it in a moment, though it’s an awful pity to cover up your heavenly body. You look much better with nothing on.”
She blushed. “That isn’t the point. The innkeeper and his staff are stirring downstairs. We’ll have to let them in sooner or later.”
“But not yet.” He tossed some kindling into the hearth to get the fire started, and once it began to burn, tossed in several logs. Then he turned to inspect the clothes he’d hung up to dry last night. They were still a little damp, but would be dry within the hour. “It’s still early. We have time before anyone bothers us. How do you feel?”
She cast him another soft smile. “Very wifely. I enjoyed... you know.”
“So did I,” he said with a chuckle, “very much. But I meant your foot. You didn’t take any laudanum before you fell asleep. Does it still hurt? The lump on your brow seems to have subsided.”
She touched her hand lightly to her forehead. “It’s much better. I hardly feel it now. The foot’s still sore.” She drew back enough of the covers to show her leg. Her ankle was swollen and a deep purplish blue.
He grabbed two pillows and carefully tucked her injured foot atop them. “Try not to put your weight on it, at least for today.”
“But I must see Abner. Will you carry me over to his room later? I wonder how he’s doing.”
“He’s safely on the mend, I think. We would have been alerted otherwise. I instructed Mr. Gwynne to let me know at once if Abner took a turn for the worse.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “That was before you shocked the poor man by locking yourself in with me.” She sighed. “At my behest, no less. What must he think of me?”
“Are you regretting last night?” Damn. He shouldn’t have asked the question, for he might receive an answer he didn’t wish to hear.
She glanced at him in surprise. “No, of course not. Last night was wonderful.”
He nodded. “I thought so, too.”
“I know. You’re strutting around like a dominant male baboon. See, even now you’re casting me a baboon grin, that I-satisfied-my-woman, smug sort of grin.” Then she made a silly monkey face and uttered a monkey sound, and Ian burst out laughing. In that moment, he was happy. Unrestrained. Heartfelt. Happy.
Happy because he was with Dillie.
There was no artifice about the girl, only genuine warmth. She’d given him everything last night and demanded so little in return. He owed her, but not out of a sense of duty. He owed her because she meant something to him. Because he cared about her and didn’t ever wish to hurt her.
He cleared his throat as he picked up the shirt that had lodged between the mattress and the footboard. He handed it to Dillie.
“Will you help me to put it on?” she asked with an impish, glowing smile that reached into her eyes.
“No. If I help, you won’t ever get it on you. I love the way you look right now.” Had he just used the word love? “You’re prettier than a perfect sunrise.” He turned away before he spilled the rest of his thoughts, most of which had to do with his immediate sexual urges. Last night hadn’t been nearly enough for him. He wanted more time with Dillie. Hell, he wanted Dillie.
The frightening part was that he wanted only Dillie.
Not just for now.
Possibly forever.
CHAPTER 13
BY LATE MORNING, Dillie was propped in bed, tended by Mrs. Gwynne and Hilda, a sturdily built older woman with thick, curly hair that appeared quite orange against her mob cap. She recognized Hilda as one of the maids who had taken care of her the night before. “Eat up now, Miss Dillie,” she said with a motherly concern in her bright green eyes. “There isn’t much meat on yer bones.”