Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) by Delilah Marvelle Page A

“Knowing that neither of us can be trusted, you are still going to insist I get into bed with you?” he asked, spacing his words evenly.
    A pulsing knot rose within her throat. Being ravaged by him wouldn’t be the worst thing to have happened to her in seven years. “I trust you.”
    He pushed out an uneven breath as if buying time. “Did you latch the door?”
    He knew she did. She tightened her hold on the linen. “Yes.”
    He removed each boot from his feet, letting each thud heavily as it landed on the floor. “Do you mind if I undress before I get into bed?”
    Her heart felt as if it were going to burst into pieces. “No.”
    He peeled off his linen shirt, all of his smooth, well-defined muscles rippling from the movement. His dark, damp hair fell into his eyes as he bundled the shirt. He tossed it, causing the bulk in his arms to flex, emphasizing a fresh, angry scar on his bare left shoulder and now stood only in trousers slung overly low on narrow hips.
    Her knees locked together and the room almost swayed. It was the bathhouse all over again. Not that she was complaining. Trying desperately to focus, she asked, “What happened to your shoulder?”
    He glanced at it. “I was shot a few months ago for protecting a man who did not deserve to die. It is what made me walk away from the life I was leading. It made me realize I was promoting the violence.”
    There was something remarkable about a man willing to get shot for another man. She held his gaze. “Does it still hurt?”
    His rugged features softened. “No.” Edging in, he bent down near her, his bare chest and the bulk of his arms obstructing all view. He leaned in close. And then closer, still. So close, the heated scent of his soaped skin penetrated the air between them. “If you were not a lady, would I have a chance?”
    She inhaled sharply at the unexpected question. Something told her he was about to kiss away everything she had ever known. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
    “No. It is best you do not answer.” He straightened, leaned over to the side table beside the bed and extended his muscled arm toward the lamp. There was a click of metal from the oil lamp wick being turned down to extinguish the flame.
    Darkness blanketed the room.
    “You are very brave for allowing this,” he rumbled out.
    A bubble of a laugh escaped her. “You haven’t gotten into bed yet.”
    “Allow me to change that.” The straw tick shifted.
    She scooted over, gripping the edge of the tick so she wouldn’t fall off.
    He stretched out beside her and moved closer, causing her body to tilt toward him.
    Her nails dug deeper into the tick beneath her.
    He shifted closer and using a large hand, took hold of her hip in the darkness and yanked her backside against him, pressing her body against his own.
    Cecilia’s eyes widened, drowning in the heat of his soap-scented body. His front was against her backside.
    He was quiet for a moment, then stated what they already knew. “This bed was not made for two.”
    That was an understatement.
    He dragged up the linens against their bodies a bit more, tucking it against the curves of her body. “Are you warmer?”
    Why did he have to be so divine? “Yes.”
    “Good.” He shifted against her, his hand gently grazing her hair in the darkness. “You are a very stubborn woman.”
    Her entire body pulsed. “I am told it is one of my best qualities.”
    “Something tells me you have far better qualities.” His touch drifted down from her hair. He smoothed the curve of her hip with an open palm, his fingers dragging against the linen that separated his hand from her skin.
    Her heart thudded and melted all at once. In that moment she knew without any doubt that if he initiated anything, she would kneel.
    He kept smoothing the curve of her hip, the tips of his fingers slowly digging into her and the linen more and more.
    She wanted to faint from want.
    His hand left her hip and skimmed down her arm. “Do