Page 74 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“You’re safe here, Miss Honeyfield,” he said, hoping he sounded reassuring. “I don’t know what you’re running from, but I won’t let no one hurt ye, and you’ve nowt to fear from me. I promise. I’ve never laid a hand on a woman what didn’t want me to, and I don’t mean to start now. You’ll get warm, have something to eat, and get some rest. Ye may take my bed… I’ll sleep down here. In the morning we can see what’s to be done.”

There was a long silence. Ned could hear nothing above the sound of his heart thudding and the crackle of the flames as the fire grew stronger.

“You’re very kind, Mr…?”

“Hardy,” he said, his name spoken on a breath of relief. “Edward Hardy, but most folks call me Ned.”

“You can turn around now, Mr Hardy.”

He did so, the breath chased from his lungs once more at seeing such a beautiful woman sitting in his chair, by his hearth. She was shivering, though, clutching the quilt about her and Ned cursed himself, suddenly terrified of what might happen if she took ill. She looked too fine, too well-bred to resist any kind of ailment.

“We need to get ye warm.”

He moved instinctively, as if she was a newborn lamb, fighting for life and helpless in his hands. Sinking to his knees before her, he reached for one of his wife’s petticoats. The fabric was worn, nothing like the lacy bits of finery that had puddled on the floor in front of the fire. Ned forced himself not to look at them, not to allow the excess of femininity to distract him from the task of warming her. She needed help, like any of the creatures in his keeping, and he’d give it—for her own good—and damn him to perdition if he enjoyed it too much.

He took hold of one foot, ignoring her gasp of shock as he wrapped it in the soft cloth of the petticoat and began to gently rub her toes.

“Mr Hardy!” she exclaimed.

“Hush, lass,” he said, concentrating on bringing warmth back to her feet. “Once your feet are warm, the rest of ye will follow.”

At first, she was still and unyielding beneath his hands, and he dared not look up for fear of what he’d see in her eyes. Little by little, though, she relaxed, the tension easing out of her as he rubbed and massaged first one foot, then the next. It was painfully intimate, and Ned stamped on the surge of longing that rose inside him, the desire to keep such a beautiful creature near him. It was so long since he’d touched a woman.

He’d been faithful to his wife and not looked elsewhere, despite her lack of interest in him. Ned had made her a vow, and he took such things seriously. Since then… well, perhaps he was a coward, but he’d been wary of trying again. He knew he could take another wife. There were women who would be eager enough to take on a successful farmer, yet did they really want him? Though he knew it was foolish if he married again, he wanted it to be different, he wanted to be loved.

Yet Miss Honeyfield’s beauty was the kind that could give a fellow dangerous ideas and make a man act the fool, but she was a lady, and in trouble. She certainly wasn’t interested in such a low-born fellow as he was. He wasn’t fit to touch her, though he wasn’t beyond wishing he were.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice too loud after such a long silence, even though he’d pitched it low so as not to startle her.

“Much, thank you.”

He glanced up then to find her watching him and he remembered again that he was in his nightshirt.

“Perhaps you can manage to change the rest of your things?” he suggested. “I… I’d better….” Ned looked away from her and gestured to his nightshirt with a grimace. “I’ll leave ye be for a moment. I won’t come in again without knocking first.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and he felt the words sink into his skin.

She was so softly spoken, her accent so cultured, that her voice seemed sweet and musical to his ear.

Ned nodded and hurried out of the room.