Page 40 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"Our arrangement, for one. Separate rooms don't exactly suggest marital bliss."

"Then perhaps we should work on appearing more... married."

The words hung between them, loaded with possibility. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she found herself swaying toward him, drawn by something she couldn't name.

"That would be dangerous," he said softly.

"Why?"

"Because I might forget it's just an appearance."

Her breath caught. "Would that be so terrible?"

"Yes." But he didn't move away. If anything, he moved closer, his hand rising to cup her cheek. "You don't know what you're suggesting."

"Then tell me."

"Arabella..."

A crash from somewhere above them shattered the moment. They jumped apart as they heard footsteps, followed by what sounded like Mrs. Fielding having hysterics.

"Now what?" Lucien muttered, already moving toward the door.

They found the source of the commotion in the guest wing. The windows had been left open, and the afternoon's brewing storm had sent wind and rain cascading into one of the unused bedrooms. Curtains whipped like banners, and papers from a writing desk had scattered everywhere.

"The carpet is ruined!" Mrs. Fielding wailed.

"It's just water," Arabella said, moving to help gather the scattered papers but getting wet as the rain kept coming into the room. "It will dry."

"But the damage..."

"Will be minimal if we act quickly." Lucien was already directing footmen to close the windows and move the furniture. But something was not quite right with one of the windows and it kept opening again and again. "Have the carpet taken up and dried properly."

They worked together for the next hour, saving what they could and assessing the damage. By the time they finished, the storm had worsened, thunder rolling across the sky like divine displeasure.

"You're soaked," Lucien observed, and Arabella realized he was right. Her dress clung to her in ways that would have been scandalous if half the household hadn't been equally drenched.

"So are you."

His white shirt had become nearly transparent, revealing the lean muscles beneath. She tried not to stare and failed miserably.

"We should change," he said when they were left alone, his voice rougher than usual.

"Yes."

Neither moved.

Lightning flashed, illuminating his face in sharp relief. The scar stood out pale against his skin, and without thinking, she reached up to touch it.

He caught her wrist. "Don't."

"Why?"

"Because if you touch me now, I won't be able to stop."

"Stop what?"

"This."