situation, was tugging at the offending garment. ‘Take this thing off!’
She started to protest, but he was already ripping it over her head, so that she was left standing naked in front of him, covered by nothing except her goose pimples.
‘This isn’t the time for modesty—unless you want to catch your death,’ he advised, his mouth firming grimly. ‘Here.’ Having tossed the nightdress aside, he was shrugging out of his shirt, revealing his beautiful torso in all its glory. ‘Put this on.’
Obediently Sienna slipped her arms into the silky fabric he was holding up for her. It felt warm and incredibly soft as she clutched her own arms, hugging its warmth to her, shuddering. Grateful. It smelt nice too. Like him. Lemony, tinged with spice, and somewhere in the mix a hint of musk …
‘Now.’ He had her by the elbow and was urging her back to bed, his other hand pulling back the covers. ‘Get back in and—’ He stopped mid-sentence, feeling the damp crumpled sheet. ‘You can’t sleep in that!’ he remonstrated.
Before she realised it he had scooped her up into his arms. ‘We’ve got to get you warm,’ he insisted, ignoring her protests.
It was a miracle, Sienna thought distractedly, that Daisy hadn’t been disturbed by all the commotion. She tried to ignore the feel of that warm, solid wall of muscle that she was being held against as Conan bore her down the landing to another room.
His bedroom! she realised at once, with her heart racing, seeing the enormous bed with its dark satin sheets, only half aware of the exclusive wood and the dark rich array of soft furnishings that defined it as very much a man’s domain.
This time when he ripped back the sheet for her to climb in, he slipped quickly in beside her. Then, turning her onto her side with her back to him, he pulled her shivering body into the warm hard length of his.
She knew she should object—put up some resistance tohis taking control like this. But she needed him right at this moment, and his body was so warm …
Even through her fogged senses she recognised a deep sensuality, but she blotted it out of her mind, letting the warmth of him ease and comfort her, penetrate her shuddering body.
Her breathing was rapid and shallow from the virus, but gradually it slowed and became steadier as her shivers began to subside.
She felt sleepy and so … protected.
It was a half-conscious thought, so transient she didn’t even question the strangeness of it as she drifted off, secure in the strength of his arms and in the cushioning warmth of his body.
CHAPTER SIX
W HEN she awoke she was alone.
Only the depression in the pillow beside hers assured her that she hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. Plus the fact that she was still in his room—and in his bed! she realised with a self-ridiculing little grimace.
Surprisingly, though, she felt considerably better.
But where was he? And, more importantly, where was Daisy?
As her maternal instincts kicked in she scrambled out of bed, and was halfway across the room before she realised that she was still wearing Conan’s shirt. The shirt he had helped her into after stripping her naked! The shirt she had been too shivery and unwell last night even to fasten!
Hearing a sudden soft knock on the door, she raced back to bed, only just managing to cover herself with the dark maroon sheet before the door opened and Claudette came in.
‘Monsieur Ryder’s instructions,’ she declared in her heavily accented voice as she set a breakfast tray down on a marble-topped coffee table.
There was a jug of orange juice, and coffee in a silver pot, its aroma drifting tantalisingly towards Sienna. There were croissants too, she noticed, still warm from the oven, their buttery, freshly baked smell making her mouth water.
She was hungry, she realised, after eating scarcely anything the previous day.
‘Claudette? Where’s Daisy?’
The little maid paused in pouring juice into a crystal tumbler. ‘I am
She started to protest, but he was already ripping it over her head, so that she was left standing naked in front of him, covered by nothing except her goose pimples.
‘This isn’t the time for modesty—unless you want to catch your death,’ he advised, his mouth firming grimly. ‘Here.’ Having tossed the nightdress aside, he was shrugging out of his shirt, revealing his beautiful torso in all its glory. ‘Put this on.’
Obediently Sienna slipped her arms into the silky fabric he was holding up for her. It felt warm and incredibly soft as she clutched her own arms, hugging its warmth to her, shuddering. Grateful. It smelt nice too. Like him. Lemony, tinged with spice, and somewhere in the mix a hint of musk …
‘Now.’ He had her by the elbow and was urging her back to bed, his other hand pulling back the covers. ‘Get back in and—’ He stopped mid-sentence, feeling the damp crumpled sheet. ‘You can’t sleep in that!’ he remonstrated.
Before she realised it he had scooped her up into his arms. ‘We’ve got to get you warm,’ he insisted, ignoring her protests.
It was a miracle, Sienna thought distractedly, that Daisy hadn’t been disturbed by all the commotion. She tried to ignore the feel of that warm, solid wall of muscle that she was being held against as Conan bore her down the landing to another room.
His bedroom! she realised at once, with her heart racing, seeing the enormous bed with its dark satin sheets, only half aware of the exclusive wood and the dark rich array of soft furnishings that defined it as very much a man’s domain.
This time when he ripped back the sheet for her to climb in, he slipped quickly in beside her. Then, turning her onto her side with her back to him, he pulled her shivering body into the warm hard length of his.
She knew she should object—put up some resistance tohis taking control like this. But she needed him right at this moment, and his body was so warm …
Even through her fogged senses she recognised a deep sensuality, but she blotted it out of her mind, letting the warmth of him ease and comfort her, penetrate her shuddering body.
Her breathing was rapid and shallow from the virus, but gradually it slowed and became steadier as her shivers began to subside.
She felt sleepy and so … protected.
It was a half-conscious thought, so transient she didn’t even question the strangeness of it as she drifted off, secure in the strength of his arms and in the cushioning warmth of his body.
CHAPTER SIX
W HEN she awoke she was alone.
Only the depression in the pillow beside hers assured her that she hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. Plus the fact that she was still in his room—and in his bed! she realised with a self-ridiculing little grimace.
Surprisingly, though, she felt considerably better.
But where was he? And, more importantly, where was Daisy?
As her maternal instincts kicked in she scrambled out of bed, and was halfway across the room before she realised that she was still wearing Conan’s shirt. The shirt he had helped her into after stripping her naked! The shirt she had been too shivery and unwell last night even to fasten!
Hearing a sudden soft knock on the door, she raced back to bed, only just managing to cover herself with the dark maroon sheet before the door opened and Claudette came in.
‘Monsieur Ryder’s instructions,’ she declared in her heavily accented voice as she set a breakfast tray down on a marble-topped coffee table.
There was a jug of orange juice, and coffee in a silver pot, its aroma drifting tantalisingly towards Sienna. There were croissants too, she noticed, still warm from the oven, their buttery, freshly baked smell making her mouth water.
She was hungry, she realised, after eating scarcely anything the previous day.
‘Claudette? Where’s Daisy?’
The little maid paused in pouring juice into a crystal tumbler. ‘I am
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