Danger Wears White by Lynne Connolly Page A

stilled and her head bowed. His hands itched to remove that white cap that covered most of her hair. He wanted to feel the strands against his fingers. “I’m the housekeeper,” she said eventually.
    A position of responsibility and some status, all of which she’d imperiled by bringing him here. “You must be very busy during the day. You can’t do this. You must be exhausted.” He determined to make her rest tonight. Nothing else.
    That resolve dissolved into mush when she turned around, smiling. “Not too exhausted.”
    Her shy smile killed all his resolves stone dead. He crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around her. When she lifted her face, he kissed her, tasting her with the avidity of a man dying of thirst, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, claiming her.
    With considerable effort, he tore his lips away from hers. “You need to rest.” He said it as much to remind himself as for her.
    “I’ll rest when you’re gone.” Melancholy laced her tones, her musical voice dipping.
    “I’m not abandoning you.”
    She placed a hand on his chest in a way he was already anticipating with pleasure. He covered it with his own so she wouldn’t pull it away. His heart thumped against their joined hands, hers now completely engulfed in his.
    “You must.”
    “I will not. I’m retreating to regroup. I’ll come back.” He squeezed her hand. “There might be consequences from our actions. Pregnancy.”
    There, he’d said it.
    Her eyes widened. “You were careful.”
    Of course a country girl would know, even a virgin. Virgin until last night, that was. Satisfaction filled him where shame should have taken its place, but the emotion was undeniable. It would have its way. “It’s not infallible. I won’t abandon you. Don’t ask it of me.”
    “But I don’t want to live abroad.”
    Of course. If he were a Jacobite he’d take her into exile, probably Rome, where the Jacobite court currently resided. “I don’t want to take you there. Be assured, I won’t leave you to your fate.”
    “That sounds ominous.”
    It did. He laughed and kissed her again, his heart lighter now he’d told her what he intended. He would make love to her now, and return to claim her as soon as he could. She was his, and the heat they engendered together in bed had no comparison. That would keep him warm for many nights to come.
    She sighed, a gentle puff of air against his cheek when their lips parted. He led her to the bed and sat her down on it, taking the opportunity to do as he’d longed and unfastened the strings of her cap. He laid it aside on the chair, because she would need it and maids didn’t have the resources their mistresses did.
    After that, she found it easy to take off her jacket, loosen her stays, and help her take off her skirts. Going down on one knee, he unfastened her garter and gently rolled down her stockings. Her shoes were soft slippers, easy to remove. He pressed a kiss to the upper slope of her foot. Such a pretty foot, the nails little shells nestling on the soft pink skin. Damn, he was getting poetic. Just as well he hadn’t articulated that aloud.
    Except, when he glanced up at her face, she blushed. Oh God, he’d said it to her. Compared her toenails to shells, just like some blasted poet.
    “That was sweet. Nobody has said anything like that to me before.”
    “They should.” Stupid to say it but even worse to take it back. “You’re very lovely, Emmy.”
    “Thank you.” At least she didn’t deny it this time. Who had told her she wasn’t beautiful? Because she undoubtedly was. Beauty could be a problem for a maid. Especially with men like him around.
    Guilt washed over him, and he moved away to put her stockings and garters on the pile. The garters were pretty ones, embroidered in silk thread with forget-me-nots. Fine for a servant. Perhaps she’d stitched them herself. Imagining her sitting by a fire in winter, plying a fine needle gave him yearnings so foreign that