Rules of Passion by Sara Bennett - Greentree Sisters 02 - Rules of Passion Page B

I’m going to say yet,” she told him mildly.
    “I don’t care.”
    “I was going to ask if you wished to rest your head on my lap. It might be softer, and I could shield you from some of the worst bumps.”
    Max glared at her, his eyes narrow slits gleaming with bad temper. “You wish me to rest my head on your lap? Would you like to stroke my brow, too?”
    “Do you want me to?” Marietta asked, making her eyes wide and innocent.
    He snorted, and then groaned as his headache stabbed sheer agony into the echoing vault that was his skull. Although Max had his share of illnesses and accidents—some would say more than his fair share of the latter—such pain was new to him. He’d never suffered from headaches—an innocuous name for what was currently going on in his head. Why on earth had he declined the doctor’s offer of a hefty dose of laudanum? What had he been trying to prove? Sheer pigheaded pride and stubbornness he supposed, the same stubborn pride that was preventing him from resting his head on Marietta Greentree’s delightful lap.
    Without warning the coach rattled over some uneven cobbles, and suddenly his pride dissolved. “Do it then,” he said between white lips. “Please.”
    Looking concerned rather than triumphant, Marietta slipped into the seat beside him, and settled herself carefully among the cushions. She lifted his head, gently, and Max raised himself up with a muttered curse. After a brief, painful period of shuffling about, Max’s head was resting on her lap, Marietta was bracing one arm over his shoulders to help steady him, while her other hand lay upon his brow. Her fingers seemed naturally to curl in the threads of his dark hair, as she stroked it back from the bandage.
    “How is that, Lord Roseby?” she said sweetly.
    Was she teasing him? Mocking his arrogance? Max didn’t care. His pain was still excruciating but somehow it didn’t matter as much now that Marietta’s scent was all around him, and he was enveloped by her soft body. Max sighed as she brushedher fingertips lightly over his skin, almost a caress. Turning his face towards her, he snuggled closer. The swell of her breast was heavy against his cheek. As Marietta held him against the roll and jolt of the coach, he wanted to press even closer. He wanted to…to unbutton her bodice and put his lips on her bare skin. To run his tongue over the lush curves of her breasts.
    The hot rush of desire surprised him, but at least it helped him to forget his headache.
    “Your coach needs new springs,” she said in that know-it-all voice he hated.
    “Can’t afford ’em,” he murmured against the stiff cloth of her bodice, and the soft swell of her breast. He had never felt anything quite so tantalizing, being this close and yet knowing that he was unable, incapable, of taking advantage of it.
    Take advantage? Max blinked and tried to clear his mind. No, no, he didn’t take advantage, he was a gentleman. Wasn’t he? Yes, he was, despite his new scandalous status.
    “Oh. So you can’t afford new springs for your coach, and yet you can afford a visit to Aphrodite’s? I don’t call that sound economics.”
    He turned his head so that he could look up and see her face properly, and wasn’t so distracted by other things. “Is this any of your business, Miss Greentree?”
    She fixed him with an intent look. “It may be. Which girl were you going to request at Aphrodite’s? Before you saw me, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    She sounded smug, and he supposed she had the right to be. He had offered to pay for an entire nightof her company. What in God’s name had possessed him? Some form of madness, that was certain. Well, he was cured of it now, Max told himself, at the same time snuggling in against her. She smelled of roses and woman, and despite her stays, she was incredibly soft…
    He opened one eye and looked up at her. She appeared to be waiting for something, but when he tried to remember what it was he got