from him, and yet she was grateful that he didn’t mean to force her to honor their vows just then.
When Tess caught sight of Rotham, though, she came up short. Only partly dressed, he lounged in a wing chair, drinking from what looked to be a brandy snifter. Although he still wore his satin knee breeches and stockings, he’d shed his coat and cravat and shirt and had removed his shoes.
Her nerves ran riot at the sight of his bare torso. She wished he would don a dressing robe. It would be far easier to pretend indifference to him if he were not half naked—
Abruptly, Tess scolded herself. Much of the female population of England wanted the sinfully handsome Devil Duke. Perversely, she was determined she would not.
Even so, it was easier to mentally voice such a principle than to stand by it. Simply being alone in the same bedchamber with Rotham made her dizzy and incoherent. It didn’t help that he was surveying her as if he could see through her concealing dressing gown. In turn, she tried not to look at his bare, smoothly muscular chest and instead forced her gaze back to his face. His features were leaner and harder than Richard’s—
Irritated at herself for making such comparisons, Tess shut off her thoughts and strolled across the bedchamber to hold her chilled hands out to the fire. Yet her eyes were drawn irresistibly back to Rotham. She felt a stomach-tightening awareness of him as a man. His broad shoulders, the long, elegant muscles of hisbody, the lithe strength that seemed to radiate from him almost as an extension of his powerful personality, all captured her attention with bewitching ease.
He was entirely too compelling for her peace of mind, devil take him. And he knew very well he was affecting her. He looked at her in that perceptive way of his, as if realizing her disinterest was sheer bravado.
Heaven help her if he realized how fast her heart was beating, Tess reflected. It was bad enough that he thought her a nervous rabbit.
She winced, remembering how her vow to keep out of his bed had amused him. At least he was right about one thing. Since his bed was massive, it would be easier for them to stay on their respective sides.
His low voice broke her chaotic ruminations. “Come here, Tess.”
“Why?” she asked rather suspiciously.
He held up the brandy snifter in his hand, which was three quarters full with amber liquor.
Eyeing the glass, she pasted a half smile on her lips. “First sherry, then wine with dinner, and now brandy. Are you trying to make me foxed?”
“I am trying to settle your nerves.”
Agreeing with his goal, Tess moved toward him, her slippers making little sound on the Aubusson carpet.
“Now drink,” he ordered.
She took the glass he offered her and dutifully sipped the brandy, welcoming the burn. Perhaps the potent liquor would indeed help to soothe her rattled nerves, or at a minimum, help her to sleep.
“I don’t normally retire so early,” she admitted,making the observation to alleviate the awkward silence.
“Oh? What do you do in the evenings?”
“After dinner I usually spend time with Mrs. Croft, assuming I can lure her from her studio. If not, I keep myself occupied writing letters or with needlework. And I frequently read before bedtime.”
She also often wrote in her diary, but she was not about to tell Rotham that, especially when he had recently become the prime subject of her private musings. She’d written four pages about him just since yesterday, after her life had suddenly turned upside down.
“Did you bring any reading material with you?” Rotham asked.
“Yes, but it is in my own bedchamber.”
“It won’t do for you to go traipsing down the corridor to fetch it.”
“I suppose not,” Tess conceded.
“We can always sit here and converse.”
She didn’t think that a wise idea, not when she was so conscious of his bare chest. She drank another long swallow of brandy and tried not to wince at the searing sting in her
When Tess caught sight of Rotham, though, she came up short. Only partly dressed, he lounged in a wing chair, drinking from what looked to be a brandy snifter. Although he still wore his satin knee breeches and stockings, he’d shed his coat and cravat and shirt and had removed his shoes.
Her nerves ran riot at the sight of his bare torso. She wished he would don a dressing robe. It would be far easier to pretend indifference to him if he were not half naked—
Abruptly, Tess scolded herself. Much of the female population of England wanted the sinfully handsome Devil Duke. Perversely, she was determined she would not.
Even so, it was easier to mentally voice such a principle than to stand by it. Simply being alone in the same bedchamber with Rotham made her dizzy and incoherent. It didn’t help that he was surveying her as if he could see through her concealing dressing gown. In turn, she tried not to look at his bare, smoothly muscular chest and instead forced her gaze back to his face. His features were leaner and harder than Richard’s—
Irritated at herself for making such comparisons, Tess shut off her thoughts and strolled across the bedchamber to hold her chilled hands out to the fire. Yet her eyes were drawn irresistibly back to Rotham. She felt a stomach-tightening awareness of him as a man. His broad shoulders, the long, elegant muscles of hisbody, the lithe strength that seemed to radiate from him almost as an extension of his powerful personality, all captured her attention with bewitching ease.
He was entirely too compelling for her peace of mind, devil take him. And he knew very well he was affecting her. He looked at her in that perceptive way of his, as if realizing her disinterest was sheer bravado.
Heaven help her if he realized how fast her heart was beating, Tess reflected. It was bad enough that he thought her a nervous rabbit.
She winced, remembering how her vow to keep out of his bed had amused him. At least he was right about one thing. Since his bed was massive, it would be easier for them to stay on their respective sides.
His low voice broke her chaotic ruminations. “Come here, Tess.”
“Why?” she asked rather suspiciously.
He held up the brandy snifter in his hand, which was three quarters full with amber liquor.
Eyeing the glass, she pasted a half smile on her lips. “First sherry, then wine with dinner, and now brandy. Are you trying to make me foxed?”
“I am trying to settle your nerves.”
Agreeing with his goal, Tess moved toward him, her slippers making little sound on the Aubusson carpet.
“Now drink,” he ordered.
She took the glass he offered her and dutifully sipped the brandy, welcoming the burn. Perhaps the potent liquor would indeed help to soothe her rattled nerves, or at a minimum, help her to sleep.
“I don’t normally retire so early,” she admitted,making the observation to alleviate the awkward silence.
“Oh? What do you do in the evenings?”
“After dinner I usually spend time with Mrs. Croft, assuming I can lure her from her studio. If not, I keep myself occupied writing letters or with needlework. And I frequently read before bedtime.”
She also often wrote in her diary, but she was not about to tell Rotham that, especially when he had recently become the prime subject of her private musings. She’d written four pages about him just since yesterday, after her life had suddenly turned upside down.
“Did you bring any reading material with you?” Rotham asked.
“Yes, but it is in my own bedchamber.”
“It won’t do for you to go traipsing down the corridor to fetch it.”
“I suppose not,” Tess conceded.
“We can always sit here and converse.”
She didn’t think that a wise idea, not when she was so conscious of his bare chest. She drank another long swallow of brandy and tried not to wince at the searing sting in her
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