Page 76 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“Don’t ye wanna travel with him?” Diggins asked.

More than she wanted to breathe, but Myrle had almost died. She needed to make sure he got back onto his feet. Still, she could not lie. “Yes, I want to be with him very much.”

“Ye’d stay to take care of me instead of goin’ with the man you love?” Myrle asked.

She bit her lip.

“I’m gonna take care of the big lug,” Diggins said. “You go help the captain.”

“Yep, Miss Madalene. You go with the captain. That’s where yer heart is,” Myrle said.

“But the duchess… I don’t think she likes you two very much.”

Diggins waved a hand. “We’ll be just big enough arses that she can wave her sword at us. Not so much, that she’ll make us leave. Hell, she’ll have so much fun she’ll fall in love with us.”

Maddie sighed.

“Go, Miss Madalene,” Myrle said. “We’ll try to embrace all that fancy people etiquette without ye.”

Oh, how she wanted to leave with Stephen in the morning to make sure his name was cleared. Then she could go to her Aunt Henrietta. “Are you sure you will be fine?”

“I got lots of food,” Myrle said.

“And I got my best mate,” Diggins said.

“Do you think they will get me some livery that fits me big body?” asked Myrle.

“Absolutely,” Maddie said. Surely, they could find a tailor with special skills. She must also remember to ask about baths. The men were in desperate needs of a scrubbing.

She kissed both men on the forehead and left them with goofy grins on their dirt-covered faces.

Finding her way to her chamber was easier than she’d thought. Maybe because Stephen was only two rooms away and their hearts were connected? She rolled her eyes. My heavens, she was silly and sentimental—as well as exceedingly happy to have had a change in plans.

She stared at his door as she smoothed her skirts. The poor man needed sleep, but crawling into bed beside him and holding him as he dreamed would nary do harm.

She would be so quiet. As silent as a butterfly dancing on a flower. As light as a feather fluttering onto a pillow.

She opened his door slowly and took her time closing it. No sound at all. However, the flame in the hearth had died, and the room was so dark she would struggle to make it to the bed without bumping into something. Italian ballerinas were the most graceful creatures on earth prancing around inreleve´. She rose onto her toes and stepped.

No creaking floorboards.

She held her breath, and ballerina-glided another step. Silence. She was quite good at this. Now, for step three—

Aggressive arms grasped her. She gasped. Someone was in Stephen’s room assaulting her! What if they had harmed him?

“Madalene?” Stephen’s deep voice caressed her ear.

She relaxed against him and giggled. Almost being shot earlier must still have her addle-brained.

“I thought someone was attacking me,” she said.

He growled. “Someoneisattacking you.”

Oh, dear lord. His guttural sound landed between her thighs.

He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Her chin hit his bare flesh. Naked flesh? If only she could see because it seemed she was about to be ravished. Or was the word ravaged? She’d never actually seen the official definitions. What did it matter? Both sounded delightful.

He threw her onto the bed. She squealed as she bounced lightly on the mattress.