Amanda McCabe – The Runaway Countess (страница 10)

This had to be Jane’s own room, Hayden realised with surprise. He recognised the silver hairbrush on the dressing table; he had run it through The silken strands of her hair several times, winding the long, soft length of it around his wrist. The smell of her lilac perfume still hung in the air.

He had forgotten what it was like to live with a lady, to be surrounded by cosy, feminine clutter. Why would she put him in here of all places?

The door opened and Jane herself appeared there. Emma peeked in behind her, her eyes wide with curiosity until Jane gently but firmly closed the door between them.

‘The doctor said your leg is not broken, but the wound is a rather deep one. You’ll have to stay still for a few days and let it heal,’ she said. Her face was as still and smooth as a marble statue’s, giving away nothing of her real thoughts.

Nothing about how she felt to have him in her home.

‘Is this your own room, Jane?’ he asked. His voice came out too rough, almost angry, and he felt immediately guilty when she flinched. He had never known quite how to behave around her—except in the bedchamber, when they knew how to be together only too well.

‘Yes,’ she said. She plucked up the silky dressing gown from the bed and stashed it behind the screen. ‘I’m afraid we have few guests here at Barton, so only my room and Emma’s are ready to be occupied. I can stay with her tonight and we’ll tidy another chamber in the morning.’

‘I can sleep in your drawing room,’ he said, forcing himself to be gentler, quieter. Jane’s face was turned from him so he could see only her profile, that pure, serene, classical line of her nose and mouth he had always loved.

He suddenly longed to push back from the chaise, to grab her into his arms and pull her against him. To kiss her soft lips until she melted against him again and that ice that seemed to surround her melted. Until she was his Jane again.

But he knew He couldn’t do that. The walls between them had been built too strong, too thick, brick by brick. He had done that himself. He had wanted it that way.

But he still wanted to kiss her.

‘You’re ill,’ she said. ‘I’m not helping you all the way downstairs again just so you can injure yourself once more.’ She took a small bottle out of The pocket of the white apron she wore over her pretty green dress and put it down on the desk. ‘The doctor left that to help you sleep. I’ll bring you some water and something to eat. You must be hungry after your journey.’

‘Jane,’ Hayden called as she turned towards the door.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her hand poised on the latch. There was a flash of something, some emotion, deep in her hazel eyes, but it was gone before he could decipher it.

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