Undressed by the Rebel. Alison Roberts
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jaw, dark full brows…the face of a man looked down at her.
He’d grown larger, too. His shoulders were wide and straight, his chest full and muscular. Her nose barely reached his chin.
His dark hair was damp, hanging over his forehead. The white shirt she’d seen him in moments ago was buttoned now, but the tail hung loose and the collar stood open. She glimpsed the fabric of his white cotton undershirt and his coarse, black chest hair curling over the top.
He also wore trousers.
He must have hopped into them and hurried after her, because even now he was pulling up his suspenders.
A moment passed while he just looked at her, as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to say, or perhaps couldn’t bring himself to say it. Amanda didn’t know which. All she knew for certain was that her mouth had grown so dry she couldn’t have answered had he asked her anything.
Then he smiled. It pulled at the corners of his mouth, lifting them ever so slightly.
Amanda fought back her own answering grin and wagged her finger at his legs. “I see you found your trousers.”
Behind her, she heard Dolly approach, and sensed her craning her neck for a better view.
Nick’s smile widened and he glanced down at himself. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize…”
Amanda crossed her arms in front of her. “You didn’t realize? Is that because you routinely have so many women in your bedchamber?”
“Only ones I’m related to.” His grin turned devilish. “Unfortunately.”
The heat inside Amanda increased, spread through her, weakening her knees. The mere presence of this man two feet away called to her, urged her to move closer, as if he somehow held a power over her she could not resist.
And didn’t want to resist.
She took a step backward. She could have sworn he leaned forward, but maybe it was her imagination.
“So, anyway,” Nick said, “I came to apologize for my state of dress just now.”
“The lack of it, you mean?”
He grinned again. “Yes. I hope you weren’t offended.”
“Traumatized beyond recovery,” Amanda declared, hoping the sarcasm in her voice could somehow take the edge off her churning emotions. “I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the day in bed.”
His grin blossomed devilishly and his gaze dipped to her toes, then rose to her face once more in a swift, hot sweep. Amanda’s cheeks burned as his eyes caressed her.
“Well, if there’s any way I can assist you in that, please let me know.” Nick gave her a nod and headed back down the hall.
Amanda just stood there for a moment, watching him walk away. Long legs, straight back, muscular—
“Oh, gracious.” What was she doing? She slammed the door, fanning her face with her hand.
“That was him, wasn’t it?” Dolly asked, her eyes bulging. “That was Mr. Nick?”
All Amanda could manage was a nod.
“Did you see that man’s feet?” Dolly asked, more an announcement than a question. “Land sakes, he has the biggest feet I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you know what that means.”
Amanda’s face flushed anew.
“Help me, Lord,” Dolly beseeched, turning her face upward and clutching her hands to her chest. “I am in love.”
“Only twenty minutes ago you said you didn’t like Nick.”
Dolly turned to her as if she’d lost her mind. “Did you see that man?”
Amanda reined in her own runaway thoughts, forcing herself to regain her composure. “He was pleasant looking.”
“Pleasant looking? Lordy, Miz Amanda, that ain’t the half of it.” Dolly nodded her head wisely. “He was giving you the look.”
“The look?”
“You know what I mean,” Dolly said. “He got an eyeful of you, and he liked what he saw. Believe me, I know.”
Yes, Dolly did know. She had an uncanny ability to read people’s expressions. Her intuition ran far deeper than Amanda’s ever had.
But Amanda didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be right.
“I came here with the intention of avoiding Nick,” Amanda declared. “That’s what I intend to do. Now, I’d better get on with the day. Maybe I can hurry this wedding along, get it over with sooner, somehow. The quicker I get back home the happier I’ll be.”
“You’re gonna avoid Mr. Nick?” Dolly gave her a knowing look. “We’ll just see about that….”
Nothing like making a good impression.
Nick gave his necktie a tweak as he trotted downstairs, cringing inwardly at what had happened in his room. A beautiful woman in front of him and he’d had no trousers on.
He paused at the bottom of the steps. The situation could have turned out much more embarrassing. In fact, it almost had.
The warmth that had simmered in him since Amanda had sashayed out of his bedchamber increased a little more. She’d had on a dressing gown, buttoned up to her throat and cinched at her waist. But those curves of hers, hips and breasts clearly defined by the flow of fabric, with none of the armor of underwear most women insisted upon wearing to disguise their shape and keep him from seeing their figure…
When he’d gone to Amanda’s bedchamber to apologize, he’d gotten close enough to smell her. He’d almost made a complete fool of himself all over again.
Nick ground his teeth together and hurried toward the breakfast room. Enough of those thoughts. He had a lot to do today, and remembering a beautiful woman like Amanda in her dressing gown would only keep him from thinking straight.
The comfortable, sunny yellow breakfast room was situated at the back of the house. Windows offered views of the grounds. Since it was early, none of the other houseguests were up yet, which suited Nick fine.
A servant in a gray uniform and crisp white apron came in as Nick sat down at the head of the table. She filled his cup from the silver service on the buffet and presented him with the morning newspaper. He told her what he wanted for breakfast and she left again.
Unfurling the paper, he reached for his cup. A fragrance tickled his nose. It wasn’t the coffee.
Amanda stood in the doorway.
In contrast to earlier, her hair was done up atop her head, with little tendrils curling at her ears. She wore a pale blue gown. The skirt was drawn across her front, then lifted high to a bustle in the back. The toes of her high buttoned shoes peeked from beneath the skirt. Leg-o’-mutton sleeves on her jacket tapered to her wrists.
“Good morning.” Nick lurched to his feet, catching the newspaper before it slipped to the floor.
A few seconds passed while Amanda just stood there, as if reluctant to enter the room. Finally, she did.
“I see you’ve dressed for breakfast,” she said.
Nick stepped away from the table, looked down and tapped his toes on the floor. “Shoes and socks this time.”
She glanced down and he could have sworn her cheeks colored. Odd reaction to his feet, he thought.
Nick held the chair to his immediate right, and Amanda lowered herself into it. He lingered for a moment, looking down at her, held captive by the long line of her neck, the loose curls of her fine hair, her slim shoulders and the scent that wafted up.
“Is something wrong?” Amanda asked, turning her head to look back at him.
“No,