9. November, 1826

9

NOVEMBER, 1826

NO. 3 GROSVENOR STREET

S aida slid her rushing curricle to a dramatic flourish of a stop in front of No. 3 Grosvenor Street.

The grooms took control of the horses whilst Young Rutherford jumped down from his outside seat and hastened to be ready to help her and carry her packages into the townhouse.

Hamish slid to ground from the high seat with a deep sigh and stretched out his tall frame. "After this afternoon's exertions, I believe I should attend a mass somewhere to give thanks for surviving an afternoon out with Miss Hossini."

He pushed Young Rutherford aside and grasped her by her waist just as she was about to climb down on her own. His hands were warm against her stays beneath her stylish claret redingote. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed his touch. She'd almost decided to spend the rest of the day in a fit of pique in her bedchamber. She didn't want to see anyone.

His hands felt so good as he lifted her to the walk in front of her townhouse that she decided her fit of pique could wait. She'd much rather spend the day punishing Hamish in her bedchamber. He'd been naughty for interfering in the colossal mess at the milliner's shop. He could have been arrested along with her. His reputation as a London physician would have been ruined. He needed to be punished. Her lips widened into a wicked smile when he placed her back onto her feet on the ground.

She turned just as Toplofty opened the door for them and bowed low. On her way up the steps, she extended a gloved hand behind her, and Hamish immediately grasped her hand. She was certain he knew what she was thinking, because the same carnal thoughts pulsing through her body were probably pulsing through his.

Once inside, she climbed the staircase, stopping only at the first floor to detour back to Hamish's bright yellow bedchamber. He must have been of a similar mind, because he never loosened his grip on her hand.

Once they were inside his room, she could hear the click of the door locking behind them. She tossed her tiny, perfect claret silk driving hat onto the bed before backing firmly into his arms.

Without a word, he turned her around and began patiently working at all the braided fasteners down the front of her dark claret carriage dress.

Only low murmurs could be heard, or the occasional whimper from her when he finally reached the layer of her matching embroidered muslin frock beneath the warm outer layer of the carriage dress.

He took his time with the tiny fabric-covered buttons fasted with equally tiny loops all the way down her back. When he finally reached her chemise beneath he blew lightly onto her skin, causing shivers to ripple down her spine. When he made as if he were going to pick her up and lay her on his bed, she gave him a wicked look and shook her head.

"No, not this time. It's my turn."

The two of them made short work of his somber suit and small clothes, finally falling back onto the bed together.

When they turned to face each other, Saida trembled with awareness. This man's body was like the map of a beloved country she'd visited before. A frisson like letting go and falling from a great height seized her in the pit of her stomach.

And then suddenly, she was embarrassed. Did he like what he saw? How did she compare to the pampered, wealthy society women who fought each other for the right to bed him?

He did a strange thing then. He gently tapped the end of her nose. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"No, you don't."

"Of course I do. The pain and uncertainty are there in your eyes. You can't hide from me."

"Pah—."

"You, Saida Hossini, have nothing to be ashamed of. That horrible woman who tried to have you brought up on charges of theft today is nothing but a spoiled, bitter dilettante."

"Then what am I? A dispossessed apothecary who has forever lost her country? Her identity? Someone who has to be taught the ‘correct,' English way to heal?"

"No, Saida," he said, and in a swift movement sat up, taking her with him. He pulled her onto his lap and dragged a blanket over both of them. Tipping up her chin, he gazed directly into her eyes. "You are a healer, and a damned good one, if today's events are any indicator. I never would have thought to do what you did in an instant to save that poor child caught stealing an apple."

She didn't reply, but simply smiled and turned to face him, straddling his lap between them. When she captured his lips with hers, his cock immediately came to attention. "Wrap your legs around me," she whispered into his ear.

In a rapid movement designed to catch him off-guard, she bent low and popped the tip of his penis into her mouth. At his sharp intake of breath and an attempt to push her away, she pressed hard at the base of his big toe with the heel of her hand.

She quickly followed up with a long, slow, fierce rub along the top of his foot before proceeding to massage the inside of his leg with firm thrusts of the heel of her hand. He finally gave in to her expert ministrations, and his initial protests turned to a series of low moans.

When she got to his inner thigh, she slowed down and lightened her touch to feathering with her fingertips until she came to the sensitive globes at the base of his cock. When she traced around them lightly with her fingertips, he came uncontrollably with a shout and pulled her face up to meet his lips.

They lay there for a long time, tasting each other and exchanging deep kisses as if they were exploring a new shore neither one of them wanted to leave.

Finally, Saida raised her head and gave Hamish a long look. "Do you want me as much as I want you?"

"More, way more," he intoned. "However, we have to remember where we are. You belong to the kind man who owns this townhouse and paid me to watch over you." He stopped for a long kiss before continuing. "What kind of bodyguard would I be to lose myself in your bewitching body and forget all about protecting you?"

"Protecting me from what?" she demanded, and pursed her lips into a pout.

He grazed her one breast with his teeth on his way to suckle the other before answering a long time later. "The problem is, we don't know who means you harm."

"If you don't know, then what can you do if some stranger wants to hurt me?"

He sat up abruptly and gave her a sober look. "I'll protect you with everything I have, with my body, heart, and soul. No one will harm you as long as I have breath left."

She stood, walked to a sideboard where a decanter of wine sat, and poured two glasses. When she returned to the bed and offered him one, he gave her a knowing smile and demanded she give him the one she was going to drink. When she raised the glass as if in a toast, he waited until she'd had a few sips before he tried his own.

"You don't trust me," she accused, flashing him a small moue. However, inside, she nearly purred with satisfaction. This dull Scotsman might yet turn into a worthy opponent.