with a silk nightdress! I don’t even possess a silk nightdress. Whose is it?’
‘It’s yours now. I had someone from the store deliver a few, the morning after you arrived—since you seemed to have only one of your own, which, frankly, was well past its sell-by date. And I decided that clothing you was better than seeing you naked, every time I walked past.’
‘You mean you...you stripped me off and dressed me?’ she demanded, her heart beginning a ragged thunder.
Titus gave a short laugh. ‘Actually, I employed a nurse to do that. I haven’t quite reached the point of dragging sick women back to my house so that I can have my wicked way with them.’ He paused as he flicked his eyes over her. ‘Added to which, I’m afraid that you’re just not my type.’
Roxy’s face didn’t betray any kind of reaction, but stupidly his remark hurt. It was bad enough being made to feel like a complete waif and stray without it being implied that you were hideously unattractive. Anyway, it was obvious what sort of woman he would go for. A starchy aristocrat like Titus Alexander would be attracted to someone like Annabella, her ex-next-door neighbour, with her perfect pedigree and clothes which always looked like an upmarket uniform.
‘Well, you’re not my type either,’ she said defensively, putting her hand over her mouth as she began to cough.
‘Really? I’m crushed!’
‘I don’t go for toffee-nosed, stuck-up aristocrats who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth!’
‘I suppose the fact that I’m single must also be a bit of a barrier,’ he offered sarcastically. ‘Because you seem to like the buzz of the forbidden. I can’t think what else attracted you to my father’s accountant. Was it just the cheap rent which won you over, or did his large beer-gut play a part in luring you into his bed?’
‘I didn’t go to bed with Martin Murray!’ she snapped, but the effort of having a row with him was too much and she slumped back against the pillows to see him watching her from between narrowed eyes. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Five days.’
Five days? Roxy’s feeling of disorientation increased and it wasn’t helped by her sudden acknowledgement of how long it had been since she’d been alone in a bedroom with a man. And the even more unwanted acknowledgement of just how sexy a man he was. His soft, dark sweater sleeves were rolled up to reveal hair-roughened arms and his jeans were close-fitting and faded. Effortlessly, they emphasised the narrow jut of his hips and the taut definition of his powerful legs. How weird it was to think that this man was actually a Duke when he looked more like some pin-up of a rock-star. ‘That’s a long time,’ she observed, her skin prickling with unwanted awareness.
Tell me about it, Titus thought grimly. Five days of trying not to focus on that amazing body which had clung to him as he’d carried her inside on that frosty night. Or to remember the brief glimpse of her cherry-tipped nipples when she’d torn her nightdress off in the middle of her delirium. It had been that fever-fuelled gesture which had made him instantly decide that he needed a nurse there.
He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that her hair was tumbling over her narrow shoulders or that those cherry nipples were now outlined by the silk of her nightgown. He shouldn’t be thinking about what it would be like to explore all that soft and silken skin. She was trouble in every sense of the word and the thing he needed to do now was to get her out of here and out of his life. Only this time, for good.
‘So how are you feeling?’ he forced himself to ask.
Roxy gave a shrug, knowing that he wasn’t interested in hearing her worries about what had been happening work-wise during the five days she’d been out of it. Or her concerns about what the cleaning agency would make of her unplanned absence. Her inbuilt survival system took over and she even managed a watery smile. ‘Hungry.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, as if that was the first sensible word she’d uttered. ‘So why don’t you get dressed and I’ll fix you some breakfast?’
Roxy nodded, hearing the note of closure in his voice. No doubt he would send her on her way after a hearty breakfast. A last meal for the condemned woman. ‘Okay.’
‘You’ll find your clothes in the wardrobe over there,’ he said abruptly, on his way out of the bedroom. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I had them sent out to be laundered.’
What could she say—that he made her feel a bit like some feral animal who’d needed to be hosed down and disinfected? Roxy waited until he’d gone before gingerly getting out of bed, but her legs felt wobbly and she was decidedly weak as she showered and washed her hair. She remembered losing her job at the Kit-Kat Club and wondered what on earth she was going to do. More importantly—where on earth she was going to go? Pulling on a deliciously fresh-smelling sweater, she wriggled into her jeans—except that there wasn’t much wriggling to be done because they slipped on much too easily. No woman ever wore her jeans this big, she thought—adding a belt to cinch them in as she wondered just how much weight she had lost.
She made the bed and tidied up the room, but she knew she couldn’t keep putting off going downstairs and facing her bleak future. Her heart was pounding as she followed the sound of clashing pots to find Titus cooking breakfast.
The kitchen was situated right at the back of the house and contained all the usual luxury components of a no-money-spared environment. There was a big, scrubbed oak table and a beautiful dresser crowded with china which looked scarily valuable. At the other end of the room, two squashy sofas overlooked a garden which was huge, by city standards. It was like one of those rooms featured in the lifestyle magazines you sometimes found lying around in the dentist’s surgery. Only they didn’t usually feature someone like Titus Alexander standing stirring something over a huge range.
It made an incongruous image to see the powerful aristocrat doing something so domesticated as cooking and for a moment Roxy stood watching him, her feeling of trespassing growing by the minute. And not just of trespass... She found her eyes straying to the dark, beaten copper of his ruffled hair and the broad back which tapered down to a perfect bottom and once again she felt a powerful rush of lust. Did he have a lover? she wondered. And if so, wouldn’t she have minded him giving some complete stranger house-room for nearly a week?
He must have heard her—or sensed her presence—because he turned round, his expression shuttered as he surveyed her.
‘Sit down. I’m fixing you some eggs.’
She noticed he didn’t bother asking her whether she liked eggs. ‘Where’s my phone?’ she questioned as she sat down at the table.
‘Eat first,’ he said, walking over and sliding a plate of scrambled eggs towards her.
She didn’t like his autocratic attitude one bit, but the sight of the food he’d placed in front of her stopped Roxy from saying so. She must have been hungrier than she’d thought because she gave a little moan of greed and ate every scrap, followed by two slices of toast and jam and a large cup of strong black coffee. When she’d finished, she looked up to find Titus leaning against the range, watching her—still with that shuttered expression on his face.
Suddenly the false intimacy of the scene made her feel a stupid pang of wistfulness and she wondered where that had come from. But the thoughts carried on coming, no matter how hard she tried to stop them. Was this what he did for his girlfriends? she found herself wondering. Cook them breakfast after spending the night making love to them?
