In Bed With The Devil | Herophine

Chapter Nine - The Distraction

Very gently he took her hand. He could feel the small tremors traveling through it. "This is likely to hurt," he said as he began to remove the handkerchief.

"You say that as though it's not hurting now."

"Is it hurting very badly?"

Josephine

Josephine tried not to look, tried so hard not to look, but there was so much blood, it was as though each drop were a magnet for her eyes. "It hurts like the very devil."

He chuckled low. "You're such a brave girl."

She didn't know why his words warmed her, why she cared that he had a good opinion of her. "There's so much blood."

"Yes," he said quietly, removing the last of the cloth, revealing the ghastly parted flesh with the river of crimson running through it. She wondered how much worse it might have been if the knife hadn't had to first slice through her glove.

"Oh, dear God." She turned her head away as though closing her eyes wasn't enough.

His hold on her hand tightened. "Don't swoon on me."

"I'm not going to swoon." She didn't bother to keep the irritation from her voice. "I hate that you think I'm such a ninny."

"I assure you, Josephine, that particular thought regarding you has never once crossed my mind." She heard a scrap of metal over wood and opened her eyes in time to see him lifting the knife. Very gingerly, he used it to slice her glove further, to the end. Then he very carefully parted the cloth and slowly peeled back the material, gently tugging it off each finger. She was suddenly having a very difficult time drawing in a breath, the room had grown incredibly hot, and she feared she might be in danger of swooning—even though she'd assured him she wouldn't.

She imagined him in a bedroom, removing clothes from a woman— from her—with the same care. Revealing every inch of her flesh for his perusal. He was studying her hand as though he'd never before seen bare fingers. He slowly trailed his finger along the outline of her hand.

"I don't think it's too bad," he said quietly.

Swallowing, she nodded.

"If you ever put yourself in harm's way like that again, I'll put you over my knee."

"And do what?" she asked indignantly.

He lifted his gaze to hers, and she saw the worry in his eyes, before he smiled. "Kiss your bare bottom." Her face must have shown shock at his words—she could only hope it revealed shock and not desire—because he shook his head. "My apologies. That was entirely inappropriate. I forget who you are."

"And who is that?"

"Not one of Hunter's doxies."

She didn't want to contemplate him kissing a woman's bare bottom, kissing anything for that matter.