She settled her head into the curve of his shoulder as he began striding toward the stairs. “You’re stronger than I thought.”

“It doesn’t take much strength when I’m carrying a cloud.”

“I’m heavier than that.”

“Not by much.”

When they reached her rooms, he carried on through to her bedchamber—which was easy enough to determine as it was the only other room—and set her gently on the bed. With tenderness, he removed her slippers. “Will you trust me to loosen your lacings?”

She nodded. He came around behind her, and she was very much aware of his fingers working along her spine, not stopping with the gown but loosening the lacings on her corset as well. When he was done, he urged her to lay down and draped a blanket over her. He stretched out beside her, wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face to his chest, and began rubbing her back through the blanket and her clothing.

“I’ll have you warmed in a jiff.”

Her teeth were clattering from a cold deep within her that was threatening to turn her blood into ice. “I can’t seem to stop trembling.”

His lovely ministrations ceased briefly as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. “Slip your hands in here.”

“I can’t do that to you. My fingers are like ice.”

“I can bear the momentary discomfort. What I can’t bear is your suffering.” Taking one of her hands, he guided it between the parted cloth, settling her fingers against his smooth, heated skin. She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt him stiffen.

“I’m sorry.”

When she would have removed her hand, he held it in place. “It’s all right. Now the other.”

Doing as he bade, she thought the hottest of fires would not have thawed her so completely, nor would they have felt so welcoming.

“Better?” he asked quietly, and she did little more than nod. “Good.”

He returned to rubbing her back, and her body grew warm, lethargic. She sank against him but her mind raced like it was a runaway mare desperate to escape the horrors that had befallen it. “If he sired me”—horrific images bombarded her—“I can’t imagine that my mother loved him, that she would have welcomed him into her bed. He was so vile, so nasty.”

“Perhaps he was a very different fellow when he was younger.”

“Can one change that drastically in twenty years? He said she needed to keep a roof over her head. Why did she turn to him for help? What did he require of her?”

“Sweetheart, don’t torment yourself with questions. Everything he said could have been a lie.”

“Yet it contained a spark of truth.” Her fingers had lost their chilling edge, so she slid her hands around his sides to his back, holding him close. “I can’t bear the thought of what she might have endured at his hand.”