Kiss Me at Christmas--Playful Brides Read online

The hint of a smile tugged at Regina’s lips. “She had to talk me out of hiding in my bedchamber for the rest of my days.”

  Daffin chuckled. “It wasn’t that awful, was it?”

  Regina folded her hands behind her back and took a few steps away. “I quite thought so at the time.”

  Daffin kept his gaze trained out the window, still looking for any signs of trouble. It was best to concentrate on his duty instead of Regina’s pretty face. “My apologies. You took me by surprise.”

  “I took myself by surprise, too.” She took a deep breath. “Daffin … I … about last night.”

  He winced again. “Did you tell Nicole about that, too?”

  Regina shook her head. “No. I didn’t. And I don’t intend to.”

  He turned toward her. “I want to apologize to you, for what happened last night.”

  “I should have told you I was going to the conservatory to meet Lord Morvenwood.”

  “No, not that.” Daffin stepped closer to her. “I meant I’m sorry for kissing you.”

  Regina straightened and turned away to look out the window. “Yes. You made it quite clear last night that you thought it was a mistake.”

  “It was a mistake.” Was she … angry with him for calling it a mistake? She must realize it had been one. “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s that I had no right.” Damn it. He was making this worse. Why had he kissed her last night? He asked himself the question for the hundredth time. They’d just got off on the right foot, and then … he’d gone and kissed her. They should only be friends. Like he and Nicole were friends. But Nicole had never flirted with him. Nicole had never propositioned him. Nicole didn’t have ink-black hair he wanted to sink his fingers into. She didn’t have dark blue eyes he wanted to get lost in. Damn it. Not helping.

  Regina turned to him and her face softened. “It’s all right, Daffin. I’m glad to know you wanted to. I thought perhaps by mistake you meant that you wished you hadn’t.”

  “I wish I didn’t want to,” he replied, biting at his lip. “I would hate for Grimaldi to come back and murder me.”

  She turned to face him. “He wouldn’t do that. He adores you.”

  Daffin arched a brow. “Would he still adore me after knowing I kissed his engaged cousin?”

  “Not-yet-engaged cousin,” she corrected, smiling.

  “Almost-engaged cousin,” he replied.

  Daffin scanned the bustling street again. No one seemed out of the ordinary. No one appeared to be lurking or watching. Who would want to hurt either of these women? The thought raced through his mind for the thousandth time. He glanced over to see Regina stroking a bolt of deep purple velvet. She had crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed them as if she were cold again. She did that often, he’d noticed. It made him want to take off his coat and wrap it around her again, but he couldn’t do that here.

  “You know, before Cousin John was murdered, I never thought any sort of crime would ever happen to any of us,” Regina said, her voice strained. “Certainly not something as ghastly as murder.” She shuddered and glanced down at the floor. “Now … I cannot help but feel as if anything could happen.”

  Daffin nodded. It was true, but she shouldn’t have to worry about such things. “I’m sorry to say you’re right, and when it comes to the safety of both you and Nicole, we should take every precaution until we know what is happening.”

  She nodded. He’d never noticed how long and gorgeous her eyelashes were.

  “My fitting is finished,” Nicole announced, coming out of the back of the shop with Madame Duval in tow. “We can go now.”

  Regina whirled around. “That didn’t take long.”

  Nicole pulled the strings of her reticule tight. “I only had to try on one gown. The rest will be fitted the same way.”

  “Excellent,” Daffin replied. He scanned the street one last time, preparing to escort the ladies to the coach that waited in front of the shop.

  “We could stop at Gunter’s and get an ice,” Nicole said, rocking to and fro on her heels.

  Daffin frowned. “It’s the middle of December.”

  “Ice still tastes good when it’s cold out,” Nicole retorted. “It’s better in the winter, actually. It doesn’t melt as quickly.”

  “I’m not certain it’s prudent.” Daffin cleared his throat. “Given the circumstances.”

  Madame Duval glanced between them and lifted her brows, obviously interested in what the “circumstances” might be, but too polite to ask.

  “I refuse to act as if I’m under siege.” Nicole lifted her chin. “You want an ice, don’t you, Regina?”

  Regina glanced between Daffin and Nicole. “Ices are lovely, of course. I particularly enjoy the burnt filbert, but I want you to be safe, Nicole.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “I want you to be safe too, but I refuse to cower. Now, we’re going for ices. I insist.”

  Less than twenty minutes later, the coach rolled to a stop in front of Gunter’s on Berkeley Square. Daffin jumped from the coach first, scanned the area, and pulled down the stairs to help the ladies alight.

  “Now that we’re here, I’m feeling awfully sleepy,” Nicole announced, stifling a yawn.

  “Stay in the coach,” Regina replied. “We’ll get the ices.”

  “Indeed,” Daffin agreed. He helped Regina down the steps.

  He and Regina turned away from the coach. They waited for a few conveyances to pass before crossing the road toward the confectioner’s shop.

  A crack went off.

  Daffin dove to the ground, taking Regina with him. He covered her with his body. “Keep your head down,” he whispered fiercely.

  He glanced up at the crowd that was forming. A man broke away and ran across the square.

  “He had a pistol!” one woman yelled, pointing after the man. “He shot toward the lady,” she informed Daffin, nodding at Regina.

  Daffin jumped up and pulled Regina into his arms. He ripped open the door to the coach and handed her inside to a wide-eyed Nicole. “Stay down,” he warned them.

  He yelled to the coachman to take them home, then he sprang to give chase to the culprit. If he could catch the bastard, he could put an end to the speculation as to who was after them and why.

  By the time Daffin ran the length of Berkeley Square and turned the first corner onto Bruton Street, where he’d seen the shooter run, there was no sign of the man. Daffin scanned the area. His gaze swept every inch of the place, his eyes narrowed and alert. The culprit had been of medium build and height, in working-class dress, including a hat that had been pulled down to obscure his face, but Daffin didn’t know if he was young or old. He didn’t know his hair color or any of his features.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. He turned in a circle. The bloody bounder could be anywhere. In any of the store fronts. Hiding somewhere. Or perhaps he’d run down an alley. Or lurked in one of the many sets of mews behind the buildings. For all Daffin knew, the chap lived near here and was already home. Damn again. It would be nothing short of a wild-goose chase to singlehandedly search the area. He needed to get back to Regina and protect her.

  Frustrated, Daffin set out back in the direction of Gunter’s. He could only hope the coachman had kept them safe. Sweating from his run, he pulled off his coat and tossed it over his arm. He’d just turned the corner back onto Curzon Street when the duke’s coach pulled to a stop in front of him. Damn it. They hadn’t gone home.

  The door to the conveyance opened, and he was greeted with looks of horror from both ladies.

  “Dear God, Daffin,” Regina cried. “You’ve been shot!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Daffin glanced down to see blood seeping from his white shirt. How the hell had he failed to notice the wound to his shoulder? He had felt no pain, and apparently, his dark coat had obscured it. The two ladies quickly helped him into the carriage, and Regina shouted for the coachman to drive as quickly as possible.

  As they raced home, Regina examined the wound. It ap
peared the bullet had merely grazed him, but that didn’t stop the ladies from behaving as if he were in mortal danger. Regina pulled off her scarf and used it to stanch the blood. She pressed the soft fabric tightly against his bare flesh. She was so close her apple scent made his head swim. Or perhaps it was the blood loss. He grinned to himself.

  “What are you smiling about?” Regina demanded. Her face was drawn and pale. She looked frightened half to death.

  “Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot,” Daffin whispered to her. “But it’s certainly the first time I’ve had a scarf that’s probably more expensive than my entire set of clothing stanch the blood.”

  “You’ve been shot before?” Regina turned a shade paler.

  “Twice,” Daffin replied.

  “What’s that?” Nicole asked from her perch on the other side of him.

  “Daffin says this is the third time he’s been shot at,” Regina replied.

  Nicole nodded. “In his line of work, it comes with the territory.”

  “No. No.” Daffin shook his head. “This is the third time I’ve been hit. I’ve been shot at more times than I care to count.”

  Regina didn’t say a word. She continued to press her scarf to the wound as the coach pulled to a stop in front of Mark’s house.

  “Don’t leave this coach until I’m certain the street is clear,” Daffin warned, wincing as he reached for the door handle.

  “Mr. Hedley, please scan the road for shooters before we take Mr. Oakleaf into the house. It’s no worry. He’s only been shot. Take your time,” Regina said, irony dripping from her voice.

  “The point is I don’t want you to be shot, either,” Daffin said, shaking his head.

  Moments later, both the coachman and the footman indicated the street appeared to be empty. Regina and Nicole escorted Daffin into the foyer like mother ducks keeping an eye on their egg. The ladies insisted he go into the first drawing room and lie on the settee while Nicole ordered Louise, the housemaid, to prepare hot, soapy water and bring clean rags to treat the wound. Apparently, the ladies were intent upon setting up a makeshift hospital in the salon.

  When Louise returned, Regina took the basin of soapy water and rags and dismissed her. The maid left with a sour look on her face.

  “Why’s she so unhappy?” Nicole asked.

  Regina set the basin on the table in front of the settee and began wringing out the clean rags. She lifted one shoulder, a sly smile on her face. “My guess … she wanted to see Daffin with his shirt off.”

  Despite the pain in his arm, Daffin couldn’t help his snort. “Doubtful.”

  “Mark my words. We’ll find her peeking in the keyhole if we bother to check,” Regina replied.

  Nicole immediately put her hand to her forehead. “Oh, dear. I find the scent of blood makes me queasy in my condition. Regina, there’s no help for it. You’re going to have to treat the wound.”

  Daffin met Regina’s gaze. She visibly swallowed.

  “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

  “No you’re not. You’ve been shot, and I’m shaking,” Nicole insisted weakly.

  Daffin’s nostrils flared. “I’m only angry the scoundrel got away.”

  “Nevertheless,” Nicole continued, “I refuse to allow you to stay in my home with an untreated pistol wound you incurred on our behalf. Regina will treat it. Carry on.” With that, Nicole hurried from the room.

  Daffin’s gaze met Regina’s over the steam rising from the water basin.

  “Do you mind?” she asked quietly, gesturing to his shoulder.

  “Please.” He watched her move closer. Her lips were parted and as she bent over him, her chest rose and fell. Sweat beaded between her breasts. He knew he shouldn’t be looking there but couldn’t help himself. He swallowed, hard.

  Louise had also brought a set of shears and Daffin pushed himself away from the back of the settee to allow Regina to cut his shirt from his wounded shoulder. He winced a time or two, but her touch was sure and gentle. He appreciated that. She wasn’t trying to baby him.

  “Does it hurt terribly?” she asked.

  “Not much,” he replied, gritting his teeth. Like the devil.

  “Would you like some brandy?”

  “Would love some.”

  Regina made her way to the sideboard and returned with an entire bottle. “Drink as much as you wish. I won’t judge you.”

  He smiled at that. “A nursemaid after my own heart.” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig. Then another, longer swig. “Don’t tell Grimaldi I drank his best brandy from the bottle.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t. Besides, I’m certain Mark will understand, given that you took a bullet meant for his cousin.”

  Daffin flashed her a grin. “You may be right about that.”

  Regina turned her attention back to his wound. Her face was pale.

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I used to help the groomsmen and the stable boys when the horses gave birth. I’m quite used to blood.”

  “Horse blood?” He gritted his teeth again as she dabbed at the wound with one of the soapy cloths. He took another long swig of brandy and concentrated on the liquid burning a path to his belly.

  “Blood is blood,” Regina said, her bright blue eyes focused on his wound. “We should probably remove your shirt entirely. Regardless of how pleased that shall make Louise.”

  “And what about you?” he asked. “How pleased will it make you if we remove my shirt entirely?” Why the devil had he said that? He hadn’t had that much brandy. Yet.

  “Depends on what I see when the shirt comes off,” Regina replied saucily.

  Using the shears again to make it less painful, Regina tenderly helped him off with his shirt. When his chest was completely bared to her, she sucked in her breath. Good. It was the exact reaction he’d hoped for. Why, he didn’t want to examine at the moment, but apparently, Regina liked what she saw. Pride filled him. Why did he care so much what this woman thought of him? At least this time he could blame the brandy. He took another swig of the delicious stuff.

  * * *

  Regina fought her blush. Her gasp had been telling enough, she didn’t need to make a scene. But the man’s chest was in keeping with his Greek-godlike appearance. She was certain Michelangelo himself couldn’t have done a better job if he’d carved it out of stone. Hard and ripped with muscles, it was lightly dusted with hair and rippled when she touched it with the hot wet rag. She swallowed again.

  “My apologies.” She fastened her eyes back on his shoulder. “It’s just that I’ve…”

  “Never seen a man’s chest before?” Daffin finished for her.

  “Is it that obvious?” She dared another surreptitious glance at his perfect torso. The man obviously kept himself in good shape. “Chasing down criminals clearly keeps you quite … fit,” she murmured.

  “I also lift heavy objects and dabble in boxing,” he replied with a roguish grin.

  “That explains it.” She leaned forward, refocusing her attention on his wound, carefully examining it. “It’s a deep furrow,” she announced after a few moments. She didn’t meet his eyes, tenderly dabbing at the wound. “No doubt it will leave a scar.”

  “Won’t be the first, and hopefully won’t be the last.” He raised the bottle in the air in salute.

  She blinked at him. “Hopefully? You mean you look forward to being injured?”

  “It means I’m alive,” he murmured, swiping the back of his hand across his wet lips.

  “Where are your other scars?” Regina ventured before realizing what a loaded question it was.

  His grin turned positively roguish. “Care to see them?”

  He was flirting again. She liked it. His words made her bold. “Depends on where they are.”

  “One is on my back.” He slowly leaned forward and Regina glanced behind him to see a ragged round scar just below his opposite shoul
der. “Another is on my calf.” He leaned down and pulled his breeches from his boot, lifting the garment high enough to reveal his leg covered in blond hair and another large roundish scar on the side of his calf.

  “Is that all of them?” Regina ventured.

  “No. But the last one is somewhere … private.”

  A thrill shot through Regina’s core. “Where?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “My upper thigh.” His hot gaze didn’t let go of hers.

  “I suppose it would be entirely indecent of you to show me that one.”

  “I suppose so,” he said with a sigh. “Pity.”

  She lifted her chin in the air. “It’s bad of you to even mention it. Especially knowing I fancy you a bit.”

  The hint of a smile tugged at Daffin’s bottom lip. “Only a bit?”

  Regina laughed. This time she boldly glanced down his chest and back up again. She met his eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. “That’s right.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.” Daffin set the brandy bottle on the floor next to them.

  “I promised not to talk about my indecent proposal.” Regina dipped the cloth back in the bowl of hot water and wrung it out. The water in the bowl turned pink. “I never said I promised to stop thinking you’re handsome.”

  He leaned back against the settee pillows, his eyes half closed. “So you admit you think I’m handsome?”

  “Even more so without your shirt on, I’m afraid.” She shook her head. “But I’m quite through feeding your vanity when I’m supposed to be seeing to your shoulder, and as to that, the good news is it looks as if you’ve only been grazed.”

  * * *

  Daffin turned his head sharply to the side to look at his shoulder. “I’m fortunate.” He grabbed the brandy bottle again.

  “I’ll have to sew it, but first … this.” Regina pulled the brandy bottle from his hand, placed a fresh rag over the lip of the bottle, and turned it upside down to apply the liquid to the rag. Daffin braced himself as she touched the alcohol-laden rag to his shoulder.

  The sting made him wince, but just as quickly he forgot about the pain as Regina’s hand clamped his inner thigh. She squeezed the area just above his knee. He’d never felt anything so erotic. His gaze met hers as she drew the cloth away. “That should do it,” she breathed.