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boundaries. “Watch your tone when you speak to me.”
    “Yes, Captain.” She swung off the bed and then patted her hair as she discovered he’d let it down. “When did you…?”
    She quickly scrambled for the ribbon, but since he’d hidden it in the palm of his hand, her search was in vain. However, in her zeal to find her property, her enticing curves were revealed by the candle’s flickering light, and he had a fine view down her nightgown. He swallowed, itching to run his hands along her sides. Scold her for flaunting herself before him too.
    It was well beyond time he took himself back to his usual brothel and purged his unreasonable urges.
    She stood up and huffed, drawing her hands down the long strands of her hair to neaten her appearance. “I trust you are able to call for Mr. Dawson’s help now if you need it during the night?”
    Mention of his valet soured his night. The man’s fussing was driving him to distraction. “I won’t need Dawson.”
    “Of course.” She ducked down and collected her slippers, then fussed with her hair again. She seemed extremely uncomfortable with it loose. “If there is nothing else.”
    “Wait,” he begged, but he sat up too quickly and clutched at his face as his newly healed skin stretched uncomfortably. “I have a great many questions that require answers.”
    Matilda hurried for his nightstand, scooped out a little of the cream kept there, and pushed his hand aside impatiently. She carefully patted the rosemary-scented ointment along his tingling scar. William held her shoulders to steady himself as she rubbed gentle circles over the rough edges. Months without relief had made him aware of every touch upon his skin as if it were a flame. He flexed his mouth as she recapped the jar, then slid his fingers down to her narrow waist.
    “That should help,” she whispered as he caressed her.
    “Thank you.” He studied her as he inched his fingers around her lithe body. He almost couldn’t breathe for the anticipation and tension thrumming beneath her skin. “Don’t go,” he whispered.
    The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he’d asked for.
    Her gaze fell. “Tomorrow you must write to your family and inform them you are well again. They will want to visit. Tomorrow morning, after you’ve taken your breakfast, is the appropriate time to ask your questions. Mrs. Young will want to speak to you too, and she can fill you in on all you have missed.”
    The housekeeper set his teeth on edge. Mrs. Young would have done nothing and allowed him to die. “I will retrieve my sisters’ letters to you and then speak to you alone tomorrow.”
    She shivered and took a pace back, slipping out of his grasp. “Thank you.”
    “Why do you fuss over me and then run away?”
    “It is not right. I need this position.”
    “I’m not about to dismiss you. Quite the reverse in fact.”
    Her eyes widened. “Are you going to offer for me?”
    William froze, startled by the suggestion. Hadn’t she run away from his passions before? He could not have a lover who disliked the tone of his desires. “I had not considered it.”
    “You held my hand a great many times in the beginning,” she whispered.
    “I remembered something of that,” he acknowledged guiltily. He had a hazy recollection of comfort whenever she was close. A nightmare made smaller and insignificant after her whispered words of kindness. “I don’t recall your making any attempt to stop me from touching you. Not even once. You were kinder to me than I deserve.”
    “You were ill.” She brought her hand up to her chest. “It was sometimes easier to let you have your way. You were not yourself.”
    No doubt he’d been exactly himself, full of want to control her, but he would not reveal that truth to her now. Not if he could never have more than she was comfortable giving up. A marriage of unequal passions was utterly out of the question.
    He threw himself out of the bed and followed her. “My