Danice Allen

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Book: Read Danice Allen for Free Online
Authors: Remember Me
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Historical
chin. “That’s an order, Theo!”
    Theo finally skulked away, looking cross as crabs. Amanda closed the door, then turned and faced the bed, contemplating with considerable nervousness the task before her. The broad-shouldered, lean-flanked stranger was sprawled over the entire surface of the medium-size bed, his arms and legs thrown wide. His muscles were clearly defined beneath the smooth, fine fabric of his coat sleeves and trouser legs. Just looking at him gave Amanda a weak, warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    She reminded herself that the man was injured and needed help. She had to get those wet clothes off before he took cold. And if she found the task of disrobing him a trifle embarrassing … or a trifle too titillating … she would just have to grit her teeth and carry on.
    Taking a deep, shaky breath, she leaned over and took hold of the man’s right boot.

Chapter 3
    Amanda learned from firsthand experience why fashionable gentlemen required the assistance of a valet, or at the very least a bootjack, to pry off their boots. It was no easy task, and once she was done, she took off her velvet cloak and hung it on a hook by the door; she certainly didn’t need it to keep warm!
    Staring down at the man, Amanda dabbed at her damp forehead with a handkerchief and contemplated the best way to remove his coat. Of a rich burgundy color, the elegant cutaway jacket was tailored to fit exactly the man’s wide shoulders and then to follow impeccably the lean lines of his torso. The renowned Weston, who was most probably the man’s tailor, had given little thought as to how difficult it would be to remove such a close-fitting jacket from an inert body. However, beleaguered valets probably had to perform such miracles regularly, so Amanda decided to take courage and inspiration from them.
    “I do wish you’d wake up,” Amanda grumbled in a soft voice, leaning over to wedge both hands under his right shoulder. “Though when you do, I shall probably have the devil of a time explaining how we came to be married, my lord.”
    She gave him a push, hoping to roll him onto his side. He didn’t budge. “But all things considered, that might be easier than trying to undress you.”
    She climbed onto the bed and tried again, putting her whole weight into it. With a most unladylike grunt, she pushed him onto his side, then kept him there by bracing her knees against his back.
    “I wonder,” she said, pulling the coat off his shoulder and yanking the bottom of the sleeve over his hand, “if you actually are a lord of some kind. You look plump enough in the purse, and you have that sort of aristocratic air, even as drunk as you are. Maybe I didn’t actually perjure my soul for lying when I told that old biddy you were an earl.”
    She’d got one sleeve off, and now she needed to get to the other side of him to duplicate her maneuvers and tug off the other sleeve. She eased him flat on his back again, and instead of climbing off the bed to approach the job from the other side, she decided to straddle him and thus get the business over with more quickly. It would only take a second.
    Unfortunately, Amanda had not taken into consideration the encumbrance of her skirts and petticoats. Crawling about on her knees tugged at the fabric of her gown and seemed likely to tear it, so she lifted her skirts just far enough to free her legs to move.
    With her bombazine skirts bunched around her, Amanda braced her hands on either side of the man’s chest and lifted one leg over him. As he was lying with his own legs rather spread out, Amanda found she could only straddle one thigh at a time.
    She had conquered the first thigh and was about to conquer the next when—alas—the door to the small room opened and a chambermaid with a bundle of wood appeared. When she saw Amanda more or less atop the stranger and with her skirts in a bunch, the chambermaid was forced to come to only one conclusion: that she had interrupted a conjugal

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