Brody leapt to his feet, crossing the room in an instant. He beat on the door.
When she didn’t answer, he tried the knob. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. He burst in to find her sprawled on her back, all tangled up in cream-colored silk.
Brody dropped to his knees on the slick linoleum. “Oh, dear God. Angelica, can you hear me?”
She blinked her blue eyes, dazed. “I slipped.”
“You should have called for help, rather than risk falling,” he scolded, cupping the back of her skull with his palm. “Did you hit your head?”
“No, no. No.”
He gathered her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. Their room was warm enough that he laid her on top of the bedcovers. She sat up instantly, drawing her knees, and hugging them against her chest. She’d had a fright.
Brody placed a comforting hand on her back. “It’s all right, Angelica. You’re safe.”
“I just wanted to have a bath…”
He kissed the top of her head. “I rushed you. I’m sorry.”
“Why were you in such a hurry?”
Brody couldn’t remember now. All he knew was the pounding in his heart, and the sheer terror he’d felt when he thought Angelica had been injured. So he told her the first true thing he could think of, “I get nervous when you’re not around.”
She laughed. “I was only in the bathroom.”
“Too far,” he confessed. Anywhere out of arm’s reach was too far. He needed her near him always—not for her safety, but for his.
Brody traced the ridge of her spine, feeling her breath shudder beneath his touch. He’d been too preoccupied to notice her nightdress, which clung to her damp skin. She was still pink from her bath. Warm and clean, and smelling like his borrowed bar of soap. He leaned into her, breathing deep, and pressed his lips to her neck.
“Brody…” She twisted away.
He’d lost his head for a moment. She did not want his pathetic attentions. For once, Angelica was the rational one, and he the lonely fool. Brody pushed off the bed. “I—I have to go.”
Her dark brow furrowed. “Go where?”
He dug through the wardrobe for his greatcoat. “Out. I need a drink. I need…”
“A woman,” she said, sadly. “You need a woman.”
“Yes! I cannot share a room with you, or a meal, or even a damned bar of soap and not want you.” Brody jammed his arms into the sleeves and pulled the collar up over his ears. “I hate myself for it, because I don’t want to want you. Not now, not like this.”
She frowned. “Because I’m not a virgin?”
“I don’t know, Angelica. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“You’re the worst kind of man—you only wanted me when I was yours to take. Well, too late. I have already given it up! So go and find a whore. Put her on her knees and pretend that she hasn’t already sucked a dozen men. While she’s choking you down, remember me, cast aside because I’ve had the audacity to know one man. One!” She nearly spat at him. “Go on, get it out of your system. Then, come back here and start acting like a man, rather than a spoiled little boy whose favorite toy has broken.”
Brody stared at her, struck dumb. She was so angry. Where did this rage come from? When he didn’t move, Angelica turned away from him. As if the very thought of him repulsed her.
Trembling, she added, “I never judged you for having other women, but because I cannot come to you a virgin, I’m somehow no longer worthy of you. You hate me for the same thing you seek from those other women. It’s cruel, Brody.”
He’d been unfair to her. He’d put Angelica Grey on too high a pedestal, built on an unsteady base. Of course it would topple. Of course she would fall.
Tonight, Brody wanted a woman. The first one he could find. He did not want to know her name, or anything about her. He simply wanted to empty the loneliness, disillusion, and heartbreak inside her. To forget for an hour what his life had become.
Where in that scenario was he better than Angelica for doing the same exact thing?
He was no virgin, and neither was she.
With a growl, he crossed the room and hauled her into his arms. He came at her like a beast, no longer frightened of her delicate, maidenly sensibilities. This was a woman who had known a man. And, now, she was going to know another.
Angelica stripped him out of his greatcoat. She dragged it down his arms and slung it carelessly into the corner. Free of it, Brody slid his hands up her body, bunching her nightdress as he went. Her skin was soft and milk-white beneath it. She wasn’t quite as thin as he’d expected her to be—her thighs were gently rounded, and her backside surprisingly plump.
Someone had been feeding her.