Page 83 of Just Imagine
“Never mind, I’ll take the damned things off myself.”
“Are you sure? I live to be helpful.”
He shot her a dark look, muttered something under his breath, and jerked off the boots. When he rose to take off his clothes, she busied herself by straightening the items on the top of the bureau.
She heard the sound of clothing dropping to the floor, then a splash as he lowered himself into the tub. “Come over here and scrub my back.”
He knew he’d gotten the short end of their previous exchange, and now he intended to make up for it. She turned and saw him slouched low in the tub, his arm propped on the side, one wet calf dangling over the edge. “Take off your dress first so you don’t get it wet.”
This time he was certain she’d defy him, which would give him an excuse to be even more unpleasant. But he wasn’t going to win that easily, especially when she wore a modestly cut chemise beneath, along with several petticoats. She avoided looking into the tub water as she unfastened her dress. “How considerate you are.”
The water must have soothed him, because his eyes lost their hard look and developed an evil gleam. “Thank you for noticing. Now scrub my back.”
She’s scrub it, all right. She’s scrub the skin off.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry,” she said innocently from her position behind him. “I thought you were tougher.”
“Don’t forget my chest,” he said by way of retaliation.
This would be awkward, and he knew it. She’d deliberately kept herself behind him, but it would be hard to wash his chest like that. She gingerly reached around him.
“You can’t do a good job like that.” He caught her wrist and pulled her to the side of the tub, soaking the front of her chemise in the process.
Avoiding looking down, she put the sponge to his chest and began soaping the mat of hair that stretched across it. She did her best not to linger over the white, lathery circles she made, but the swirling patterns icing those solid muscles enticed her. She wanted to paint in them.
One of her hairpins came out, and a lock of hair dipped into the water. Cain reached up to tuck it behind her ear. She sat back on her heels. His eyes drifted from her face to her breasts. She knew without looking that the water had made her chemise transparent.
“I’ll—I’ll set your plate on the table so you can eat after you’ve dried off.”
“You do that,” he said huskily.
She turned her back to him and took her time clearing off a small table by the fireplace. She could hear him drying off. When the sound stopped, she glanced cautiously at him.
He was dressed only in a pair of trousers, his hair damp and combed free of curl. She licked her lips nervously. The game had subtly shifted. “I’m afraid the food might be a little cold, but I’m sure it’s delicious.” She moved toward the door.
“Sit down, Kit. I don’t like to eat alone.”
She reluctantly took a seat across from him. He began to eat, and as she watched him, the four-poster bed in the corner of the room seemed to grow bigger in her imagination until it filled the room. She had to distract herself.
“I’m sure you’re expecting me to take over Sophronia’s responsibilities now, but—”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to. I can cook, but I’m terrible at the rest.”
“Then let Sophronia do it.”
She’d been prepared to rail at him for being unreasonable, but just like that, he’d knocked the wind out of her sails.
“There’s only one household matter I want you to attend to, in addition to tending to me, of course.”
She stiffened. Here it came. Something he knew she’d hate.
“A fox got one of the chickens last night. See if you can track it down. I’m sure you’re a better shot than most of the men around here.”
She simply stared at him.
