Page 25 of Wicked Rivals
The carriage dress was a crumpled heap on the floor by the time the ladies noticed Ashton was still inside.
“Ashton,leave. You cannot be in here.” Joanna shielded Rosalind’s body with her own by standing in front of the bed, arms crossed.
“You’ll need help getting her into the tub.” He gently pushed his sister aside, her mouth agape as he picked up Rosalind and carried her to his large brass bathing tub. Julia just stared at him for a minute.
“Do you need help with the bath?” he asked the maid.
“No, my lord. You may set her inside. The water is hot.”
“Thank you, Julia.” He turned to his sister. “Please bring down a spare nightgown.”
His sister looked scandalized. “And leave you two alone?”
“She’s a widow, Joanna, not a debutante. Her reputation is not at stake the way yours would be. Now go, fetch me those clothes.”
Joanna nodded and grabbed her maid’s arm as they departed. Once he was alone, he turned his focus back to Rosalind.
Even though she still wore her chemise, Ashton knew his sister and her maid would protest that he’d gone too far by staying any longer. He bent over the tub and gingerly set Rosalind inside. Her cold, pale skin started to color as he knelt beside her. Her head rolled and her lashes fluttered. Ashton cupped her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb over her left cheekbone.
“Claire,” she murmured drowsily. “Did I fall asleep in the bath?”
Ashton had to swallow his chuckle. “Something like that, my little hellion. Wake up for me.”
Rosalind’s eyes flew open. “Lennox! You bloody bastard!”
Crack!Her palm connected with his cheek, catching him off guard, but he did not retaliate. Holding very still, he stared at her, watching the play of emotions that crossed her face. Shock, rage, embarrassment, and then to his displeasure, he saw fear overcome all of these.
His little Scottish hellion was finally awake.
Chapter Seven
“How did I…” Rosalind glanced down at herself, and Ashton saw every one of her muscles tense.
He could almost hear her thoughts trying to catch up with her panic. She was all but naked and sitting in a tub of warm bathwater with Ashton just inches away. A hot blush flamed her face.
“I found you on my doorstep. Unconscious.” He couldn’t help that his tone sounded gruff. The image of her passed out at his feet was difficult to look back on.
“Oh.” She ducked her head, but he could still see the wheels turning as she tried to piece together what series of events had led her to this tub.
“Did you walk all the way from London?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him.
Rosalind’s shoulders dropped, and she covered her breasts with her arms, all too aware of where his focus was drifting. “What? No, of course not. Don’t be foolish.”
“Then how in blazes did you end up at my house in such a muddy mess?” Ashton sat on his backside by the tub and continued to regard her, now with amusement.
When she didn’t answer, he reached into the tub with his long fingers and flicked droplets of water towards her in an offhanded way. He bit his lip when he noticed her eyes tracking the movement of his hand.Skittish as a foal…
Forcing herself to drag her eyes from his hand, she met his curious look and raised her chin, silently defying him to splash her again.
“I took my coach, even though you forbade it. My maid and I were halfway here when…” Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly lunged at him, punching him hard with a balled fist.
Despite the surprising strength behind the blow, Ashton did not flinch.
She stared at him as though searching for some type of reaction, and she seemed disappointed that she didn’t find it. “Blast.”
“The first blow I can understand. Dare I ask whatthatwas for?” Ashton raised a brow. He wasn’t going to let her escape without an explanation.
A red blush stained her cheeks.
