Page 138 of The Trouble with Tigers
He rose from the bed and fumbled around 'til he had an oil lamp burning low.
He located a clean towel and her damned lavender soap and approached the basin. He pealed off his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves, all the while feeling her eyes on him, which in turn kept him in a constant state of semi-arousal.
“I assume it was as much a surprise for you as it was for me that you wound up here in this out-of-the-way town, hmm?” He laid his shirt over the wooden valet beside the dresser.
“Completely. I had no idea we’d changed course ’til the horses halted in front of the inn and I awoke.”
He nodded. “You might want to cover your eyes.”
His back to her, he stepped out of his trousers, then his drawers. “So you wound up here. Were you wondering if I’d find you?” Having asked, he couldn’t not look at her.
She studied him, unblinking, lips parted.
He went rock hard, just like that.
Guileless as a newborn colt, and tempting as a siren, and he’d bet his last shilling she had no idea what she did to him.
She shook her head, as if to clear her mind, and shifted her gaze off him. “Yes.”
He should leave it at that. His resolve lasted all of two seconds. “Wondering? Or hoping?” he asked softly.
She met his gaze for a heart beat. “Hoping.”
He resisted the impulse to cross the room to scoop her into his arms. First things first. He needed to rid himself of the worst of the day’s grime, for her sake.
He splashed tepid water over himself and soaped up. “Why did your travel plans change?”
The mattress squeaked.
He glanced over his shoulder to see her slipping her legs under the covers and leaning back against the headboard.
“I asked Collin as soon as Garrick was out of earshot, and he said he’d opted to take the long way home for my benefit. And yet…”
“And yet?”
“One would think Garrick would object to any delay.”
“He didn’t?”
“He seemed more smug. Like he knew something I didn’t.”
Zeke rinsed as best he could, then scrubbed the towel over his damp skin. “You think he and your brother colluded over something?”
“Of course not. Collin wouldn’t hide anything from me. It’s Garrick I don’t trust.”
He laid the towel beside the basin.
“There is one other thing. Trifling, really.”
“Go on.”
“This afternoon, after we checked in, Collin said he wanted a feel for the festival. He made it clear he didn’t want my company.” She paused. “We had words.”
He strode for the oil lamp, extinguishing it. “Let me guess. He browbeat you some more about keeping your promise to him.”
“You always think the worst of Collin. Just because he’s had it rough these last years doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. He’s a wonderful brother.”
“A regular paragon,” he muttered. He crossed toward the bed, found the top edge of the covers and pulled them back.
