Page 55 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
—to taste, to explore, to know every nook and cranny—
“Sweetheart, you need to wake up.”
No. No. No. She wouldn’t leave this fantasy behind until it came to its satisfying conclusion.
“Gillie, wake up for me now.”
The concern and worry, the edge of panic woven through his voice broke through the gossamer images. Her eyes fluttered open. He was there, his hands cradling her face. He bestowed upon her a gorgeous smile she would carry to her deathbed.
“You gave me quite the scare there for a minute.”
She couldn’t imagine him being afraid of anything. “I fell asleep,” she said stupidly, unnecessarily. How disappointing to realize it had all been an enticing dream.
“I’m sure my reading is quite boring.”
“No, it was lovely.” Then she realized she was still hunched in the bathwater, with him so near, but at least he was looking into her eyes, not that she thought he could see much if he did glance down. She should have been self-conscious and perhaps she would have been if not for that ridiculous dream.
He skimmed his finger along the back of her arm. “He bruised you.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“That’s not the point. He never should have touched you.”
“I didn’t give him much of a choice.”
“I noticed. I walked through the door just as you leaped on him. You have a fetching calf, by the way.”
“How do you know?”
“Your skirt hiked up and I was not gallant enough to look away.”
She was growing so warm, she was no doubt reheating the water.
“You’re not accustomed to compliments,” he said quietly.
“I don’t pay them any mind. They’re designed to turn a woman’s head and I don’t want my head turned.” Although he did have the right of it. Gentlemen, other than her brothers, never gave her any. But then she never sought them out or gave any indication she’d welcome them.
“How many bruises have you that I can’t see?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she lifted her shoulder. “A couple here and there. They’re nothing.”
“I know women who take to bed because a bit of parchment nicks their finger.”
She laughed lightly. “No, you don’t. That’s ridiculous.” And their conversation was becoming ludicrous. Not that she minded. She couldn’t recall a gentleman ever making her laugh or feel young, innocent, or silly. Her mum had always told her she’d been born an adult, too responsible for her own good, that she needed to have some fun. Work brought her enjoyment. What more did she need than that? “If you’ll return to your chair and your reading, I’ll scrub up so we can be done with this.”
“How about if I wash your back?”
Her stomach nearly dropped to the bottom of the tub. “That’s too intimate.”
“You washed my arms, my legs, my chest. I daresay every inch.”
“Not every inch.” A good many inches had gone untouched and the thought of them had heat scalding her face. She looked to the fire, seeking to regain her senses, then returned her attention to him. “I knew this was a bad idea. Move away.”
He did so quickly, scooting back until he was sitting several feet away on the floor, his eyes never leaving her. The speed with which he’d responded made it easier to breathe.
“Only your back,” he said quietly.
And she again lost the ability to breathe. “It’s improper.”
