Page 54 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
She still wasn’t certain bathing with him about was wise, but she did trust him, which was also probably not wise. Obviously the blow had knocked all good sense out of her head.
He stopped at the threshold. “I’ll close the door to give you some privacy, but call out once you’re situated so I can open it.”
“I think it should stay closed.”
He studied her for all a heartbeat. “As you wish.”
Why was she suddenly hit with disappointment?
“But call out if you need me, and let me know when you’re done. If you’re not finished in a half hour, say, I shall open the door to ensure nothing is amiss—that you’re not sleeping.”
“I’m not going to sleep.”
Words easier said than carried out once she sank into the heavenly abyss of warm water. Every muscle in her body ached and the heat seeping through to her bones made everything seem so much better. Charlie, blast him, had delivered a few hard blows, strategically delivered to the softest parts of her. Or maybe it hadn’t been strategic at all. Merely luck. He’d never struck her as much of a thinker. If he had the ability to reason at all, he’d have deduced that attacking anyone near her establishment would not go well for him, especially when he was idiotic enough to return to the tavern. If he were smart, he’d have gone elsewhere, but he was more a creature of habit and usually stopped in every now and then for a pint.
“Is everything all right?” was bellowed from beyond the wall.
“I’m fine!”
“Are you in the tub?”
“Yes.”
“Very good.”
Then he began to read in a deep, loud voice that penetrated through the thin walls of her apartment. If her brothers were still clearing up the mess, they were going to hear him. Unless Beast was able to convince him otherwise, Aiden would head up, and she didn’t need him to see her soaking in the tub, naked, with a strange man in her flat. “Open the door!” she called out.
He didn’t question her or hesitate. Suddenly the door sprang open. She only caught sight of his arm shoving it. Then he began reading again.
Lowering herself into the water as much as she was able, she hunched over and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Come in.”
Again, no hesitation. It took everything within her not to smile at his innocent expression.
“Are you not enjoying the story?” he asked, holding upThe Moonstone.
“I’m not enjoying your bellowing. You may sit in here, in the rocker, but turn it so your back is to me.”
“Very good.” He moved the chair into place, keeping his eyes averted. When he was situated, he asked, “Shall I continue?”
“Yes, please.” Placing her cheek on her upraised knees, she watched the motion of his rocking, forward and back, forward and back, listened to the mesmerizing cadence of his voice as the narrator explained the origins of a diamond that would play a major role in the story. She’d already read it, but he was bringing the tale to life in a way that simply reading it to herself hadn’t. He was carrying her into a mysterious world, not so much woven by the author, but woven by Thorne. He poured energy into his reading. It wasn’t just words repeated. His voice wove around her, through her. The light from the flames on the hearth danced over his dark hair, over his shoulders, across his back.
With very little effort, he was luring her, luring her, luring her...
Without making so much as a splash, she brought herself to her feet, the water sluicing down her body, glistening her skin in the process. Quietly, she stepped out of the tub and slowly ambled toward him. He barely did more than lift his gaze to her when she took the book from his hands and tossed it aside. His nostrils flared, his eyes smoldered, his lips parted. Desire, want, need shimmered off him.
She settled onto his lap, not at all surprised to find herself dry. She wound a bare arm around his neck, cradled his strong jaw with her other hand. “It should be a sin for a man to be as beautiful as you.”
“I prefer handsome.”
She skimmed her fingers up his face, into his hair. “You make me want to do wicked things.”
Closing her eyes, she lowered her mouth—
“Gillie.”
—to his, gave her tongue the freedom to roam—
“Gillie.”
