“I will not hear any false modesty or belittling of your abilities. Only honesty.”
“Drat it all, woman. That hurt, and I was being honest!” he cursed.
“In that case, I am sorry, but it did not sound that way,” she replied with a modicum of chagrin, “now, if you insist on being such a brute as to remain in the room while I dress, will you at least turn your back?”
Jeremy gave her an elaborate, courtly bow and turned on his heel. He waited, listening to the rustle of fabric as she stripped out of the maid's dress. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he saw a full-length dress mirror opposite him. It was half obscured by a sheet, but the half that was visible showed him Harriet, standing with her back to him.
She bent over, pushing her dress down over her hips. Jeremy was presented with a perfect impression of her bottom, outlined by her shift as it was pulled tight by the descending dress.
Then she was stepping out of it and glancing back over her shoulder, presumably to check that he was not doing precisely what he actually was. Her eyes widened a touch as they met his in the mirror. Jeremy smiled ruefully as he closed his eyes.
“I wouldn't bother, you have already seen what you should not,” she grumbled.
Turning to face her, Jeremy opened his eyes, steadfastly refusing to look at the body outlined by the hugging material of the shift. Harriet had folded her arms beneath her breasts. In his peripheral vision, he could see her pulling at the fabric where it lay over her breasts. The pulling tightened it, making the breast stand out, clearly outlined. His eyes flicked downward, and he found her nipple standing proud against the taut fabric. She had lifted one hand to stroke around the outline of her breast, eyes never leaving his face.
She knows what she is doing. And that knowledge is enough to break my self-control. But it will not.
Harriet bit her lip and gave a sharp intake of breath. Jeremy's resolve broke in spite of himself, and he lunged for her. But she danced out of his reach, laughing and circling him until she stood with her back to the mirror. Reaching back while keeping him at bay with a hand planted against his heaving chest, she whipped the cover from the rest of the mirror.
“You have had the advantage of me. You have watched me undress in this wicked mirror. I think we should even the score—to use a sporting metaphor.”
Jeremy felt as though his blood was afire.
She is a seductress. I am unaccustomed to being seduced, to a woman placing herself in the position of supremacy. It is intensely arousing...
“What do you suggest?” he said, almost panting.
“Now, I will turn my back whileyouundress. But watch you in the mirror,” she professed wickedly.
He quirked a brow. “For a woman who insisted that our relationship become one that is utterly transactional, you are proposing a great deal of intimacy.”
“Itispurely transactional,” she tilted her head like a kitten. “I desire to see you in a state of undress, and you provide that service to me.”
He chuckled deeply. “And what service should I ask for in return?”
Harriet flushed. “I cannot tell you what you desire any more than a merchant can tell their customer.”
“Ah, but a fine merchant might anticipate the desire of his customers and ensure the goods are available,” he countered shrewdly.
He took a step towards her, and her arm bent at the elbow. Leaning close as though to kiss her, he reached for her shoulders and spun her to face the mirror. His reward was her gaspof surprise, quickly stifled. She gazed into the mirror, meeting his eyes as he loomed over her shoulder. Without so much as glancing away, Jeremy discarded his coat and waistcoat, then unlaced his shirt before tugging it from the waistband of his breeches and hauling it over his head, tossing it away casually.
He watched Harriet's eyes rove over his body in the mirror and felt it as a physical touch.
“A man might be without his shirt in public and not attract attention. Laborers on a hot day, for example. A woman is never in her shift except alone or with another woman,” Harriet reflected.
“Another woman? Now,thereis a service you may provide,” he smirked with relish, attempting to gain the upper hand in their dance by shocking her sensibilities.
Indeed, she flushed bright red, but her eyes met his steadfastly.
“Certainly, sir. What other woman would be your pleasure?” she asked.
Jeremy blinked, then allowed his smile to deepen. He would not be bested in this duel. He stepped closer, his hands gently resting on her upper arms, letting her feel the proximity of his bared torso.
“How about your friend Jane?” he whispered.
Harriet's eyes went wide as saucers, and her scarlet cheeks grew even brighter.
“Very well, though I cannot imagine how two women... how... what would...”
