There, standing in the doorway with her shift clutched in his hands, wasTristan. His smile widened wolfishly.
“I do apologize, I didn’t mean to give you such a start,” he drawled, tossing her shift to the side.
Madeline choked on her own bathwater.
“I thought you had gone to bed!” she managed.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You have not gone to bed. Why should I?”
It seemed wise to change tack. Horribly aware that she was, in fact, naked underneath her bathrobe, Madeline narrowed her eyes at him.
“Why are you here? You had better leave at once.”
He grinned, making no move at all to do so.
“I came to talk to you about Adam. I did knock. At the door to your bedroom, at least,” he added.
“And hearing no response, you chose to walk in, I suppose,” Madeline snapped. “And then wandered into my washroom, of all places. If you want to talk, you will have to wait until I am dressed. I certainly hope nobody saw you enter.”
He tutted. “Nobody is to see me enter your room? My dear duchess, we can’t have them all thinking I haven’t done my duty to you.”
“Hand me that drying sheet, and step out of the room at once while I dry off!” Madeline insisted.
He complied, chuckling, and handed her a drying sheet, which she extended one wet hand to take. Of course, she made no attempt to get out of the bathwater until the wretched fellow had stepped out of the washroom. He did not, she noticed to her chagrin, close the door; instead, he simply moved around behind the wall. He did not appear to be peeping, though, so Madeline got up quickly, wrapping the drying sheet around herself. Her hair was wet only at the ends, where it had dangled in the water, and she was soon reasonably dry.
That was when the second problem presented itself.
She had not brought a nightdress or robe into the washroom. Had she been alone when this happened, she would have hurried into her room, clothed in the drying sheet, but of course, this was no longer an option. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.
“Ahem. Tristan, I…”
She trailed off when his arm appeared in the doorway, holding a flowered robe.
“I thought you might require this, duchess,” he said, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.
Madeline let out a ragged breath. “Thank you.”
She hurried over and tried to take the robe from his grasp. He hung on and appeared in the doorway. She flinched, backedaway, and made sure that the sheet was firmly wrapped around herself.
“I will help you into this,” Tristan said firmly.
Madeline pressed her lips together. “No, thank you.”
“I can hardly insist, but think of it this way—it will be a test of your trust in me.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Trust?”
“Exactly so. You do not trust me, my dear. So, I will close my eyes, you will divest yourself of the drying sheet, and slide your arms into this robe. I will not open my eyes until you are covered again, and then you will know that when I give you my word, it can be trusted.”
“How am I to know that you won’t simply open your eyes when my back is turned?”
Tristan pointed to a long mirror, half-steamed up, sitting in the corner of the washroom. “Well, you may watch me, if you like.”
“What if I refuse?”
He chuckled. “I am not going to tear away your covering and ravish you. I might be a devil, but I’m hardly a monster. You can command me to go, and I will have to do just that. But wouldn’tit be better to finally have a little trust between us? You will know that I can be trusted, andIwill know that you are willing to trust me. We will both win. Well? What do you say?”
There was a long silence before Madeline responded. She stared up at Tristan, trying to read his face.
