He ignored her and drew it over her head. “There, now. I just have. No more arguing, if you please.”
“Vexing man,” she muttered.
All the fight seemed to drain from her then, and she allowed him to make quick work of her petticoat and stays. She stood before him, clad in nothing more than her chemise. And it was transparent.Lord, God.He forgot how to swallow for a moment as he took in the hint of her dusky nipples, puckered and stiff, poking the fabric, and the shadow at the apex of her thighs.
But then, her teeth started to chatter once more, and he was reminded of the reason he had just disrobed her. Which was not to ogle her, regardless of how mouthwatering the sight of Pru in chemise only truly was.
He urged her to sit, and then tucked the fur all around her before dropping to his knees once more. Her boots were covered in snow, and he would wager her toes were freezing within, since she wore nothing more than her stockings beneath, even if they were thick winter stockings.
“What are you doing now?” she protested weakly, but she made no effort to move her feet.
Instead, she snuggled deeper into the settee, wrapping the fur more firmly about herself. He quickly undid her boots and pulled them off. Her stockinged feet were cold and wet as he held them in his hands to warm them.
“Your toes are like ice,” he said. “It is a damned good thing I carried you back here, Pru. It is far too cold out for you to be worried over your pride.”
“Oh,” she said on a soft little sigh that sent a bolt of lust straight through him. “That does feel so much better, Lord Ashley.”
He squeezed her toes, then rubbed each foot tenderly between his hands, trying to warm her as best as he could. Ash did not think he had ever before taken note of a lady’s feet. Certainly, he had never taken the time to stop and admire them with past lovers. And yet, he could not help but to find even Pru’s feet entrancing. They were dainty and small in his hands, her ankles perfectly curved, and leading to calves that were mostly hidden beneath the fur.
But he knew from his initial attempt to discern where she had injured herself in her fall that her calves were sleek and gorgeous. Just like the rest of her. Every part of this woman intrigued him. There was not one bit of her he did not find utterly mesmerizing.
“Do your toes feel warmer, sweet?” he forced himself to ask through a voice gone thick with desire.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Much warmer now, thank you.”
“Excellent.” He tucked the fur around them, and then he stood.
That was when he made his second realization of the day, and quite belatedly. He, too, was soaked. Because he had pursued her in nothing but his shirtsleeves, the lawn of his shirt was now chilled and sticking to his skin. His breeches were wet, as were his boots.
There was no hope for it. He was going to have to strip himself of his sodden garments and join her beneath the fur. Naturally, the prospect held its own appeal.
He opened the buttons of his waistcoat, his eyes on her. “My clothing is soaked as well. We will have to huddle together beneath the fur while our garments dry by the fire.
Her eyes went wide. “You…are taking off your shirt?”
“Yes,” he said agreeably, hoping the prospect made her at least feel even a modicum of the longing coursing through him for her. “And my breeches as well.”
“Your breeches?” The last emerged from her as a squeak.
He could not stifle his grin. “That is what I just said, sweet.”
“But you cannot,” she said, once more back to her proper self now that she was warming.
“On the contrary. I can, and I will. You may, of course, avert your gaze as it pleases you.” He shucked his waistcoat and carried it to the fire along with her garments, laying them neatly on the hearth in an effort to dry them. “But you need not fear my modesty, Pru. I do not mind if you look.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” she denied.
He cast her a knowing glance. “As you wish.” And then he hauled his shirt over his head.
When he had removed it, she was still staring at him, her eyes devouring his torso. Ash knew what the hunger in her gaze meant. He had seen it before. She found his chest appealing. Here, at last, was a sign that she was not as unaffected and disapproving as she would like to pretend.
Thank God, because he was still determined to make her his bride. He would simply go on wooing her and persuading her until he earned ayesfrom those delectable lips instead of a politeno thank you.
He stoked the fire, then, all too aware of how symbolic the act was. If only success with Pru was as easy to achieve. But though he had not convinced her yet, he possessed two traits that would serve him well now: patience and persistence.
And he had no qualms about putting both—not to mention his body—to use in aiding his quest to make Pru Winter his, once and for all.
Pru told herselfto look away.
