“I am perfectly capable of walking,” she protested for the fourth time since he had insisted upon carrying her from the stables, through the great hall, and up the grand staircase to her room.
He had ignored her every objection, storming through the manor house with her in his arms as if he were a knight of old.
“You’re cold,” he countered grimly, stalking to the fire that crackled in the grate.
Sherborne Manor was notorious for its chill, even in the height of summer. Thankfully, a servant had already seen the fire built for her comfort, for the rain had brought with it a decided burst of cold air. She and Court had frantically packed away the remnants of their picnic and sheltered in the ruins of the castle until the storm had passed. But the heaviness of the rain meant they had both been soaked before they had finally hidden away within the drafty castle’s thick stone walls.
Her lady’s maid came flying out of the small dressing area attached to Vivi’s suite, her eyes going wide when she saw the spectacle they must have presented—long-lost husband and wife, both drenched.
“Your Graces!” Nelson exclaimed. “What has happened? Has Her Grace been injured?”
“I am fine,” Vivi reassured the worried domestic. “We were merely caught in the rain, and the downpour was quite heavy.”
“Please see that a hot bath is drawn for the duchess,” Court told Nelson. “I’ll help her with her garments.”
The lady’s maid dipped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace.”
She disappeared back into the dressing room, which possessed a door on the opposite end leading to the bathroom Vivi had recently seen renovated. Nelson had been with her for years, but it felt somehow odd to be in her bedchamber with Court this way in front of her lady’s maid. Not wrong, for he was Vivi’s husband. But slightly embarrassing. She shivered again, her teeth clacking together, as Court lowered her to the floor before the fire.
“Damn it, I have no wish for you to catch a lung infection,” he muttered, his mouth still set in a firm, grim line.
“I have been caught in the rain before,” she told him, though in truth, she was eager to be rid of her damp garments, which were sticking tenaciously to her skin. “I am certain all shall be well.”
“Nonetheless, it is my fault we were stranded in the rain. If I had paid attention to the skies, I might have spared us the misery of all these blasted wet clothes.” His hands settled on her waist in a proprietary fashion, and he spun her back toward the fire. “Warm yourself while I work on your dress.”
“Nelson is accustomed to assisting me,” she pointed out, disliking the notion of him helping her to disrobe.
For after those wild kisses in the castle bailey, and the way he had so easily and expertly brought her to release, she wasn’t certain she trusted herself to maintain her restraint in his presence. He was hovering over her in proximity, and although he had held her in his arms and carried her here, there was something even more disturbingly intimate about standing face-to-face, knowing he intended to undress her.
“I’m certain she is,” he said mildly, fingers at work on the fastenings of her gown.
He began at her throat, his knuckles grazing over the sensitive skin there, which was apparently as eager for his touch as the rest of her. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice her reaction, and pinned her gaze to the buttons on his shirt above the vee of his tweed waistcoat. Her wet silk began to gape.
She could remain impervious, she told herself. What had happened earlier at the picnic had been an aberration, nothing more. All she had to do was send him away so that she could bathe in peace.
“You needn’t help,” she pointed out firmly, finding her voice. “You ought to go to your chamber and remove your own wet garments, lest you catch an ague yourself.”
“Of course I need to help you.” His baritone was a pleasant rumble that sent a new shiver over her that had nothing to do with her cold, wet gown and petticoats. “I’ve been remiss in my duties for far too long.”
He had. She wouldn’t argue on that score.
Her gown loosened further, her bodice opening to reveal her corset cover, which she had hand-embroidered herself with birds and roses, two of her favorites. He stilled, his gaze lifting from his task to meld with hers.
“Your work?” he asked, although she had no doubt he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” Heat warmed her cheeks.
She felt unaccountably exposed to him, although he had done nothing more than unbutton her bodice three quarters of the way. But her corset cover was an undergarment, something only she and Nelson saw, and despite the fact that Court had seen all of her previously, the notion of him seeing her again was decidedly unsettling.
Because she wanted it more than she wanted anything else.
“It’s beautiful.” Lightly, he traced the pattern of birds and flowers directly over her madly thumping heart. “You were always skilled with a needle, and I know how much you adore roses and birds.”
More facets he had noticed without her even being aware.
New warmth blossomed inside her. “Thank you.”
She cursed herself for the sudden breathless quality of her voice as he reached the last button at her waist. With her bodice hanging limply in two wet halves, Court pulled her sleeves from her arms in smooth, efficient tugs. When it was completely removed, he draped it neatly over the back of a nearby chair before resuming his task.
