“I wasn't going to. I think we both earned that kiss.”
Willa couldn’t argue. They'd earned more than that, but he was ill, and she was supposed to be taking care of him, not seducing him. He had a fever for heaven’s sake. He might not be thinking with all his faculties.
“I’ll give you privacy now,” she said. She retreated around the screen, crawling onto the bed and lying back but still watching him, tortured by the outline of him in the tub as he finished washing himself.
Chapter 17
He turned his head to watch the fire, the warmth of his body balancing out the tepid water. Was he wrong to do it? He didn’t care. Maybe that was the laudanum talking, but he’d had to kiss her. The feel of her hands on his back, the slow circles of her fingers dragging across his skin. He'd instantly gone hard.
He wanted to pull her into the tub to feel her body along the length of his, but he settled for a kiss because a kiss was all he could give her in return. He was losing his head and his heart. He didn't know how to return to sanity, to a state where he didn't crave her. The more time they spent together, the more he wanted her.
The thought that this might end badly between them tortured him more than the wound in his head. The wound was healing. How could he survive the worst injury of his life—as far as he knew—and not live to claim the woman who had carried him through his darkest hours? What if he wasn't good enough?
She seemed to think highly of him, but dare he think it? She wanted him in return as evidenced by the way she touched him. Was it possible to know a woman's heart by the way she touched? He thought so, but she hid her feelings well. She never pulled away, and if anything, she was getting closer to him, more comfortable with their intimacy. But where would it end or rather, where would it lead? He didn’t want to think about the future anymore. Not tonight.
He finished washing, and though he knew he shouldn't, the devil on his shoulder suggested he ask for her help. He was just tired enough or maybe inebriated enough by the doctor’s medicine to throw caution out the window.
“Can you help me?” he asked. “I'm ready to get out.”
“Of course.” She rushed from the bed and around the screen. He raised his arms on the edges of the tub, and she came behind him to help boost him forward onto his feet. He gripped the towel before it fell into the water and stood in the tub.
She wrapped a towel around his shoulders and turned her back to him. He entertained the idea of dropping both towels before deciding he shouldn't push things too far. If or when they figured out who he was and whether his heart was free, he'd save those impulses for when they could be together as man and wife. Unhindered by his lack of memory and identity.
He wrapped the towel snugly around his waist. “Ready,” he said.
She turned and offered her arm to give him balance. She led him to the chair.
“Do you want to just climb into bed? I was going to have Mrs. Davies launder your clothing tomorrow morning.”
“I need to dry myself first, but then I’d like to wear my small clothes to bed.”
I shouldn't say it.
Damn it, he was going to say it. “I don't want you to sleep in the chair tonight. Lay on the bed with me. You deserve a better night’s rest. We are married, after all.
He didn't know if it was the glow of the fire or if her cheeks filled with color, but she had a lovely rosy glow to her.
“I'm not certain we should,” she said.
He took her hand and pressed it to his bare chest. “I'm not sure we should either, but I need to hold you tonight. I want to know you're well rested. I promise that's all.”
She chewed her lip. He noticed she did that often before she spoke. Perhaps it was a sign of indecision, a self-imposed filter as she considered what she was about to say.
“We've already broken all the rules. What's one more?”
Her lips twitched. “Very well. I'll sleep on the other side of the bed.”
He grinned, not that she could see his excitement unless she looked down. “That's all I ask. I can’t have my guardian angel falling sick.”
She looked down. He was certain she was blushing. But did she notice the tent in his towel? He glanced down, relieved to see his erection wasn’t making a spectacle of itself.
“Now I'll give you some privacy.” She went back to the other side of the screen while he donned his drawers. They didn't leave much to the imagination, thin cotton that they were. He was on full display and a bit aroused. He would shock her. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he wrapped the towel around his waist again and went to the side of the bed. He lifted the covers before dropping the towel and slipped inside.
Luckily, her back was to him.
She glanced over her shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bathe as well. I set a pail by the fire to warm.”
“Enjoy your bath,” he said.
