Warmth seeped through her as she pressed against the fabric of his shirt. The initial shock of her cold skirts pressed tightly against her was now being replaced with warmth from his arms.
If she weren’t so frustrated, she might actually enjoy it.
“I see you’re not giving any argument,” he said.
“I can’t see how my arguing would change anything,” she replied.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, resounding against her limbs. “You’re right in that.”
She was about to say something but noticed he was walking out into the second floor. “My roo-chambers are not here my lord, but . . . below.” She spoke, the idea of it reminding her of her humble position.
He paused, turning a confused glance to her. “You mean Mrs. Keyes gave you the nursery quarters? When we’ve at least thirty rooms available?”
Miranda frowned, not seeing the problem. “Of course. Why would I be anywhere else?”
Something flickered in his gaze, an understanding of sorts before he gave a small nod. “I see.”
“I’m afraid I do not. And I’m soaking you as well.” She glanced to the almost transparent white shirt pressed against her skirts. Belatedly, she realized she was able to answer her own question.
Yes. His body was as solid as granite.
Her fingers, pressed against the back of his neck for support, registered a thousand sensations all at once, as if absorbing as much information as possible, as quickly as possible. Soft, warm, smooth, tight, it was an overload of her senses, and she scrambled to identify each one.
“Let’s count it as my penance for a late apology.” He smiled kindly, then continued down the hall.
She opened her mouth to say something in reply, then closed it when no intelligent remark came to mind. She was growing far too . . . aware of him. His arms were placed just beneath her bottom, and his hands gripped her upper thighs as he walked. His other arm wound around her back, making his hand scandalously close to her—
“What in heaven’s name!” Mrs. Keyes all but shouted, drawing Miranda’s attention.
“Ach, I scared the wee lass and she tumbled into the pond,” he answered with a hint of remorse.
She was shocked it held any at all.
“She’s drippin’ wet!”
“I said she fell in the pond, Mrs. Keyes. Did you think she miraculously didn’t get wet?” he answered with a chuckle as he turned toward a room with a double door.
“There’s nothing to be done for it now, I suppose. I’ll fetch some clothes for the poor lass.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Keyes. And I’m dreadfully sorry I’m dripping on the floor,” Miranda added.
“Isn’t your fault. It’s his.” She jabbed a thumb at the viscount, cackled, then rushed off to collect the items.
He opened the door and took a few steps inside, then, with a gentleness she wouldn’t have suspected, he tenderly set her down on her feet.
“Th-thank you,” she murmured, missing the heat of his body immediately.
“You’re welcome.” He ran his hand through his sandy hair, stretching the fabric of his transparent shirt over the skin of his chest.
Miranda’s face heated with a blush even as her heart beat faster at the imagery it created. “I’m sure Mrs. Keyes can assist me from here,” she added, wanting to be rid of him. Her senses and emotions could only take so much.
He’d wreaked havoc on both.
He nodded once, his gaze meeting her eyes, then lowered, traveling the length of her body till she was sure he was studying her slippers. His gaze was like a touch, caressing every inch of her body, making her breathless. With a low curse, he turned and left.
It was a few moments later, after she’d recovered, when she glanced down at herself.
Just as his shirt had become transparent from the water, so had her dress.
