She stepped behind the tent—there was hardly enough room for her to change inside—and unhooked the buttons at the front of her dress.
She’d never disrobed outside and experienced yet another odd sense of abandon as she lay her gown atop her trunk. She could sleep in her chemise, but a quick sniff had her untying the laces of her minimal corset and stripping it off as well.
Cool air skimmed along her skin in much the way she imagined a gentle lover might tease her with his fingertips. But that was not going to happen for her.
But… could it? She lifted her hands to her hair and removed the pins from the twist she’d made that morning.
She’d been so certain she’d never marry again, for so very long. But she hadn’t met Mr. Bateman yet.
Lost in her thoughts, she drew her fingers through her hair, and then the brush that used to be her mother’s.
Not that Mr. Bateman would ever wish to marry her, but he’d made her wonder if there might be something more.
After weaving her hair into a single long braid, she dropped lavender scented oil into the water, wet a cloth and then lazily wiped her face and neck. An indolent and sensual feeling had taken a hold of her. It was the wine making her feel this way. Of course, it had to be the wine.
She skimmed the cloth along her chest, lazily lavishing more attention to her breasts than normal.
Would he laugh at her if she released him from his promise, finding her amusing once again? Or would he kiss her?
She lay the cloth against her chest and moved her fingertips to the undersides of her breasts, imagining for a moment that it was his hands that touched her.
A few barks from Mr. Dog had her turning to grasp at her night rail. What on earth was she doing? What if he’d returned?
Aubrey drew the gown over her head and then quickly scrubbed the cloth over her legs and between her thighs before rinsing it out and placing it beside her soiled gown to dry.
“Are you decent yet?”
“Just a moment.” Aubrey slipped her arms into her dressing gown. “I’m ready.” And for some reason these words had her blushing in the dark. She sounded like a bride who’d prepared for her groom.
Ridiculous. She’d obviously been reading too many romantic stories lately. Mrs. Tuttle had regaled Aubrey with some of the details of her own, wonderful wedding night, going so far as to explain far more to her than her mother ever had.
Mr. Bateman walked around the tent and for the first time since she’d known him, seemed slightly uncomfortable. “He refused to lift his leg.” His voice sounded somewhat garbled. He cleared it and then added. “Perhaps you’d like to try?”
Aubrey realized he was giving her an opportunity to relieve herself as well, without having to mention anything embarrassing.
Nodding, and feeling grateful, she slipped her feet into her half boots once again and took Mr. Dog’s leading string. Still feeling lightheaded and… carefree… she wandered to the other side of the tent until she located a convenient place for herself behind a bush.
Squatting down, she watched Mr. Bateman’s shadow from her distant vantage point almost absent-mindedly. The firelight illuminated his person from behind, casting the perfect shadow so that the tent barely concealed a thing, as he removed his shirt and then splashed water onto his face.
She finished her business and then walked around until Mr. Dog saw fit to do so as well. It wasn’t until she strode back toward the tent that she realized.
He could just as easily have watched her.
And when she remembered the expression on his face when he returned, her heart jumped.
He’d seen everything.
Chapter 7
Aubrey
Rather than acknowledge him when she returned, Aubrey slipped off her boots and climbed directly into the tent, Mr. Dog right behind her. The temperature in the air had dropped considerably and now that she was some distance from the fire, she ought to have been cold. Instead, she burned all over.
That didn’t stop her from climbing under the quilt to hide as much of herself as possible. Laying there, Mr. Dog curled up behind her knees, she heard Mr. Bateman’s every footstep. He seemed to be doing something with the fire, then putting some items into the carriage, and eventually his sounds drew to a halt at the foot of the tent.
She held her breath as he removed his shoes and then crawled along the quilt less than a foot separating the two of them.
Mr. Dog, however, felt it necessary to welcome Mr. Bateman into the small sleeping area by nosing out from beneath the covers and then dragging his long body over the folded quilt that lay between them.
