Every inch of Miss Bright was on display as the pale blue fabric clung to her breasts, molded over her stomach, and — sweet Mary — tucked into the apex between her thighs.
He swallowed and glanced at the footman who was ogling her. Philip could hardly blame the young man.
“Let’s get you inside Northumberland’s house and see if a maid can help dry you off.”
Apparently unaware of the display of her assets, she nodded and strolled ahead of him, giving a view of her backside that had him aroused before they reached the rose gardens.
“I really liked that parasol,” she called over her shoulder.
He was starting to like that spider who’d caused the mishap and struggled to wipe the silly grin off his face.
Once inside the back entrance, they stood in silence, and Philip tried to keep his glance off of her.
“Where is everybody?” he wondered.
“When the cat’s away,” she began.
“I take it you think the servants are the mice playing somewhere in the house.”
She shrugged and unwittingly showed him her dusky nipples through the fabric.
“Are you growing chilled?” he asked.
“I am,” she confessed. “How did you know?”
He looked away. “Just guessing.”
Making a decision, he took her hand, mounting the backstairs two at a time. They wandered along the corridor, and still, no servant came into view. This was a rake’s dream and, thus, Philip’s nightmare. Every ounce of blood in his body was singing with desire.
With trepidation, he opened a door and peered inside. Luckily, it was a bedroom and it had a wardrobe. He dropped her hand and headed for it.
“Thank my lucky stars,” he said upon seeing women’s dresses. She stood beside him and peered in.
“I cannot simply steal someone’s clothing.”
“You can’t parade around outdoors like that,” he insisted. “And I can’t take you in the Coxleys’ carriage soaking wet. You’ll stain the squabs. More importantly, you’re too exposed.”
“What about yourself?” she asked, reaching to touch one of the gowns.
“I’m fine. Uncomfortable as a monk in a hair habit, but I’ll survive until I get home. I can sit on the carriage floor if need be.”
“Then I shall, too,” she said. “After all, it was my fault.”
He looked at her. It was a mistake. As she sighed, her breasts rose, bringing her nipples to the forefront again.
“You will change,” he said firmly, “and I shall wait outside.”
He crossed the room to the open door and nearly made it out when the wicked reprobate in him added, “That is, unless you need assistance.”
The strangest expression crossed Miss Bright’s face, and she chewed upon her lower lip, driving a shard of lust straight to his loins.
Send me away,he commanded silently.
“You could be of assistance,” she said in a soft voice.
He slammed the door shut and found himself still on the same side as this beautiful woman.
“What can I do?” His voice croaked like a frog, and he cleared it.
