Silently, she grumbled. How dare he make her think of such wicked thoughts? But she had to admit that he was right to make Georgia think they were married. Emmie couldn’t have her reputation ruined, especially if the truth that she was the real daughter of the earl ever came out.
Broderick carried his wet clothes to the door and set them outside in the hallway, closing the door after he was done. He turned around and gave her a grin. “Do I need to help you?”
“No.”
“Then why have you not started to undress?”
“I’m waiting for you to leave first.”
Chuckling, he walked past her and to the bed, where he plopped himself down. He leaned back and folded his arms across the back of his head, stretching his legs out in front of him, sighing heavily. “I think not, my dearwife. I’m staying right here.” He shrugged. “Besides, how would that look to Georgia if she knew the husband had to wait outside the bedroom while the wife undressed?”
She scowled. “Will you at least have the decency to close your eyes?”
He gave her one of his teasing grins then closed his eyes.
The insufferable man!He could be so impossible sometimes. Between one hand and her chin, she tried to keep the blanket as her shield as her other hand fumbled with her clothes. Needless to say, she failed miserably.
“Would you like some help?” Broderick asked without opening his eyes. “I can hear your grunts of frustration and moans of despair.”
She growled, knowing she could not do it without him. “Do you promise to keep your eyes closed?”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Yes, but can I look now before I walk to you?”
“Of course.”
He moved off the bed, grabbed a few towels, and draped them over his shoulder before coming to stand in front of her. Taking hold of the blanket, he held it together.
“Now close your eyes,” she instructed him.
“Why? I will not see you with the blanket around you.”
She scowled. “Just do as I say.”
Wearing a wide grin, he shrugged and followed instructions. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, grateful he couldn’t see. Even with his help, she still struggled, but it was easier thanbefore. She managed to slip off her riding habit, but not her underclothes.
“Keep your eyes closed.” She grabbed a towel and tried to dry herself as much as possible while still standing circled by the blanket. Then she removed his hands from the edges of the blanket and hurried to the bed to retrieve the nightgown. After slipping the gown over her head, she quickly pulled off her wet undergarments. Hastily, she patted the towel on her head to soak up any wetness her hair still held. She then picked up all her clothes and dropped them outside the door beside Broderick’s. Once this was accomplished, she ran to the bed and hopped in, yanking the blankets up to her chin. “All right, I’m ready.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, then chuckled. “Why are you being so modest? Your wet riding habit showed me more of your womanly curves than that nightgown.”
She scowled. He was right. The nightgown billowed over her, yet she still felt so exposed. “I cannot help how I feel. What we are doing here is wrong, and you well know it.”
He laughed again then walked back to the bed, picking up a dry towel on his way. “You know why I’m continuing with this masquerade.” Sitting on the bed, he draped the towel over her head and left it there. “Your hair is still wet. If you don’t dry it, then your nightgown will get wet, as well as the bedsheets and pillows.”
Emmie suspected she looked silly sitting on the bed with a towel over her head while she clutched the blanket with both hands to her chin. She was afraid of letting go of the covers because they might fall away from her.
With one hand she held the blankets, and with the other toweled her hair. When she was done, she threw the towel to the floor and then ran her fingers through her hair, straightening out the tangles, still keeping the blankets from dropping any lower than her chin.
Broderick lay on top of the covers, resting on his side as he watched her. He must think her silly to be so cautious. Although she was supposed to be the earl’s poor relation, she still had morals. She wished he would remove that teasing grin from his face.
“What do you want now? Why are you staring at me?” she snapped self-consciously.
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Pray tell, what is there to figure out?”
“Your actions. Sometimes I can predict what you’re going to do and say next, but other times you take me totally unaware.”
“I’m sorry if I confuse you. I didn’t plan to befuddle your mind.”
