“I don’t want a mistress, either.”
He probably burned through them at a rate of one a week.
“I was referring to your guests for the Autumn Masque. You said I’d top most men’s list. Why not use me to your advantage? I could be the entertainment.”
He clasped her elbow. “Over my dead body.”
Satisfied she’d achieved the desired effect, she tugged her arm free. Somehow, she had to persuade him to let her stay.
“You hurt me. And now you must make amends. I’m your responsibility, whether you like it or not. I deserve a home. An income. You stole my airs and graces, and so I’m more than happy to work as a maid.”
He stepped back, dragged his shirt over his head and threw it on the leather chair. “It’s not safe for you here.”
Her gaze dropped of its own volition.
Cook had always said she was a greedy minx, and she couldn’t help but sneak one look at Mr Hawke’s muscular chest.
Well. Maybe two. Three, if one counted the slow glide to where that trail of dark hair vanished beneath his waistband.
“Pour the water into the basin. If you want to work as a maid, let’s see if you can follow orders.”
He began unbuttoning the fall of his trousers.
Good heavens above.
“I can be obedient. You’ll scarcely know I’m here.”
“A man would need to be deaf and blind to miss you, Miss Harland. Now hurry. Before the water goes cold. Consider this a test. You’ll need to grow accustomed to nakedness if you want to keep your position.”
There was no danger of the water chilling. She was warming it with the heat from her cheeks. She lifted the bucket with as much grace as she could muster and poured, determined not to spill a single drop.
She saw him fling his trousers onto the bed.
“Once I step in, take a firm grip and pump hard.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The mechanism, Miss Harland. How else shall I bathe?”
She might have shot him an irate glare, but daren’t look above his firm calves. Dark hair lay against skin drawn taut over corded muscle. And she cursed her own curiosity.
She gripped the handle with both hands and began siphoning water from the basin into the tank above.
“Faster, Miss Harland. A man might freeze to death.”
“I’m going as fast as I can. It’s extremely stiff.”
Thank heavens Mr Beattie wasn’t listening at the door. Doubtless he’d insist she empty the water and start again.
“How long should I pump?”
“Until I’m satisfied you’re up to the task.” She could hear the laughter in his voice. “Look at me, Miss Harland, so I know you’re listening.”
She knew what he wanted. To embarrass her. To remindher this was a house of sin. To suggest his weekend guests might expect more than a steady hand at the pump. And to see where her greedy eyes would settle.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t take the bait.
Lady Soanes’ warning echoed like a bell.
