“Really?”
He made a curt nod. “Yes.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “I wasn’t offering you the bed, you know. But the chair over there does not look too uncomfortable, and I dare say it will be better than one of the wooden ones in the taproom. Not to mention the noise down there is unlikely to give you much peace.”
“As true as that may be and as generous as you are being, I still don’t think it is wise for me to remain here.”
“Why? Because you plan to pounce on me when I least expect it?”
That suggestion certainly stirred his blood. “Of course not,” he managed to say while visions of ravishing her swamped his brain.
“Then let’s be practical about this, shall we? You are definitely as cold, tired, and hungry as I. The fact you’re a man does not diminish your need for warmth, rest, or sustenance.”
“I suppose that’s true, though many would disagree.”
“Well, they’re not here right now. It’s only you and I, and I say you ought to have a comfortable spot for the night. What’s your opinion on the matter, practically speaking?”
“Well…”
A knock at the door served as a welcome distraction. Opening it, he found a servant holding a tray with food. Three more men stood behind him, two of them holding a brass tub, while the third carried a pail of water. Alistair waved them inside, maneuvering about so they could set everything down in the decreasing space.
“That does look rather tempting,” Miss Potter said, as soon as the servants had finished filling the tub. It had taken several trips up and down the stairs, but they’d eventually gotten it done. Turning toward her, Alistair found her staring down at the tub. Waves of steam rose from the hot water. Hands on hips, she glanced at where he stood. “Will you go first or shall I?”
The question, posed with a genuine look of concern in her eyes, almost knocked him off his feet. Clenching his fists, he dug his nails against the palms of his hands and focused on that discomfort, hoping it might alleviate another. “You willnotbe bathing in my presence, and I shallnotbe bathing in yours,” he clipped.
“Of course not!” She stared at him. “Heavens, I wasn’t suggesting something that scandalous. It goes without saying that we would step outside to allow the other the privacy they require.”
His limbs felt as though they were going to break beneath the strain of his carefully held control. “Then by all means, proceed. I shall return in fifteen minutes.” And with that, he stepped outside the room, shutting the door behind him while wondering if it was possible to survive seven days of constant arousal, or if it was destined to kill him. Because it sure as hell felt as though it would.
* * *
Sinking into the soothing water, Louise took a moment to think of her situation. If she encouraged him, she’d no doubt in her mind that Lord Alistair’s resolve would waver, and the two of them would enjoy a passionate night together. But as tempting as that was and as attractive as she found him, she could not allow such a thing to happen. Doing so would put everything at risk, because nobody on God’s green earth would want to employ a fallen woman as their governess. And while she was fairly confident Lord Alistair would refrain from mentioning any kisses they happened to share to his niece, Louise could not take the chance of her finding out. Her sisters relied on her too heavily for that.
So she picked up the soap and proceeded to wash. Her friendship with Lord Alistair would be short lived, but it would provide her with wonderful memories to look back on. Not because of the desire he felt for her, but because of how well they’d gotten to know each other, the confidences they’d shared, and the lengthy discussions they’d had.
Every word they’d spoken had strengthened the bond between them in a way she’d initially feared. She’d been wrong to do so, however, because getting to know Lord Alistair properly wasn’t something she could regret. In another place and another life, they would likely have made the perfect match. But they were here, in England, their actions dictated by social protocol. Soon they would arrive at Whitehaven where he would meet the woman whom he was supposed to marry. She was going to be a governess, and their lives, so intertwined in this moment, would move apart once more.
With this in mind, she finished her bath and stepped out of the tub, drying herself with the towel. She would count her blessings and the chance she’d had to know a remarkable man – a man who wasn’t too proud to help his servants, a man who put aside his own wants and needs in favor of doing what was right, a man determined to do his duty whether that meant adhering to his brother’s demands or finding a way to provide for himself without relying on others.
Managing to throw her dress over her head two seconds before he returned to knock on the door, Louise hastily tied the ribbons in place while she called for him to enter. He strode in with a grim expression hardening his features. The door closed behind him, and he stopped to take her in. She held her breath, unsure of what he might be thinking, then watched as his gaze slid sideways toward the bed where her undergarments were strewn about. Being in a hurry to finish up, she hadn’t put them back on again, though she wished she’d at least tidied them away.
When he considered her next, it was with flames dancing in his eyes. His throat worked and he dropped his gaze to allow for a slow and studious perusal of her entire body. Her belly tightened against a surge of heat, her skin tingling in anticipation of what he might do. Pointing toward the bed, he closed his eyes on a tortured breath. “Please put those things away.”
His request propelled her into action. Hastening forward she snatched up her stays, her stockings, and her chemise and stuffed them into her bag. She then hurried toward the door, grabbing her boots while she went, which forced her to move right past him, her arm brushing his as she did so.
The sharp inhale of breath he took sent shivers racing up her spine, and then she felt his hand upon her wrist, clutching her tight and halting her progress. “Will you save me from my insanity, Miss Potter?”
Swallowing in the face of his resistance, she lifted her chin toward his anguished expression. “I cannot.”
His jaw seemed to harden against her words, but he bowed his head in submission. “Of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking to ask.” And without speaking another word, he turned on his heel, flung open the door, and stormed out.
* * *
Spendingthe night on a wooden bench in the taproom wasn’t Alistair’s idea of fun, but it had been necessary. After exiting Miss Potter’s room so she could bathe, he’d gone for a brisk walk in the snow and had imagined himself capable of joining her for supper. Until he’d seen her standing there with her hair unpinned, the tips dripping wet, and her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress.
He’d averted his gaze only to find himself staring at her undergarments lying on the bed, which meant she’d been utterly naked beneath the grey wool she’d been wearing. This thought had, in the space of one second, led to others. He’d imagined pulling the gown up over her head and taking a thorough look at her, of flinging her onto the bed and delving between her thighs in ways that topped his most erotic fantasies.
But when he’d asked for permission to do exactly that, she’d denied him. And rightfully so. In fact, he was glad of it, because what sort of woman would she be if she had allowed him to have his way with her like that? Christ, he was being a selfish scoundrel. She was an innocent woman whom his niece had asked him to escort to her home. The only problem was he’d been expecting a middle-aged spinster, not a goddess.
