Mr. Crawford watched her go with an underlying hint of amusement in his eyes. His fingers undid another button on the waistcoat, and Mary fumbled for the door handle somewhere behind her. Finding it, she allowed the escape it offered to calm her nerves.
“I will return shortly,” she said with a hoarse whisper she barely recognized as her own. And then she fled into the hallway, desperate for a moment’s reprieve from the man who addled her brain and left her longing for his embrace.
“I need a blanket,” she told Cassandra and Emily when she met them on the upstairs landing. “Mr. Crawford…” She glanced to one side, too distressed to offer a proper explanation.
“I see,” Cassandra said.
Brushing past her friends, Mary hurried into her own bedchamber, threw open the lid of the trunk at the foot of her bed, and pulled out a thick wool blanket she only used during the coldest winter months.
“Well, you’d best go and make sure he gets it,” Emily said from her position next to the door. The two women had followed Mary into her room and were both watching her with great interest.
“He was very wet when he came in,” Cassandra said. “The sooner he gets warmed up the better.”
“Can you manage on your own?” Emily asked with a yawn.
Cassandra promptly yawned as well. “It has been such a long day, and we are both rather tired. In fact, we were just off to bed when you met us in the hallway.”
“You were heading toward the stairs,” Mary said. She held the blanket against her chest, taking comfort in its warmth.
“Only with the intention of asking you about Mr. Crawford’s condition.” Emily’s expression was too serene to be taken seriously. “As long as you think you can manage without our assistance, I do believe we’ll retire.”
“I never said—”
“He’s welcome to stay on the sofa so he doesn’t have to go back out into that awful weather,” Cassandra said. “Just tell him to get undressed first so he doesn’t leave watermarks on the upholstery.”
Mary stared at her friends who were both pressing their lips together in obvious attempts to stifle their laughter. “You’re awful,” she said. “Do you know that?”
“Hmm…” Cassandra murmured. “I do believe you’ll thank us later. Good night.”
She left the room with Emily close on her heels. The sound of doors opening and closing nearby could be heard, followed by silence. Mary gripped the blanket harder, squared her shoulders, and strode toward the stairs. Her friends were being ridiculous. Shewas being ridiculous. Mr. Crawford was chilled to the bone and in dire need of her help. That was all there was to it.
But when she opened the door to the parlor without thinking to knock, she saw that there was nothing ridiculous about this situation and that it threatened to become far more complicated than she had ever imagined it could. Because there he stood before the fire just as she’d left him, except he’d not only shucked his waistcoat, but his shirt, boots and hose as well. Indeed, he was completely naked save for the breeches that still preserved what remained of his modesty, and by God if he wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life!
Granted, his back was turned toward her, but it was the sort of back that was made to be admired. Muscle sculpted it to perfection, dipping inward toward his spine. His shoulders were broad and further accentuated by the well-defined shape of his biceps. Mary’s gaze traveled lower to his tapered waistline and the molded shape of his bottom. Her mouth went dry, and it took some effort to tear her gaze away from that part of his body. But to ogle that area was most improper. Certainly more so than it was to admire the rest. So she dropped her gaze further, to the bare calves dusted by dark brown hair and the feet that were firmly planted on the parlor floor.
“You should probably close the door,” he said, jolting Mary so forcefully she actually jumped.
Her chin jerked up, and to her absolute horror she saw he was watching her over his shoulder. Heat erupted inside her, and her stomach immediately dropped all the way to her toes. Embarrassed, she turned and closed the door behind her, pausing with her face toward it and her back toward Mr. Crawford for a minute in order to catch her breath and slow the beat of her racing heart.
“Are you all right?” she heard him ask.
“Perfectly,” she said with the most unsteady voice she’d ever used.
“I’m sorry if I have unsettled you, Miss Clemens, but I needed to get out of the wet clothes in order to warm up.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She took a deep breath and clutched the blanket even tighter before turning back to face him. “I…er…I brought you this.”
His gaze dropped to the blanket. “Thank you.”
“And Cassandra says you can sleep on the sofa just as long as you don’t get it wet.” She forced her feet forward one at a time until she was close enough to hand over the blanket. “It will save you from having to go back out into the storm.”
“I appreciate that,” he murmured. Accepting the blanket, he unfolded it completely and wrapped it around himself to cocoon most of his body from his armpits to his ankles.
Feeling as though she could breathe again, Mary went to make herself a cup of tea. “How was your horse?” she asked while taking care not to spill the tea on the table as she poured.
“A little anxious. He doesn’t like this kind of weather, but stroking his muzzle for a while seemed to sooth him.”
“I’m sorry we don’t have a proper stable.” She took a sip of her tea and sighed.
