He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Grinning as though he found her response incredibly amusing, he swung toward the stairs. “Come on then. Let’s go and see if I am correct.”
“You want me to come with you?” She wasn’t so sure that was wise. Least of all now that he was presenting her with a marvelous view of what appeared to be a very fine backside indeed. Her mouth began to water. If only she didn’t want him as much as she did.
“Of course,” he called as he started up the stairs, his breeches stretching across his thighs as he went. “This is your place of business, Viola. I believe you will want to make sure it is decorated according to your wishes.”
Certainly, but did that really have to involve a flutter in the pit of her belly or an endless series of hot little shivers caressing her skin? With a sigh, she followed him, resigning herself to the all-too-familiar state he was putting her in. For years she’d endeavored to avoid falling prey to desire again, to save herself from the type of heartache Robert had once caused her. And yet within a week and a half, Mr. Lowell had awakened a hunger inside her—a craving that only grew with each passing second. Worst of all, she felt increasingly powerless to stop it.
Did that make her wanton? Perhaps, but if that were the case then surely she would have had similar responses to other men, like Florian, for instance. Yet she’d never felt anything but friendship toward him even though she was able to acknowledge his handsomeness. And if she were perfectly honest, her feelings for Robert had been entirely different from the ones she now experienced toward Mr. Lowell. With Robert, she’d known the infatuation of a young girl whose heart had been free and ready to love. With Mr. Lowell, she felt the restraint of that misplaced trust while desperately hoping she might one day be brave enough to accept the secret yearnings of her mind, body and soul. Yearnings she’d thought long dead until Mr. Lowell had awakened them with his cheeky smiles and sparkling eyes.
Entering the room he’d mentioned earlier, she found him crouched on the floor as he rolled out the rug. He raised his gaze to her only briefly before continuing with his task. A dazzling pattern of cobalt blue intertwined with gold graced the dark wood floor, complementing the wall color beautifully.
“What do you think?” Mr. Lowell asked. Straightening himself, he stood and took a step back to admire the piece.
Viola could only tell him the truth. “It is perfect.”
“I quite agree.” His voice had softened and when she looked up, she saw he was watching her closely.
But then he spun away as if surveying the space, and she was left to wonder if she’d imagined the gleam of desire in his eyes. Her heart told her it was real but her brain insisted she must be deluding herself, because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that she was far from perfect and that a man as handsome as Mr. Lowell couldn’t possibly think otherwise, in spite of his words to the contrary.
“This seems a bit out of place,” he said, indicating a narrow table that was shoved up against one wall. “And there’s a hole in it.”
Crossing to where he stood, Viola looked at the spot to which he pointed. “That’s intentional.” Her heart sped up a little for some absurd reason. “This table will be in the center of the room. It’s intended for a client to lie on while having hand pressure applied to their backs and shoulders. I’ve actually hired a Chinese couple who specialize in this technique. The wife will tend to the women and the husband to the men. The hole is there so the client’s face won’t be pressed into the mattress—so they can breathe more freely.”
“I see.” Mr. Lowell nodded as if her explanation made perfect sense. “Shall we move it into position then?” Grabbing one end of the table, Mr. Lowell lifted it slightly, testing the weight. “It’s not too heavy. We can easily manage without disturbing the workers.”
His inclination to do the job himself instead of being one of those pompous aristocrats who stood about barking orders for servants to follow made the wall Viola had built around her heart dissolve even further. He wasn’t just a handsome face or a bit of fun company. He was also useful and unassuming, and as Viola picked up the other end of the table and helped him maneuver it into the middle of the room, she decided that she not only liked him but respected him. A lot.
“There. That wasn’t too difficult.” He gave her a wink, and happiness curled her toes. “Let’s test it.” Before she could think to protest, he’d climbed up onto the table and placed himself face down so his mouth and nose aligned with the hole. “Hmm.”
She knit her brow in question. “What is it?”
Rising up a little on one of those distractingly handsome forearms, he offered a lopsided smile. “This is really comfortable.”
“You didn’t expect it to be?”
“I’m not sure what I expected, to be honest.” He lowered himself again, and when he spoke once more, it was with a muffled mumble. “Let’s see how this works then, shall we?”
Viola’s ribs clamped tightly around her heart. “What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant.
He flung one arm out and swatted toward his back. “Do the hand pressure thing.”
“Mr. Lowell, I’m really not educated in that sort of technique so it would probably be best if—”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Viola. I’m just curious to see what it’s like.”
“It’s not appropriate,” she felt compelled to say.
He sighed and rose back up again, this time with the sort of expression that seemed to say,I thought you had more sense than to let such a trifling matter ruffle your feathers. Instead he said, “The door is wide open and the place is full of workers. Look, here’s one right now.” He nodded a greeting to the man who entered the room.
“Forgive the intrusion,” the man said, “but I thought I’d come and hang the mirror we spoke about earlier.” He gave Mr. Lowell a funny look before returning his attention to Viola.
“Of course,” she said. “Please go right ahead.”
“And don’t mind us,” Mr. Lowell told him from his position on the table. “We’re just testing the equipment and making sure it works to Her Grace’s satisfaction.” He tilted his chin at Viola. “Come on then,” he said, and dropped his head once more.
