Viola gave the worker a hesitant look and saw he was already busy taking measurements and marking the wall behind her. Inhaling deeply, she took a small step toward the table on which Mr. Lowell was waiting. He seemed so relaxed, and considering the riotous state he’d put her nerves in, that was incredibly irritating.
I’m a professional, she told herself. She’d nursed an endless number of men since opening St. Agatha’s Hospital two years earlier. But this was different. This was intimate, even if Mr. Lowell made it seem like the most normal thing in the world. It wasn’t. She knew it in the way her hands trembled with the prospect of touching him so directly. Shockingly, it occurred to her that she might even covet the chance to do so, as evidenced by how easily her resistance had wavered and crumbled.
A more resilient woman would have quit the room and returned downstairs to continue cleaning the cabinet. She, on the other hand, placed her palm upon his shoulder and squeezed. His only response was a languid sigh, encouraging her to continue. So she added her other hand too and pressed deep, pushing her thumbs against the tense muscle in the way she’d seen Mrs. Zhang do when she’d demonstrated her technique to Viola during her interview.
Bolstered by the fact that Mr. Lowell showed little response besides lying there, she allowed her hands to knead along the sides of his back, then up the center and again to his shoulders.
He expelled what sounded like an involuntary groan and Viola’s hands stilled. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She increased the pressure, more slowly this time. His shoulders were broad and his hair...
Silky black locks tickled her knuckles as she worked close to his neck. Leaning forward, she put her weight into the movement, and when she inhaled, the enticing combination of sandalwood and bergamot lured her closer.
“Your Grace?”
Viola straightened her spine and took a step back, her pulse leaping lightly at her wrist as she turned to face the worker who’d addressed her. “Yes?” Her breath came heavily, and to her dismay, she could feel heat burning her cheeks.
“Will this do?” The worker pointed to the mirror, which now hung exactly where Viola intended it to.
“Yes. Thank you.” She swallowed and reached for the table to steady herself.
“I think this place will be a marvelous success,” Mr. Lowell said as he hopped off the table. “That felt really good.” He rotated his shoulders and strode to the door, pausing there as if to wait for her. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Viola stood in stupefied wonderment as he disappeared round the corner. Was she really the only one affected by what they’d just done together? She drew a sharp breath to calm her nerves, aware there was nothing wrong with it per se. She was after all a widow, and they hadn’t been behind a locked door. Indeed, they hadn’t even been alone! And yet somehow, she felt as though she’d just been slightly seduced. Although bearing in mind their positions, maybe she’d been the one doing the seducing?
Shaking her head, she forced one foot in front of the other, intent on following Mr. Lowell wherever he intended to take her. She was keenly aware that the path on which they were traveling was far more dangerous than she’d ever dared to imagine.
Henry was incredibly grateful for the extra bit of time it took Viola to join him in the next room. Her delay allowed him to hide the effect of her touch behind his jacket, which he now held strategically in front of himself. Having discarded it here earlier when he’d climbed a ladder to hang one of the lanterns she’d bought, he’d hurried to retrieve it.
Christ!
It had been impossible not to respond as he had with her long, slender fingers working upon him in ways that produced all manner of inappropriate contemplations, all of which involved fewer clothes and privacy. Hoping his face wouldn’t give him away, he attempted a bland expression and allowed for the barest hint of a smile when she entered.
A frown creased her forehead, making him wonder...
“You wanted to show me something?” she asked.
He shook himself into motion and went to collect the tinderbox he’d left on a small built-in ledge to one side. “I borrowed this from the foreman. Close the door, will you?”
“Mr. Lowell.”
Her voice was stern and censorious and, to Henry’s amusement, did little to quash his desire. Least of all when he imagined her using that voice on him while wearing a pair of spectacles. By God, he really had to get his depraved mind sorted.
So he thought of the cod-liver oil he’d been forced to consume as a boy and the wasp sting he’d suffered one summer and how that would feel right there where... Yes, that did it. He breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his jacket back onto a vacant chair that must have been brought in on a whim because it didn’t match anything.
“I just want to show you what I’ve done.” When she looked at him as though he must think she’d fallen off a wagon, he added, “The effect won’t be as good if the room is flooded by light from the hallway.” Still, she hesitated, so he blew out a breath and gave her the most imploring look he could muster. “Please?”
Her nostrils flared a little and her eyes seemed to brighten. And then... “Very well, but please be quick about it.”
He grabbed the ladder leaning against the wall while she closed the door until it stood only slightly ajar. Climbing the rungs, he reached the desired height and balanced himself against the rails.
“Do be careful,” Viola told him.
He smiled as he handled the tinderbox. “It warms my heart to know you’re worried about my safety.”
She snorted while he struck a flint, sparking a flame. “An accident would be bad for business.”
