Page 45 of The Season of Lady Chastity

“Can I have a bath brought up for you?” Bastian lingered on the word bath, as his mind conjured images he had no right to picture. The chill from the water had to have soaked clear through to her bones. The walk back hadn’t been overly long, but the weather had turned overnight, a winter storm on the horizon. “A long soak in hot water will ward off the chill.”

His steps faltered when his mind swung to images of helping Chastity into the bathing tub—and remaining close to provide her with company…and make certain the chill didn’t set in.

Reaching her door, they both halted. Neither grasped the latch. Bastian, because it wasn’t his place, and Chastity…he wasn’t sure why she didn’t beat a hasty retreat to do away with her muddy and soaked clothes. They shouldn’t be in such a compromising position—with the opportunity for far more. Bastian shouldn’t want her to open the door and invite him inside, yet the feelings swirling within him screamed for the invitation.

Finally, she sighed.

“What is it?” he asked, his previous musings fleeing at the depth of emotion in the sound. He’d been thinking about time alone with Chastity behind the closed door of her private chambers, all while she was very likely in pain at his side. Where had these roguish wanderings come from? “Are you hurting? Shall I collect the physician?”

“It isn’t that.” Her stare narrowed on her closed door, and she nibbled her lip.

It was the same action as when she’d made her confessions the night before.

“Tell me, I am at your disposal.”

“I cannot undo the buttons down the back of my riding habit.”

Bastian’s gulp was audible in the deserted hallway, and Chastity turned to look up at him.

“Prudence and I usually assist one another in and out of our gowns, but she remained with the others.”

Was that…invitation he saw in her eyes?

Bastian was not versed in such things, and never had he been in a position where he’d been offered an invite into a lady’s private chambers.

The words hung between them—she hadn’t actually asked him to enter her room.

They both seemed to hold their breath.

“Will you unbutton my riding habit, Bastian?” Her expectant question was like an unsung melody to his ears.

This time, it was Bastian’s hand that trembled when he reached for the door latch.

* * *

Chastity waited for Bastian to open her chamber door, her shaking hands grasping the blanket tightly to her shoulders at the same time her knees trembled. It wasn’t the cold. No, that discomfort had receded the instant Bastian swept her in his arms and had completely fled when she looked up into his eyes a moment ago. She hadn’t been in the moat for more than the blink of an eye before he was at her side, rescuing her.

She hadn’t needed saving, certainly, but he’d given her the opportunity to mask her embarrassment from the gathered guests.

As he opened the door, Chastity sighed with relief to see the chamber was empty. No footman was tending the fire, no maid tidying the room, and the draperies were closed tightly to keep in the heat from the hearth and ward off the winter weather from outside.

She stepped over the threshold, but Bastian hesitated to follow.

If she were going to be anything like her mother—bold, adventurous, and take control of her future—it was time to start. It was true, her mother had made mistakes: allowing herself to wed Downshire when she was possibly in love with another. That was an error Chastity was not willing to fall prey to. She could possess all her mother’s strength without giving up who she was at her core. The circumstances surrounding her birth may one day come into question, but it did not define her.

“Come in, Bastian,” she said with a coy grin over her shoulder as she moved toward the hearth. “The warmth of the fire will do us both good.”

She’d failed to notice previously that his Hessians sloshed, and his trousers were soaked from the knees down and utterly ruined. His shirt and jacket hadn’t fared much better. He’d risked his safety to collect her from the moat. No one else had leapt into the water so readily for her. In fact, not a single person in her life had taken the time to risk anything for her. Everything about Bastian aligned: his actions, his words, and his…feelings. Or at least she hoped his attraction to her was not only her imagination.

Taking her time, Chastity walked to the hearth, allowing the blanket to slip, inch by inch, from her shoulders as she made her way across the room. When she was a few feet from the flames, she let it fall completely to pool at her feet, exposing the back of her riding habit and the long line of brass buttons.

When he stood directly behind her, it wasn’t the buttons he set to undoing.

With deft fingers, Bastian untangled her hat and pulled the pin to free it.

“You can—”

Before she finished, he’d slipped the pin into the hat and tossed it onto the chair near the fire.