Loving Lord Ash (21 page)

“Kit.”

He’d swear
Ars Amatoria
jumped. He tightened his grip on the chair arms. He was so lost in lust he was hallucinating. He’d thought he’d heard Jess—

“Kit!”

Good God, he
had
heard her. Was she done with her bath already?

“Kit, I need your help.”

To wash her back? He swallowed, pressing
Ars Amatoria
firmly down on his frantic cock. He was not going to attack her. He was not. He would go slowly—or he would try to—tracing the water drops with his lips, with his tongue—

No! He must not forget the naked footman. It was too soon.

“Kit?”

He cleared his throat. “What is it, Jess?”

“I’ve . . . I’ve lost the soap. Could you get it for me?”

“Lost the soap?” He had a very, er, elevating vision of fishing around in the bathwater, under her legs and around her arse—

He pushed down harder on the book.

“Yes. It slipped out of my hands and onto the floor. It’s too far away for me to reach, and I still have to wash my hair.”

He cleared his throat again. “I”—more throat clearing—“see.”

“So would you get it for me without . . . without, ah . . . you know.”

“I know?” Without attacking her like an animal? She couldn’t mean that.

“Without peeking. You can . . .” She paused, and then her voice sounded stronger, as if she’d thought of the perfect solution. “You can tie your cravat around your eyes.”

That was ridiculous, but he probably shouldn’t say that. “How shall I find the soap when I’m blindfolded?”

“I’ll direct you.”

“Oh, very well.” It would be better for his sanity if he didn’t see Jess naked. He had to wait at least a month—more likely two—before he could be sure her encounter with the footman hadn’t had any permanent consequences.

He put Ovid safely on the floor, tied his cravat over his eyes, and stood. It was odd and a bit disorienting not being able to see. “I haven’t been in this room in years, you know, so I can’t be certain I remember the positions of all the furniture. You will have to guide my every step.”

“You can feel your way around the bed, can’t you?”

“Yes.” He remembered where the bed was; it was hard to forget that. He took a few steps. “Ouch! Bloody hel—” He pressed his lips together and bent down to rub his shin.

“What is it? What happened? Are you all right?”

At least she sounded truly concerned.

“I just forgot the bed steps were here. You don’t see any other hazards, do you?”

“No. You should be fine as long as you keep a hand on the mattress.”

He inched along, sweeping a foot cautiously before him, to the first bedpost and then along the bottom of the bed to the second. From here he’d have to cross the room without support.

“Anything in my way?”

“No.”

He put his hands out in front of him and continued his shuffling gait. He heard poorly muffled sniggers.

“If you’re going to laugh at me, I’ll just take this damn blindfold off.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. You just look . . . I mean, I do appreciate your understanding. Ah, there. The soap is just by your right foot—oh!”

He kicked something with his left foot. “Did you mean my other right foot?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m not always good with directions.”

He was usually very good with directions, but the insistent thrum of lust vibrating through his body was extremely distracting. He stepped cautiously to the left.

“There it is. Just by your right foot.”

“You mean this foot?” He lifted his left.

She laughed. “Yes.”

He stooped cautiously and felt around. His fingers closed on the soap.

“Splendid!” Jess clapped. “Now if you will just hand it to me.”

“My pleasure.”

He didn’t need any further guidance; he could tell from her voice where she was. He took a quick step—and stumbled over something lying on the floor. He tried to regain his balance, but the thing—or things as it must be her discarded clothing—wrapped around his feet, defeating his efforts to save himself. He went pitching forward.

He heard Jess squeak in alarm as he threw his arms out to break his fall. It didn’t help. He splashed face first into the tub.

The next few minutes were a mad scramble. His first priority was breathing; his second, keeping the tub from capsizing and spilling water and Jess and him all over the floor. And his third—

“Oh, Kit! Are you all right?” He felt Jess’s hands on his shoulder and then his face. She pulled off his blindfold.

Yes, he was all right, but apparently he couldn’t talk. The edge of the metal tub was sticking into his chest, but, more importantly, his hands had just slid off a naked thigh. And now he could see the thigh and the sweet place where her legs met....

Look at her face, for God’s sake, you idiot!

He sucked air into his lungs. “Are
you
all right? I didn’t hurt you when I landed, did I?”

“No.” She shrugged, and he forced his eyes to stay on her face, though fortunately he had excellent peripheral vision. “Well, perhaps a little. I might have a bruise there tomorrow.”

He fought the urge to see if she had a bruise there now. “I’m sorry. I tripped over your clothes.”

“I shouldn’t have left them there.” She flushed. “Your coat is all wet.”

And he was hovering over her naked body. He needed to give her back the soap.

What had he done with the soap?

It was probably floating in the water somewhere, and much as he’d like to hunt for it, he seriously doubted his self-control was up to that task.

If he were a true rake, he’d know how to kiss her and suggest they finish the bath together. And she would enthusiastically agree. He looked at her lips and swore her chin tilted up ever so slightly....

Of course it did. She was the one with all the experience, wasn’t she? A succubus. And much as he might like to be seduced, he couldn’t allow himself that pleasure. Not yet.

He hauled himself up to stand and tore his gaze away from her lovely naked body. Not that he needed to look at it. He was quite certain it was burned into his memory.

He stared at a fat cherub perched on the mantel instead. Yes, think of the spiritual, the noncorporeal, the chaste. His body was having none of it. He stepped around the foot of the tub to get closer to the fire, turning his back to Jess to restore her privacy—and his own. His cock was far too prominent.

He shivered. But the cold air and uncomfortably wet clothing would help cast a literal damper on his physical enthusiasm. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stand here until you are finished. I’m afraid I’ll take a chill—and ruin the leather on the chair—if I return to my previous place.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Did she sound a little disappointed that he’d pulled away from her? No, that was likely only wishful thinking.

“I’ll hurry.”

“No, no. Take your time. Did you find the soap? I’m not quite certain what happened to it when I fell.”

There was some splashing, and then she said, “Yes, here it is. It somehow got under my . . . er, that is, I was sitting on it.”

“Ah.” Her lovely, rounded arse, which was below her narrow waist, which was below her two beautiful—

Even the damp and the chill couldn’t keep his cock down. “I’m glad you found it.”

“And I promise to use it quickly.” There was a great quantity of splashing. “Shouldn’t you remove your wet clothing?”

God give him strength. “
All
my clothing is wet, Jess. I cannot think you wish me to stand here naked.”

“Oh. N-no, of course not. You would be shivering terribly. I’m almost done. I just need to rinse the soap out of my hair and—” She paused.

He watched a piece of ash float up the chimney. “And what?”

There was more splashing, and then she finally answered him.

“Do you have a spare banyan I could borrow? I’ll need to sit in front of the fire to dry my hair, and I obviously can’t do that now. But if I put my clothing back on, my dress and other things will get soaked.”

He had only one banyan, but he was happy to lend it to her. He certainly wasn’t going to use it. He was going to bathe and dress as quickly as he could, and then flee the room before his cock persuaded him to do something very stupid. “Of course.”

He rescued his banyan from his valise and walked back toward the tub, keeping his eyes on the ground so he didn’t trip again—or stare at Jess. “Are you ready for it?”

“Just a moment. Let me just get my towel. I—oh!”

God or the devil or some other divine being clearly was determined to tempt him past sanity. He snapped his head up in time to see Jess catch her foot on the side of the tub and start to fall. He dropped the banyan and extended his arms to catch her as her naked, wet body came crashing into his.

He took a couple steps back to regain his balance, clutching her tightly, one hand on her back, the other on the rise of her soft buttocks. He should be chilled—she was soaking the last dry spots of his waistcoat and shirt and breeches—but the heat surging from his groin threatened instead to turn the wet patches to steam.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She looked up at him. “What a clumsy pair we are today.”

If he bent his head just a little, his lips would meet hers. His hands itched to move, to trace the swell of her buttocks or slip around to explore her breasts. With her vast experience, she must know the bulge pushing against her belly was his painfully swollen cock.

She wasn’t struggling in his arms. She would welcome his advances. It had been days since she’d had the attentions of the naked footman. She must be feeling the need—

What the hell was he thinking? Yes, it had been days since that damn footman had been between her thighs. Days. Not weeks, not months.
Days.
He couldn’t let his damn cock lead him down the path it wanted. That would be disastrous. He needed some control. He needed to think of something besides the feel of Jess’s skin under his fingers.

Fortunately Jess kept her wits about her. Of course she did. Being naked in a man’s arms was nothing new for her.

“I’ll just get the towel, shall I?”

“Yes, of course.” He released her and went to pick the banyan off the floor. When he turned back, she’d wrapped her hair in one towel and was holding the other in front of her like a shield.

“Mrs. Watson only left us two towels, so I’m very glad you’re loaning me your extra banyan.”

“It’s my only banyan.” He averted his eyes and held it up for her. “But don’t worry. I plan to bathe quickly, and then dress and go down to the study, so you can dry your hair in peace.”

“Thank you.” She closed the banyan and handed him his towel. “I’ll go sit in the chair now. Would I like what you were reading?”

“No!” God, no. If she were already familiar with
Ars Amatoria
he didn’t want to know it, and he particularly didn’t want her to know he’d been reading the book—which he hadn’t been, actually. He would take it downstairs.

He strode over and scooped it up, carefully keeping the title covered, and then scanned the bookshelf. There was nothing else as scandalous, thank God, but nothing very interesting either. “I haven’t been here in years; I think they must have taken to storing the books no one wants to read in my bookcase.”

Jess looked at the offerings, too. “Oh, I don’t know. I assume
someone
might be interested in reading
A Treatise on Sheep Breeding
or
Some Thoughts on Eradicating Vermin in the House,
even though I’m not.”

She craned her neck, trying to read the spine of Ovid’s book, but he wasn’t about to allow her to do that. He put it behind his back.

“Why won’t you let me see what you were reading?”

“Because it is completely inappropriate. Here.” He pulled
Favorite Household Remedies for All Manner of Ills
off the shelf and offered it to her. “This looks interesting.”

She made a face. “It does not.”

He pushed it into her hands. “Well, I shall be very quick, so if you’ll go over and sit down, I can get on with it.”

“Oh, very well.”

He watched her disappear behind the chair back and then he hurried over to the tub. Would she try to peek at him? He glanced back. No. Why did he think she would even consider such a thing? She’d seen plenty of naked men.

He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the tub. The water was ice cold.

Chapter Twelve

Your family will always discover your secrets.

—Venus’s Love Notes

“. . . but do you think—” Ned broke off as soon as the study door opened.

Hmm. Ash noted his brothers looked quite guilty. What were Ned and Jack doing here? They were newly married men; he’d expect them to be spending time with their wives instead of each other and Shakespeare and Fluff. The dogs got up to greet him; his brothers did not.

“Should my ears be burning?” he asked as he patted the animals. They were both slightly damp; Shakespeare must have joined Fluff in his bath.

Shakespeare went back to stretch out by Jack’s chair, but Fluff stayed with him.

“Yes.” Jack held up the brandy bottle. “Want a drink?”

Ash was tempted to claim some just-remembered engagement that required his immediate presence elsewhere, but his brothers would see through that ruse in an instant. He’d just got to London; he could have no appointments. And with Jess upstairs drying her long, lovely black hair in front of the fire, he couldn’t retreat to his room. It was too late to bolt for White’s, not that he wished to spend time at that gentlemen’s club with strangers who would only gossip about him. And if he wandered the house, he might encounter Mama, which would be much, much worse than facing his brothers. Mama was extremely skilled at prying uncomfortable information out of her sons.

A dose of brandy might be just the thing to steady his nerves. “Yes, thanks.” He took the glass from Jack and sat on the sofa. Fluff put his head on his lap.

“Well, at least you’re getting along with Jess’s dog,” Jack said.