Free Quick, Amanda by Lie By Moonlight Page A

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    She pushed back the covers, found her eyeglasses and pulled on the wrapper that Mrs. Oates had
    managed to conjure last night. She gathered the few personal toiletries she had brought with her from the
    castle and opened the door.
    The hall outside her bedroom was empty. Mrs. Oates had mentioned that the only other room in use on
    this floor belonged to Ambrose. The girls had been given rooms on the floor above.
    Satisfied that she had the corridor to herself, she hurried toward the bath with a sense of cheerful
    anticipation.
    She had discovered the wonders of the grand room the night before and was looking forward to
    repeating the experience. John Stoner might be mysterious in his ways, but he was evidently a firm
    believer in modern bathing amenities.
    The bath was a marvelously decadent little palace graced with vast stretches of sparkling white tiles. All
    of the fixtures were of the latest sanitary design. Water taps set into the walls supplied hot as well as cold
    water brought up through pipes affixed to the side of the house. The basin gleamed. There was even a
    shower fixture over the tub.
    The water closet, located in an equally impressive room next to the bath, was a magnificent blend of art
    and modern engineering. A spectacular field of yellow sunflowers had been painted on both the outside
    and the inside of the commode. One did not encounter that sort of refinement and elegance very often.
    She could get used to this sort of luxury, she thought.
    The door of the bath opened just as she reached out to grasp the knob. Startled, she halted and glanced
    back over her shoulder at the entrance to her bedroom, gauging the distance.
    But there was no time to escape.
    Ambrose emerged from the white-tiled bath. He was dressed in an exotically embroidered black satin
    dressing gown. His hair was damp and tousled.
    “Mr. Wells.”
    She clutched the front of her wrapper with one hand and her little bag of toiletries in the other. She was
    aghast at the knowledge that she must look as though she had just gotten out of bed. It was the simple
    truth, of course, but somehow that only made matters worse. She was violently aware of the fact that
    Ambrose was likely quite nude under the robe. And she had on only a nightgown under the wrapper.
    He gave her a slow smile that scattered her senses to the four winds.
    “I see you are an early riser, Miss Glade.”
    “Yes, well, I assumed the household was still asleep.” She cleared her throat. “I did not realize that you
    were up and about.”
    “I also tend to rise early. It appears we have something in common.”
    Flustered, she took a step back. “I will come back some other time.”
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    “No need to retreat. The bath is all yours.”
    “Oh. Thank you.” She looked past him into the gleaming interior, aware of the warm, steamy air flowing
    out of it. “I must say it is a very lovely bath.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you think so?”
    “Oh, yes, indeed.” She was unable to restrain her enthusiasm. “Modern and sanitary in every particular.
    It even has a hot water shower device.”
    He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe and nodded seriously. “I did notice that when I used it
    a few minutes ago.”
    She was beyond a blush now. Her face was surely bright red. If only there was a convenient trapdoor
    beneath her feet. She would give anything to be able to drop out of sight.
    She sighed. “You must think me a perfect fool. It is just that I have never been employed in such a
    modern household.”
    “You are not working here, Miss Glade.” The faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes tightened, giving
    the impression that he was irritated. “You are a guest.”
    “Yes, well, it is very kind of you to say so, but we both know that the situation is highly irregular, to say
    the least, what with the