Free One Night of Sin by Gaelen Foley

repentance, he withdrew again and closed the door.
    Still chuckling, Becky glanced around at his tidy dressing room: the mirrored vanity with its array of shaving accoutrements, small cologne bottles, pewter-handled hairbrush, toothbrush, comb. She eyed the soap and thick, puffy towels longingly, then stepped closer to the tub and peered in to see how full it was.
    Feeling the delicious steam rising to her face, she chewed her lip indecisively, and glanced at the dressing room door behind her. “Are you still gone?”
    “Yes!” he called from some distance through the apartment, then asked hopefully, “Do you need me?”
    “No.”
    “Hurry! I’m bored.”
    “Yes, sir,” she muttered, though it was impossible to mind the order, given his lavish hospitality. She let out a weary sigh, beginning to relax already. After several days on the run, huddling down in barns at night to snatch a few hours of sleep and coming out smelling of animals and hay, not to mention getting spattered with mud from passing carriages on the road, a bath would work wonders to restore her sense of normalcy.
    Going over to the dressing room door that Alec had left open a crack, she tried to close it, but to her dismay, it would not shut properly.
    “Sorry, the latch is broken,” he called from an outer room, apparently hearing her efforts to make it stay closed. “Don’t worry, Becky, I won’t spy on you. Tempting as it may be.”
    She snorted in answer to his droll remark. “Very well, I’m trusting you!”
    But only up to a point.
    Pressing the door closed as best she could, she went over to the bathing tub, rested her foot on the edge of it and drew her skirts up over her thigh with a wary glance over her shoulder.
    The tiny suede pouch that held the Rose of Indra was firmly tied to the garter around her thigh. Quickly, she untied the leather strings that had secured the acorn-sized ruby and glanced around for a place where she could hide the jewel for the night. Lowering her foot and brushing her skirts back down again, she tiptoed over to the mahogany dresser, bent down, and silently opened the bottom drawer.
    Tucking away the great ruby behind neat stacks of her host’s muslin cravats and white lawn and cambric shirts, she closed the drawer again, satisfied that her inheritance, the hope of her village, was securely squirreled away till morning.
    This done, she turned to the magnificent bath with a sparkle of anticipation in her eyes. Why, she could wash up and look a good deal more respectable when she left tomorrow morning to call on the Duke of Westland.
    There would be time enough tomorrow to shoulder her worries again. For tonight, she would cast her cares aside, needing time to recover. Catching a glimpse of her pauperlike reflection in the mirror, she let out a wry snort and continued undressing.
     
    Meanwhile, Alec waited in wet clothes for the victuals to arrive; waited, indeed, for three quarters of an hour. Waiting was not generally his forte, but he could be a patient man when he knew the reward would be worth it.
    After his lengthy hiatus from the world of amour, he intended for both of them to take their time tonight. Savor it.
    He was eager to get out of his wet clothes, but for that, he needed the dressing room. He was restless and dashed uncomfortable, but had no intention of barging in on his fair guest’s privacy, all the same. That would have been exceedingly bad form, and invasive. It was important that Becky feel safe in his keeping. Women gave themselves so much more passionately when they were given enough reassurance.
    Inexperienced as she was, he was prepared to go to great lengths to put her at ease. Curiously, he found he didn’t mind.
    At last the errand boy returned with a large basket of food elegantly draped with a checked napkin from the club, a small bottle of champagne, and a baguette peeking over the side. Alec handed the windblown lad an extra two shillings for his pains, took back his