Free The Lady Who Saw Too Much by Thomasine Rappold Page B

make one last-ditch attempt to keep Clara home. After they enjoyed their cake, people began to depart. Clara seemed perfectly well, laughing and seeing off the guests.
    Gia took this opportunity to seek out Landen. The man with whom he spoke excused himself with a smile as Gia approached.
    “I wish to speak with you about your aunt,” she said.
    “She’s your aunt now too.”
    She sighed at the sarcastic reminder. “Yes, of course.”
    “What is it you’d like to discuss?”
    “I fear she’s overexerted herself this past week.”
    “She’s a tough old bird.”
    “Even so. Perhaps you could persuade her to postpone the trip to Saratoga until she’s adequately rested.”
    Narrowing his eyes, he glanced toward his aunt, who was laughing heartily with the pastor. “She looks fine to me.”
    “She looks very pale.” The lie got his attention.
    His smug look faded. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Go see for yourself,” Gia said.
    Landen turned from Gia, then strode to his aunt. Clara’s dismissive wave ended their brief conversation, and before Gia knew it, he was back at her side.
    “She’s fine,” he said. “She’ll have a good soak in the baths at Saratoga. And we’ll proceed with our wedding night as planned.” He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it as well.”
    * * * *
    Florence helped Gia undress. Slipping into a light robe, Gia was grateful to finally be free of the suffocating skirts and undergarments now heaped on the bed.
    “Mr. Elmsworth had me prepare a bath for you in his room,” Florence said.
    Gia nodded. “Thank you.”
    “He’s waiting,” Florence added when Gia made no attempt to move.
    Gia fastened her robe securely, fingers trembling as she headed down the hall to Landen’s room. “Aunt Clara and Alice have left?” she asked as she stepped inside.
    “They’re well on their way. Except for Florence, the house is ours.” He removed his coat and placed it over a chair. “Now stop stalling and come have your bath.”
    Gia glanced at the steaming tub in front of the fireplace. “You needn’t have gone to the trouble. I bathed this morning.”
    He smiled. “This bath is for my benefit, not yours.”
    Her breath hitched, and she peered at the floor.
    “Don’t be shy. We are husband and wife now.”
    “Yes, I am aware,” she said as evenly as she could manage.
    He sat, still fully clothed except for his coat, in a chair facing the tub. He waved his arm. “Proceed.”
    She lifted her chin. His smug enjoyment of the power he thought he had over her was infuriating. Inhaling a deep breath, she resolved to thwart his control. She moved toward the tub. Slowly. Raising the hem of her robe, she lifted her foot over the rim of the tub, testing the temperature of the steaming water with her toes. She dangled her leg, her calf a pendulum, toes skimming the water. She shot him a glance to gauge his response. He watched, mesmerized, gripping the arms of the chair.
    Her confidence soared. Opening the robe to expose her shoulders, she sank her foot lower. She let the robe fall to the floor, then stepped into the tub. She stood naked before him, firelight at her back. Holding her breath, she resisted the instinct to cower in shame. He swallowed hard, and his arousal overpowered her modesty. She straightened her spine. Staring into his eyes, she lowered herself carefully, then slid into the sudsy water.
    Submerged in the heavenly warmth, she closed her eyes to her pounding heart. Fire burned in her belly as the heat of the water—his eyes—consumed her. “Satisfied?” she asked through the silence.
    “Oh, I am far from satisfied.” His voice was husky and deep as he walked toward the tub. He knelt at her head, his face a mere inch from hers. He reached for the sponge and dipped it into the sudsy water. Squeezing the water over her shoulders, he let the sponge roam with the downpour. She squirmed inside her flesh beneath the trail of the sponge. He repeated the sweet torture, over and