to leave her alone here. Tupping it would be then.
Two lads shuffled into the room, carrying large buckets of steaming water. Gideon settled in the only chair, taking off his mud-caked boots as the lads filled the tub. Tendrils of warm mist curled up toward the dusty beams above, adding a welcoming humidity to the air. Whatever his decision might be, he wouldn’t leave tonight. Not only could he begrudgingly admit that he didn’t wish to abandon Mrs. Ashton, but he was too bloody chilled and tired to escape. Tonight he would sleep in a warm bed, in a warm room, with a warm woman.
The boys left. Gideon moved to the door, bolting it. For an unsteady moment, he realized they were alone. Completely and utterly alone. For the first time in fourteen years, there was no schedule to keep, no one to appease, no money to exchange hands. He glanced back at Mrs. Ashton. The woman was completely at his mercy, but she didn’t seem the least bit nervous…at least not about his presence.
She moved to the fireplace, drawing his attention like a bee to a flower. The light made her hair and skin glow. She was lovelier than a woman had a right to be. It wasn’t a sensual sort of attraction but a purity that called out. He fought the wave of desire that washed over him, stifling his longing. She was merely a client. An heiress. And if he had his way, her account would be a few pounds lighter when he left.
The seductress glanced over her shoulder at him. Helen of Troy could not have been more enticing than this woman. “Will you help me undress?”
Aye, it would be best to keep his wits about him. Like a dutiful whore, he went to her. Let her trust him, he could be as charming as Alex, as kind as James, if he needed. As he traveled the row of buttons down her back and between her shoulder blades, he was keenly aware of the heat between their bodies. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit interested in his heat, or body or anything about him.
She peeled the sodden sleeves from her arms and let the bodice fall to the dusty worn floorboards. Gideon tried to ignore the way his fingers trembled as he released the waistband of her skirt. Tried to ignore the tingle of awareness that spread over his skin, but it was impossible when she was near.
She let the dress fall to her feet and stepped from the pool of material, standing in only her shift and corset. With a shy glance that belied her bold undressing, she asked, “Do you mind if I bathe?”
“Of course not.” Gideon had the startling revelation that the little minx was trying her hand at flirting, and doing a rather blasted good job if his body’s reaction was any judge. Raw desire shot through his body and straight to his groin.
Determined to ignore her and regain control of his raging lust, he moved to the fireplace and stoked the flames. He stayed near the fire, torn between wanting to slam from the bedroom and scoop her up in his arms. Mad. He’d gone bloody mad, but then lust would do that to a man.
“I’ll return the coins you’ve used.” She settled on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots and stockings from delicate feet. He didn’t want her damn money, he wanted her body.
A rough wind battered the windows, rattling the glass. Muddy roads would make tomorrow’s travel rough and slow. Why did the thought of hours in Mrs. Ashton’s company not annoy him? Because he had a feeling by the morning he wouldn’t quite be done with this woman.
“You have no questions?” She released a wry laugh as she stood. He liked her laugh. “Certainly you must have many.”
“No.” He stood and straightened. The desire to be near her, to reach out and pull her into his arms, to taste her soft lips, overrode any aloofness. “I’m here merely to do as you wish.”
She narrowed her eyes, noting his sarcasm. “Very well.” She brushed back the loose strands of her hair. “The laces of my corset?”
He glanced at the front of her chest and the tangled mess of
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley