Lockhart pursed his lips. He didn’t know whether to chuckle, salute his friend’s foresight or grab a pillow and blanket and retreat to the dressing room.
“I could hardly tell Lissette it was unsuitable and that I’d wear the one I brought with me,” Miss Darling continued. “From the look she gave I doubt she thinks it will be on for long.”
The heat warming his chest journeyed southwards as visions of her naked form danced in his mind. “May I see the nightgown?”
“Of course not. And nightgown is a term I would use loosely.”
It was worth a try.
“Look, I shall close my eyes as I slip into bed.” Had the lady forgotten he’d delved deep into her mouth and roused a sigh of pleasure? Hell, now was not the time to think of that, either. “If you hold the coverlet tightly to your chest, there’s no reason I should see your body or the gown.”
Looking somewhat appeased, and after a moment’s contemplation, she nodded.
Slipping beneath the sheets played havoc with his body. Knowing she wore a scandalous nightgown while lying a mere foot away sent blood surging to his cock. There was only one thing for it—other than taking himself in hand, and he wasn’t about to do that in front of a lady—and so he turned on his side to face her and propped himself up on his elbow.
“You want me to tell you about India.”
Miss Darling shuffled onto her side whilst remaining huddled in her cocoon. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard tell it’s so hot you cannot sleep at night.”
Hot, but nowhere near as hot as he felt now.
“Not all year.” Lockhart smiled as she stared at him all wide-eyed and innocent. “In the summer the heat is stifling. Sweat trickles down your back. Humidity is low, making it difficult to breathe. When the Loo comes—”
“The Loo?” Miss Darling wrinkled her nose.
“It’s a strong, dusty wind that blows from the west during the summer.”
“Surely that helps to keep cool.”
The scorching wind devastated the landscape, ruined vegetation. “The gusts are so hot people call them the evil winds. Just before the onset of the monsoon season, the Kali Andhi comes—a violent, squalling dust storm that reduces visibility.”
Miss Darling’s sweet mouth dropped open.
God, how he wanted to kiss her again.
“And what’s it like during the monsoons?” She clasped her hands together in prayer and placed them between her cheek and the pillow as she edged a little closer.
There was not much to say about the torrential rain, rain that sometimes fell for days and days, but he would say anything as long as he had Miss Darling’s undivided attention.
“Storms roll in so quickly you’ve little time to prepare,” he said, relishing the look of wonder and excitement in her eyes. “The clouds are dark and heavy and filled with moisture. The rains can last for months. Droplets drench the skin in seconds.” He reached out and smoothed a strand of hair from her brow. She did not flinch or protest. “I’ve always found the rain cleansing. I’ve stood outside until my clothes are sodden and rain runs off the tip of my nose like water from a tap.”
Miss Darling chuckled.
She should laugh more often. Her eyes shone, bright and vibrant. A vitality for life radiated from every fibre of her being.
“When caught in a sudden shower I do tend to dawdle,” she said.
“Perhaps we might look for an opportunity to share the experience.” They were talking about being out in the rain and yet the intimacy of the moment roused his desire on a level deeper than he had ever known.
“Yes, we must.”
Silence slipped over them like a silk veil.
Miss Darling held his gaze, which was a feat in itself as he knew lust lingered there.
“Did you meet many English ladies whilst abroad?”
Lockhart wondered what prompted the question. “Some. The British over in India try to recreate the life they had at home. Ladies call on their friends and take tea. They gossip and complain about the weather.” He found them rather tedious.