“Very well,” Madeline murmured, tossing the towel aside.
If her goal just now was to tempt Rayne while letting him think he was the pursuer, her ploy seemed to be working. She felt his hot gaze rivet on her bare, glistening breasts.
Madeline permitted herself a faint inward smile. Now that she had his undivided attention, it was time to ratchet up the stakes.
Shifting her position, she rose to her knees and reached over the high side of the tub, into the basket resting on the floor. Retrieving a cake of fine soap, Madeline sank back down, but only enough so that the water level was above her waist. With slow deliberation she drew the bar over her naked shoulders, then down her throat and between her wet breasts.
“This soap is sinfully lavish, softer on my skin than any I have ever known. It is French, is it not?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Rayne said slowly. “Bramsley is in charge of household purchases.”
Was it her imagination or had his voice suddenly grown thick? She couldn’t tell when he asked in an amiable way, “Do you need my help washing? Would you like me to scrub your back?”
Not wanting to seem too eager, Madeline declined his offer with a knowing smile. “Thank you, but I can manage.”
Rayne continued to watch her intently as she soaped herself, but only a short while later he broke the silence with an observation.
“There is something different about you. It is more than just your new gown.”
“I took your advice and styled my hair in a modish way.”
She had gathered the length of brown hair and twisted it into a loose knot on the top of her head, leaving numerous damp tendrils to curl around her face.
“It’s very becoming.”
Madeline let herself blush at his compliment, deepening the rose hue of her skin which was already flushed from the moist steam in the room. “I admit it is gratifying to look well. You wouldn’t understand because you have always been beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” Rayne protested
with an edge of humor.
“For a man, you are strikingly beautiful.”
She saw the tug of an appreciative smile at her flattery. “And you always have been too self-conscious about your appearance, sweetheart.”
That wasn’t quite true, Madeline knew. Until meeting Rayne, she had never been particularly sensitive about her looks, for there was no man she’d wanted to captivate. “It is easy for you to dismiss the issue of appearance. You never had to deal with the affliction of being plain.”
“You are not plain any longer.”
“Thank you,” she replied, somehow managing to keep her tone light and to hide the warm glow his praise engendered. “But I collect you benefit as well. If you find me more attractive, it will be easier for you to achieve your goal.”
“My goal?”
“Of begetting an heir. Isn’t that why you wed me?”
“In part.”
“Perhaps we should take this opportunity then. You proved that one can make love in a coach. Can it be accomplished in a bathtub?”
The heavy fringe of his lashes lowered over his breathtaking blue eyes. Rayne was considering her, judging her, trying to determine her intent. “What are you implying, Madeline?” he finally asked. “Do you want me to make love to you here and now?”
She gave a shrug of her bare shoulders. “It is merely a suggestion. I suspect it will take longer to sire a child if we keep separate bedchambers and you only share my bed during conjugal visits. But I want to fulfill my part of our bargain, Rayne.”
Madeline could hear her heart beating as she waited for his answer. She truly wanted to give Rayne a child, but just this moment she would settle for arousing his passion.
“Indeed,” she added, dropping her own voice so that it was low and husky, “I consider it my duty to make love to you.”
“Your duty,” he repeated dispassionately.