One Intimate Night

In fact, as Piers was forced to admit, Ben’s manners whilst Piers performed these unplanned chores was nothing short of exemplary, even to the extent of going immediately and obediently to his bed when Piers commanded him to and waiting there patiently whilst Piers prepared his food.

Was it a coincidence or had Georgia made far more progress with the dog’s training than Piers had anticipated?

Georgia! Piers’s mouth tightened into a stern line as he recollected the moment when he had seen her being dragged into the river. Despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that it was safely shallow at that point, Piers had had to resist a serious urge to go in after her, but whether or not that urge had been caused by a desire to rescue her or a strong temptation to drown her, he didn’t know. More likely drown her, Piers told himself irritably. He had never known anyone cause such havoc in his life before. It was becoming increasingly obvious to him that wherever Georgia and Ben went trouble automatically seemed to follow, but that didn’t mean that he had to be on hand to rescue them or protect them. Why should he?

Ben was his godmother’s dog, he reminded himself immediately. He had promised her that he would look after him for her, and if looking after him meant that he also had to look after the irritating young woman who had dared to challenge his determination to remove Ben from his godmother’s life, then so be it. And it was absolutely totally impossible for him to have any kind of hidden motivation or secret subconscious agenda for his decision to bring Georgia closer into his own orbit.

Having her living here in the house with him had been a totally logical decision—given all the circumstances. True, it might have been a little foolish of him to allow her to provoke him into giving her the opportunity to prove him wrong about Ben—not that there was any possibility that she could do so. It was obvious to anyone that the dog was a totally unsuitable pet for his godmother. No, it had simply been his fair-mindedness that had forced him to at least give her the opportunity to prove him wrong. That was all. That was totally and completely all, and, of course, it wouldn’t have made any difference whatsoever to his decision had she been a different type of woman...

Piers frowned as he realised how long Georgia had been upstairs and how quiet it was. She had been shivering when they’d come inside, quite plainly suffering from cold and shock. Frowning even more fiercely Piers filled the kettle.

It wasn’t his duty to look after her. She wasn’t his responsibility. The kettle was starting to boil; swiftly he spooned coffee into a mug and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

* * *

Never had a bath felt so welcome and restorative, Georgia felt sure as she lay floating blissfully in the piping-hot water. She had washed her hair under the shower and also rinsed off the worst of the river water, but the temptation to soothe her chilly body in the warm water of a deep-filled bath had proved too tempting to resist—as had her impulse to add a few drops of her favourite relaxing aromatherapy oil.

Now its heavenly scent mingled with the warm, steamy atmosphere of the bathroom, totally releasing all the tension from her body...her body, but not her thoughts, she acknowledged as she reflected ruefully on the unwelcome outcome to her evening’s training session with Ben. And he had been doing so well too. If it hadn’t been for those wretched geese...

Georgia sighed and closed her eyes, trying to recapture her earlier mood of delicious relaxation, but it was no use. Sooner or later she was going to have to go downstairs to face Piers. What a sight she must have looked as she’d dragged herself out of the river. No wonder he had looked so angrily at her, his eyes, she was sure, filled with an expression of contemptuous disdain.

Reluctantly she stepped out of the bath and reached for the towel, wrapping it sarong-wise around her body. Then she realised she had neglected to bring her robe into the bathroom with her.

Securing her damp curls on top of her head with a tortoiseshell clip, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom just at the same time as Piers, unable to get any response to either his brief knock on her bedroom door or to calling her name, anxiously pushed open the door and walked into the room.

As she stared at Piers Georgia wasn’t aware of the way she instinctively crossed her hands over her towel-covered breasts, but Piers was, his mouth twisting a little sardonically as he wondered what she would say if he told her that, far from protecting her, her action had actually done more to focus his attention on her body and communicate to him—as though he hadn’t already been aware of it—the fact that her insecurely wrapped towel was the only thing covering her naked body...