“What about this?” he bit out, still not glancing at her.
“I think…” She paused, and he felt her take the garment from his hands. “I think if I’m not to shock the servants, I might need something a little more substantial.”
He sucked in a deep breath and blinked to clear the haze from his eyes. Carefully he turned. She stood watching him with a complex mixture of hunger and trepidation. The boot had toppled over and lay on the floor near the trunk. She clutched a filmy chemise in front of her.
God give him strength. He refused to picture that sheer scrap of cream silk clinging to Sarah’s lissome body. He straight-out refused.
Gideon gritted his teeth until his jaw ached and tried to quash the bawdy images filling his mind. His face itched as hot color rose in an unstoppable tide. He was acting like a damned fool.
Her voice had been light, amused. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed his turmoil. Then he looked into her eyes and read secret knowledge in the hazel depths. She sensed he responded to her as a man responded to a woman. It frightened her—fear lurked in her gaze too—but not enough to send her fleeing back downstairs.
“Your pardon.” His voice sounded rusty. “I meant to give you this.”
Clumsily, he handed her the muslin. She ventured closer to drop the chemise back into the trunk, then she studied the dress.
“What do you think?” She held it up for his consideration.
Good Lord, she couldn’t torment him deliberately, could she? She looked so utterly innocent and unconcerned. Which, now his brain returned to something approximating working order, struck him as cursed suspicious.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said in a clipped tone. “Will it fit you?”
“It looks like it might. The shoes didn’t. Your mother had much daintier feet than I.” She lifted her skirt a few inches and circled her bare foot in demonstration.
The witch! She tortured him for her own amusement. If he could bear to touch her, he’d bloody well strangle her.
If he could bear to touch her, he wouldn’t strangle her. He’d ravish her within an inch of her life.
It suddenly struck him, as it should have struck him long before, that being up here alone with Sarah was a very bad idea indeed. He’d thought to find her a couple of things to wear and escape with no consequences. That now seemed an absurdly optimistic plan.
Hell, he had to get out of here. Now.
The attics had appeared so spacious when he first set foot in them. Now they felt oppressive, crowded, closing in on him.
When all the time he knew what closed in on him was insatiable desire.
He stumbled to his feet with clumsy haste. Tension formed a painful line across his shoulders. “Everything you need is in this trunk. I’ll get the servants to bring it to your room.”
She flinched at his tone, then leaned near to replace the items they’d removed. Near enough for her skirts to brush his legs with a subtle sensual whisper. Sarah’s warm, womanly scent momentarily submerged his mother’s rose perfume.
In spite of his best intentions, he closed his eyes and inhaled. It was the fragrance of paradise. And he, poor sinner, was locked in perpetual agony outside the gates.
He shouldn’t have hesitated. He should have made a run for it while he could. Blast her, he shouldn’t have come up here in the first place. Mrs. Pollett could just as easily have shown her the trunks.
When he opened his eyes, she stood before him, her face uplifted, her lips parted, her arms outstretched. Her face was stark with need and vulnerability and a desperate, hard-won courage.
He couldn’t mistake what she wanted.
Even that recognition didn’t shift him. Every limb was heavy as lead. Denial jammed in his throat and emerged as a groan. He staggered back, but she’d already begun her forward momentum.
He twisted awkwardly to evade her but she grabbed his arms. Her fingers curled into his flesh in inescapable talons. Blind horror held him paralyzed.
“Gideon, please,” she said in a broken voice that made his gut cramp with guilt and sinful longing.
Her slim, tender body slammed into his. Her slender arms, surprisingly strong, wrapped around his neck. Her heady scent rocked his brain, scattering rational thought.
Shaking, he clutched her waist, crazy with the need to push her off him. But his will failed at the final moment.
She tensed as she stretched up. The damp, seeking heat of her mouth pressed against his.