“Eager to get me naked, darling?” he asked, raising his brow.
“Eager to get you into the bath so I may return to the tranquility of my own chamber,” she corrected, moving nearer and tugging on his left sleeve. “Off with this now, if you please.”
Wrangling a damp coat from a man without any aid from him was no easy feat.
She shot him a glare when her attempts to pull the coat from his arm met with stony opposition. “I thought you wanted a bath.”
“I do.”
“Then you must help me,” she pointed out, all too aware of his unsettling nearness and his hazel stare, fixed upon her.
Finally, he made an effort to assist, and she managed to peel the coat down his arm. She worked the garment from his shoulder, and he leaned forward, the action bringing their faces perilously close.
I do not want to kiss him.
I do not want to kiss him.
I do not want to kiss him.
She repeated the litany in her mind as she worked on the right sleeve of his coat. But she did want to kiss him, and that was very much becoming a problem. The scent of spirits mingled with smoke and the earthy tang of rain. He had just been involved in some manner of violence. There was blood speckling his white shirt and cravat. He had a bruised eye. Earlier that day, she had seen another woman kissing him.
And yet, none of that mattered.
“Octavia,” he said.
Why did she like her name on his lips so much?
His hand settled on her waist, possessive and firm. Not holding her in place so much as steadying her. If she wished, she could slip away. Put distance between them once more.
“What is it?” she asked, hating herself for the breathlessness in her voice.
“I did not kiss her.”
She stiffened, not wanting to relive that terrible moment when she had seen the golden-haired beauty with her arms wrapped around him. “It hardly signifies now.”
“It matters to me that you know the truth.” His gaze searched hers. “You’re the only woman I want.”
Just yesterday, his confession would have meant more than anything to her.
Now, she remained hesitant. Coming from him, it seemed a significant admission. He was not a man given to sentiment or flowery words. However, it was not an apology, and she remained uncertain whether or not she dared trust him.
“Your actions today suggested otherwise,” she said primly, removing the coat at last and draping it over the washstand.
Trying to compose herself, she took extra time and care, which was unnecessary given the garment was in need of a sound washing. She was acutely aware of his stare on her, watching every movement she made.
“I ain’t accustomed to having to explain myself.”
The low rasp had her turning back to him in surprise. It was not what she had expected him to say. Something charming, perhaps. Or a request to assist him in removing his boots, yes. An acknowledgment, no.
“I can imagine you are not,” she said, hardening her heart. “Your word here appears to be all it requires to make everyone scatter to obey your command
s.”
“Everyone but you.” His gaze was heavy-lidded.
It affected her. How could it not?
Against her better judgment, she crossed back to him. “Your bath water will be quite cold if you continue tarrying.”