Make Her Wish Come True Collection. Ann Lethbridge
but he was beginning to understand these little reactions of hers. ‘You don’t, do you?’
‘I would have been fine, once the rest of my candles were sold. But…’ Bleakness coloured her voice. Resignation. As if she’d come to an unpleasant decision.
‘I have money put aside.’ More than he’d need in several lifetimes, not counting what he would later inherit.
‘I can’t take your money.’
‘A loan, then, to be repaid when you are settled.’
‘Why? Why do you want to help me? We barely know each other.’ She was clearly as bewildered as he was himself.
And yet he did understand, somewhat. ‘Because I was taught that a man with honour should always help a lady in distress. And…’ Honesty won out over platitudes. ‘Because I find you attractive. I like you and it would haunt me if I thought I should have done more to help.’
‘You are a good man, Adam Royston,’ she whispered. ‘If we had met at some other time…’
She cupped his jaw in her hand. A capable hand, work-roughened, yet small in comparison to his large paws. A gentle touch. Something lacking from his life as a rule. A siren’s call to his lonely soul. He could not stop himself from gazing at her plush pink lips, from recalling the delicious feel of them beneath his own.
Her eyelids fluttered, as if she, too, recalled their last delicious melding. Her hand slipped around his neck, her body twisting towards him so her breasts brushed against his chest, her spine arching, her fingers combing through his hair. She kissed him.
Considerations of honour made a swift if weak appearance. And yet she had made it quite clear she would not accept any sort of permanent liaison. A gentleman should not argue with a lady, not one he desired and respected as much as he did this one, and who so obviously desired him. Not with regard to a kiss at least.
She was a widow with knowledge and experience, not an ingénue. A warm generous woman whom, to his great surprise, he’d become inordinately fond of in a very short space of time. More than fond. Much more than fond. And for reasons that went far beyond her outward appeal.
On her lips he tasted sweetness, despite the lingering odour of the fire, and beneath that was her scent, the earthiness of beeswax, the sweetness of honey mingled with the perfume of roses. No matter how long he lived, those scents would remind him of this moment, this kiss and this woman. He let himself enjoy it to the full, let it sweep all thoughts from his mind.
Kissing Adam was like drinking too much champagne. He made her feel warm all the way to her toes. And fluttery inside. She’d expected another refusal, but he deepened the kiss, sending pleasure rippling to the very tips of her fingers. Along with deep sensual longing.
She drew back and gazed into his eyes, smoothing his hair back from his face, enjoying the silky feel beneath her hand and the warmth of his gaze. ‘I kept thinking of you yesterday. Imagining you on the road far from here.’
His expression became rueful. ‘I was thinking about you, too.’
Perhaps he regretted their parting after all? ‘You must have thought me dreadfully bold,’ she said diffidently.
‘Not dreadful. Lovely.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘The timing was…wrong.’
‘Because you have to leave.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Partly.’
‘And now I, too, am leaving.’ An ache pierced her heart. ‘Even though we have known each other such a very short time, I will miss you.’
He inhaled. A deep indrawn breath. ‘Gads,’ he said, ‘we both smell of smoke.’
A change of topic. A man avoiding uncomfortable emotion.
‘We do.’ She pulled back, embarrassed by her boldness. ‘I’ll bathe the girls in the morning. They were too exhausted tonight. I fear your sheets will need laundering. I will do them before I go.’
‘You will not. I will make arrangements.’ He hesitated. ‘No doubt you are terribly tired also.’
‘I am, but I fear I shall not sleep given all that has happened.’
‘Worry does that to a person.’ For a man he was very understanding. Sweet. Caring. The kind of man who would make a wonderful husband. She repressed a surge of longing. She could not marry anyone, not with all the complications of her life.
‘Will you let me show you something?’ he asked.
‘If you wish.’
He put an arm about her waist and they left the kitchen with its gleaming rows of pots reflecting the glowing fire in the hearth, traversed a passage beyond a scullery and entered a large square chamber with whitewashed walls and a trestle table beside an enamelled sink.
‘My, it is warm in here,’ she said.
He let go her hand and lifted the lid of a large tin-lined wooden tub. ‘What do you think?’
‘This is where I am to do the laundry?’
He grinned. ‘Guess again.’ He pulled out several large linen sheets from a cupboard and lined the tub. He turned a lever on a pipe running up the wall. Water began to flow. Steaming hot water. ‘As long as the fire in the kitchen is alight, the water in the cistern behind it is hot. Sir Josiah liked his bath and his servants were too old to carry water up to his room so he had this installed.’ He turned a second lever and adjusted the flow of both. ‘This water comes from the well.’
She peered over the edge of the tub. A wooden ledge ran around its circumference about a third of the way up the sides. ‘A seat?’
‘Mmm,’ he said, stirring in a deliciously scented oil and adjusting the levers. The water continued to fill the tub, creeping upwards until it was more than half full. He turned off the water.
The idea of soaking in a tub of hot water was just too irresistible. ‘This is marvellous. Are you saying I may use it?’
‘Of course. There is soap on the shelf back there. Not very feminine, I’m afraid, but better than the scent of smoke.’ He went to another cupboard. ‘Dash it. No towels. I must have used the last one earlier this evening. I know where there are more.’ He strode off.
Cassie dipped her fingertips in the water. Perfect. And the scent was lovely. Sandalwood. An earthy manly scent that reminded her of him. She stared at the water. Dare she? It would be terribly wicked. But what had being good ever got her? An old irascible husband. A stepson who hated her. It had brought her the girls she loved as if they were her own, though. If she could only find a way to keep them.
Again, her mind began whirling with thoughts, options, plans and, worst of all, worries. Adam was right, a bath would help her relax, perhaps even help her to sleep. Trying to deal with two girls on a long journey while bone tired was not something to contemplate with equanimity.
And travelling with the smell of smoke tainting her every breath would only make it worse. She pulled the pins from her hair and set to work on removing her gown. Before leaving the cottage, she’d exchanged her nightgown for the only thing left unpacked, the comfortable old-fashioned sack dress she had planned to wear on the journey. It fastened with a bow at the neck and a tie under the bust. It took her no more than a moment to step out of the gown and fold it. Next she stripped off her stockings. She hadn’t bothered with stays when she had dressed so quickly, but should she keep her shift on? If she did, it would never dry by morning. She didn’t have enough clothes to be leaving any behind. Hearing no sound of Adam returning, she whipped it off over her head. She climbed up the steps and threw one leg over the rim of the tub. The water was just hot enough to make her toes tingle.
A moment later, her foot stopped complaining about the heat and she brought the other leg over. Using the seat to step down, she immersed herself to her neck, the deliciously scented steam rising around her. Blissful. Sir Josiah had known a thing or two about pleasure. The