“Second tub?”
“A shallow one for me. I thought I’d have it put in here and let you have the bed chamber.”
“That’s thoughtful.”
“Hmm. But if you don’t want it—”
“I do.” She rose. A bath like this one was a rare treat as it was a serious undertaking to fetch, carry, and heat enough water for a bath. She and her father usually made do with cold water and a rough towel. She’d been given warm water at Lady Keating’s, but not enough to submerge herself or to wash her hair. Belle looked at the bed chamber then back at Arundel.
“I assure you I will not disturb you. The key to the door is on the dresser. Lock it if that makes you feel better.” Another knock interrupted them. “That will be my bath.”
“Excuse me then.” And Belle went into the bed chamber and closed the door. She leaned against it and stared at the tub, steam rising from the warm water. She crossed to the tub, dipped a hand in it, and smiled at the temperature. This would be a true luxury. The basket of toiletries was at her feet, and she saw she had a choice of soaps in a variety of fragrances, as well as hair washes. How lovely not to freeze her head while she washed her hair.
She slipped off her shoes and began to unfasten her gown when she remembered the key on the dresser. She could hear the footmen taking their leave from the salon on the other side of the door. That meant Arundel would undress and take his own bath. Meanwhile, she would be naked in this room.
She went to the dresser, lifted the key, then set it down again, leaving the door unlocked as she finished undressing and stepped into the steaming water.
Chapter Seventeen
Hew would have liked to have made use of the large tub in the bed chamber, but he contented himself with the hip bath. The water reached his waist and kept his stitches dry. Careful of his wound, he used soap and a cloth to clean his chest, arms, and shoulders. Then he dried off and utilized a basin to wash his hair. By the time the barber arrived, a quarter hour later, he was dry and dressed in trousers and a bathrobe. He’d forgotten to fetch clean clothing from his bed chamber before Belle had gone inside and closed the door. He could hear the sounds of water sloshing about on the other side of the door, and he was trying very hard not to imagine her naked and in the bathtub.
He was actually grateful for the barber’s appearance and even more grateful for the man’s conversation while he shaved Hew. For a few minutes, Hew was able to think about something other than what he would have liked to do to Miss Howard.
Hew was not the sort of man to chase after women or take strangers to his bed. He’d gone to his marriage bed a virgin, and he’d fully embraced the pleasures he’d found there. When his wife had left—such an innocuous way to put it—Hew hadn’t thought about that aspect of his life for some time. He’d been too angry, too humiliated, and then too devastated. He had sometimes thought about finding a lover, but he didn’t want a courtesan or a married woman—definitely not a married woman. He would have considered a widow, but his work as a diplomat and then with the Royal Saboteurs had meant he was too often traveling or training to cultivate any special friendships with women. No doubt this was why he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about taking Belle Howard to bed. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and Belle was undeniably attractive. It wasn’t just her appearance, though that was appealing. He liked the way she spoke, the way she went a bit dreamy when she spoke of tea, and the look of ecstasy on her face when she tasted a blend she approved of.
He wondered if she looked like that in bed.
And he didn’t think he would ever find out. It was best if he never found out.
The barber finished, and Hew gave him a coin and bid him good day. Alone now, he didn’t hear any sounds from the bed chamber, and the silence only made his imagination more active.
Hew tried to remind himself that right now he was free to walk away from Belle as soon as he returned her father to her safe and sound. He had kissed her and nothing more. He had no obligations. That was what he wanted. He’d vowed never to marry again. He knew what women were, and he wanted no part of another marriage.
And yet, the lure of Belle Howard was almost irresistible. Before he knew what he was about, he had risen and walked, barefoot, to the bed chamber door. He didn’t know what he intended. Perhaps he wanted to listen at the door or just ensure she had locked it. But when his hand touched the latch, it lifted and swung open to reveal Belle, wrapped only in a towel, standing near the fire.
She turned to him, not seeming surprised that he had intruded upon her. Her hair was slick and wet. She held a brush and had obviously been combing the tangles from her hair after washing it. The ends of her hair dripped onto her bare shoulders and down her back, pooling in the cloth from the towel that covered her from chest to knees. Below the knees, her legs were slim, and her small feet looked pink and clean in the firelight.
“How was your bath?” she asked. Hew drew in a breath. He should turn around and walk out now. She should tell him to go.
“Good. And yours?” He closed the door behind him, and she took a step to the mantel and set the brush there.
“Perfect.”
Hew leaned against the dresser. “You didn’t lock the door.”
“You said you wouldn’t disturb me.”
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.
One word.
One cross look and he would go. He could still walk away.
“Not yet.” And with those cryptic words, she dropped her towel. It was like a punch in the chest to watch the white cloth slip down her body and pool at the floor. His heart clenched, and he couldn’t seem to draw in a breath. But his eyes knew what to do. They feasted on the sight of her, all exposed flesh and lovely curves. She was petite and slim, her breasts small and high. Her waist was tiny, and her hips flared briefly before the heart-shaped roundness of her bottom.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked.
“Very much.” And then he was walking across the room, walking to her, seemingly powerless to stop himself from reaching out and putting his hands on her waist. Her skin was warm, but she’d be cold in a moment if she stood naked much longer. The subtle scent of citrus floated up from her hair and her skin, and underneath it the scent he always associated with her. He looked down into her eyes, so large and brown. There was a question in those eyes, and he imagined his own held a question as well.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’ve been sure,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“No.” But he pushed the doubts from his mind because her skin was soft and warm, and his hands traveled down and over her firm bottom, cupping her cheeks and drawing her against him. He was hard, and the heat of her made his cock ache with need. She put her arms about him and pressed her lips to his, and through his robe he felt the hard points of her nipples against his chest.
How in God’s name was he supposed to resist this?
She made a small sound of pleasure as one hand left her bottom and cupped a pert breast. He slid his thumb over her nipple, and she gasped, her mouth opening and her head falling back. Hew took the opportunity to kiss her throat and then to slide the hand on her bottom between her legs. She jerked in surprise, and he paused until she opened her eyes again and met his gaze.