Damn. Sam hadn’t thought this through. He didn’t have a free hand for the door handle. He rapped the door a second time.
“Just come in,” came Jasper’s voice again.
Gritting his teeth, Sam tried to swap his arms over, clumsily trapping the bundle of clothes to his chest with his false arm while he reached down to turn the handle with his right hand.
It was a stupid decision. The door flew open with unexpected ease, and Sam stumbled forward, losing his grip on the clothes, which dropped to the floor. Sam tripped over them, half-falling into the bedchamber… just in time to see a very wet, and very naked, Jasper Huxley climbing out of the bath.
Chapter Four
Jasper
“Just come in,” Jasper called again when Archer didn’t open the door—had the footman heard him? Or perhaps it was another of the servants?
When nothing happened, he sighed and began to lever himself out of the water, only to freeze in place when the door suddenly flew open, a pile of garments tumbled onto the floor, and a large male figure tripped gracelessly over the threshold after them, only just saving himself from falling on his arse.
Sam Alderton?
Jasper stared. Yes, that was Sam Alderton standing in the open doorway… and staring at Jasper’s naked body with a kind of horrified fascination.
“Bloody hell,” Sam gasped, tearing his gaze away. “I’m so sorry! I was holding—that is, I didn’t expect the door to open so suddenly!”
He crouched down and began inelegantly scooping up the spilled clothing with one arm.
For a moment, Jasper was confused by that, and then he remembered—Sam had lost an arm. The limb occupying his left sleeve was an artificial one. Jasper’s gaze flickered to the wooden hand at the end of that sleeve.
Oh, hell.
“Let me help,” he blurted, hopping out of the bath, only to realise—when Sam glanced up at him—what an extraordinarily odd thing that was to do in his wet and naked state.
Jasper froze, dripping water onto the rug, while Sam slowly straightened. He was clutching a few items of clothing to his chest. The rest were strewn on the floor.
For a long, silent moment, they stood there, staring at one another, and all Jasper could think was that Sam Alderton was still as impossibly handsome as he had ever been. Oh, there was his arm, and something in his expression that was a little tired, a little defeated. But Christ, he was a fine figure of man.
The finest.
“Jasper,” Sam said, and his voice came out a little strangled. “You’re—“
Jasper looked down at his dripping wet body. “Naked,” he said, and he sounded surprised. “Sorry!” His cheeks began to burn as he frantically looked around for a bath sheet. Finally, he spotted two of them folded up on a small stool on the other side of the bath. He did a strange little dance over to the stool, inwardly cringing as he shook one out and wrapped it around his body like a toga.
He turned then, finally facing Sam.
“So,” he said, forcing cheerfulness even though he could feel his face burning. “Sam Alderton! It’s very good to see you.”
He tugged at the bath sheet, trying to cover his nipples, vaguely aware it was an absurd thing to do but unable to stop himself doing it.
“I, ah”—Sam cleared his throat—“I brought you some clothes. I gather your luggage is still to arrive.”
“That’s right,” Jasper said. “I rode ahead of the others. Thank you for the loan. It’s very kind.”
“Not at all,” Sam replied. “I thought my clothes would drown you, but you’ve—” He broke off suddenly.
“Yes?” Jasper prompted.
Now Sam was blushing. “It looks like you’ve grown since I last saw you.”
Jasper smiled at that. “I should hope so!” he exclaimed. “I was seventeen the last time I saw you—I put on a couple of inches after you left and filled out a bit too. So I’m not quite as scrawny as I was when you last saw me.”
“You weren’t scrawny, exactly,” Sam said.
Jasper laughed. “Oh come on, Sam! You used to call me Twig.”
“When I was twelve!” Sam protested.
“It went on a bit longer than that,” Jasper corrected. “I distinctly recall you calling me Twig on my fifteenth birthday.”
Sam groaned. “Did I? I apologise.”
Jasper chuckled, and Sam smiled back a little uncertainly.
God, but Jasper loved that smile. Had anyone in this world ever appealed to him as this man did? Sam was so handsome, his hair shoved carelessly back from his brow in dark, messy waves, his jaw and brow and cheekbones as perfectly carved as a Greek statue, only all the more appealing for being warm with life. Jasper’s fingers twitched with the desire to draw him
It was Sam who looked away first, glancing down at the clothes he was clutching to his chest. “Let me put this down,” he said and turned away, striding over to the bed and setting it all down in an untidy heap, next to the sketchbooks that Jasper had pulled out of his leather folio, which—thank goodness—weren’t open.
Sam’s gaze caught on the sketchbooks for a moment, but he didn’t comment on them, thankfully.
“I’m sorry. The clothes are a bit crumpled now,” he said. “But I can have someone take them away and have them pressed for you.”
“No, it’s all right,” Jasper assured him. “They’re not too bad, and it’s only till my own things arrive.”
Sam bent to retrieve the final items from the floor. He took those over to the bed too and set them on the pile. And then he just stood there, making no move to leave.
A few moments passed, and Jasper was beginning to wonder if Sam was waiting for him to say something, when Sam finally cleared his throat.
“Listen, Jasper,” he began. “I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you on your own before everyone else arrives. I wanted to—that is, I thought we ought to clear the air.”
“Clear the air?” Jasper echoed.
“Yes.” Sam paused, and his colour deepened. “Do you remember the last time you were here? That last night. When we were down at the lake?”
Jasper stared at Sam, reluctantly fascinated. His cheeks were scarlet now, and he was looking anywhere but at Jasper.
In all honesty, Jasper was astonished that Sam was bringing this up. He’d assumed that Sam would simply pretend it had never happened. In Jasper’s experience, that was how things were usually done, both chaps silently agreeing never to acknowledge what had occurred.
But oh, how like Sam Alderton not to do that.
“I do remember,” Jasper said lightly. And because Sam looked so wretched, he tried to lighten the moment with his self-deprecating sense of humour, mock-fanning himself and saying, “Far too often, in my case.”
Sam looked horrified.
Damn. Jasper had only intended to make light of the matter. It was often the easiest way with these sorts of misunderstandings. A way of showing that Jasper was that sort of man—the slightly feminine, unthreatening kind. Perhaps a bit annoying but easily dismissed.
Clearly, though, Sam didn’t find that in any way reassuring.