Betrayal cut through her heart with a razor's edge. "You told her the truth?"
"No."
"Then how—"
Jude pulled his shirt over his head with such abruptness she felt the breeze of it across her face. His scent floated to her. That recognizable spice of some masculine soap, but tinged with sweat and horse now from his long ride. "I told her I'd received a disturbing letter, and I wanted to know if she'd sent it. Now if you'll excuse me, Miss York, I need a wash." Miss York. That felt surprisingly painful. She'd been dismissed. He turned to pour water from the ewer as if she weren't there. It must be icy cold, and yet he dipped a rag in the water and rubbed it against a ball of soap.
"I don't see why you believe her, just because she claims she didn't do it."
"Because we talked about more than that, and I believe she was telling the truth about it all."
The sick dread spiraled high at that, but it got wound up with excitement as she watched Jude swipe the soapy cloth over his neck and face, then down his chest and beneath his arms. Her sex tightened at the sight of the dripping water.
How very odd to watch this: Jude making the same movements she made as she washed. Such a pedestrian activity, but so fascinating to see him clean his strong chest and bulging arms. Milky water skimmed down his belly, tangling with the hair that trailed to his waistline.
She'd never observed him so naked before, and he looked very... different. Wide where she was not, narrow in places that her body had curves. His back formed a fascinating until it straightened at his hips.
Marissa could hear her own breath as it quickened. He dipped the rag in the basin and washed himself again with clearwater. Without looking at her, he reached for the buttons of his trousers. "Does she love you?" Marissa blurted out.
He glanced toward her and dropped his hands. She thought he was being modest, but then he sat in a chair and began to tug off his boots. Not modest then. He'd forgotten his boots.
"Probably not."
She clenched her hands to fists. "Why must you speak in maddening phrases? What does that even mean?"
And why are you being so cold to me she left unasked. She knew why. She only wanted to know if it was permanent. What a silly question that was. Do you think you'll be angry with me for very long?
Jude stared at her as he tugged off his second boot and slipped his stockings off. The sight of his feet startled her. They were very large. In perfect proportion to his body, she supposed, as she'd never noticed them before. But now, naked, they were wide and strong, and his toes had hair. She fought the impulse to slip off her shoe and place her fool next to his. He would dwarf her, she was sure.
She tore her eyes away and found that he was still looking straight at her. Holding her gaze, Jude stood and reached for the buttons again.
"Mrs. Wellingsly and I sat together." First button, "I asked what she'd meant by our previous conversation." Second button. "About love." Third button, He turned to the side to face the basin again, and then Jude Bertrand slid off his breeches. She couldn't stop her gasp. He must have heard it, as it echoed in her own ears, but he didn't glance at her. He just reached for the rag. As if he weren't naked, As if she weren't looking at her first nude man. He twisted a bit, and her wide-eyed gaze focused on his bottom. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle I any further sounds of shock, Marissa devoured him with her eyes. His buttocks were tight mounds of muscle, with slight indentations that hollowed out the sides when he moved. The skin was so smooth and pale compared to the rest of his body, and her lingers twitched with the urge to touch him. To run her fingers down his spine, all the way to his arse. And then farther, down to his thighs, which curved out with strength and roughened with hair.
Water dripped down those thighs before snaking around his calves and soaking into the carpet. The spice of the soap grew heavy in the air, and it twisted around her, making her dizzy. He grabbed a towel, and stepped onto it to avoid dripping any more water on the floor. The distraction of the towel momentarily kept Marissa from realizing that he'd turned toward her, but when she saw his front side, she pressed her fingers so hard to her mouth that her lips went numb, Up to this point, she'd only had hurried glimpses of men in the dark. There'd been a basic understanding of shape and mechanics, but nothing more. But now she had a full view of Jude's manhood and all the ... accoutrement.
His staff hung thick and heavy, the skin of it ruddier than she'd imagined. His bullocks hung beneath, tight and rounded. He must have washed already, because the dark hair around his shaft was wet, and his flesh glistened with water. As she watched, the shaft thickened before her eyes. She drew in a deep breath to try to calm her trembling heart.
"When I spoke with Mrs. Wellingsly," he continued as if nothing had interrupted the conversation, "she admitted she'd been considering the idea of falling in love with me."
Those might have been the only words that could've drawn her eyes away from his manhood. She focused on his face and the brutal cold in his gaze. "She did?"
"Yes." He drew the rag in a slow swipe across his chest. "She admires me. She wants me."
Marissa's eyelids fluttered with shock. Her stomach turned.
"But she's realized that she doesn't love me. Not truly. She only loves the idea of me."
Relief crashed over her, but the flood stirred up more fear. He'd be thinking of Patience Wellingsly now. How could he not? A beautiful woman who had confessed her admiration and desire... he must be wondering what it would be like to accept what she offered. He must imagine it. . . .
While she tried to light the fear, Jude finished washing. He rinsed his whole body one last time, then reached for another sheet of linen.
"Mrs. Wellingsly sends her well wishes, by the way. She said she was happy for the match. I think she meant it."
His eyes never left her as he toweled off, but Marissa
's gaze roamed over his nakedness, taking it all in, noticing the way his shaft grew even wider and rose up in eager arousal. Just as it had when she'd touched his chest. When she'd kissed him and straddled his hips.
He wanted her. Still. Even when he was angry. And she wanted the chance to have more of him.