“Oh.” She was ashamed she had not thought of that, and they were her own horses. “Thank you, Robert.”
“Come closer to the fireplace.” He pulled a wooden chair close to the fire but not too close.
“There is not a single piece of cloth to be found here,” she confided as he tried to get her situated in front of the now eagerly burning fire.
He looked balefully at her and back at the fire “And this is the last of the firewood, just enough to burn through the night.”
“What shall we do?” Wait until the rain was over. She was a fool to even ask the question.
“We will not perish of cold, I promise.” She looked worried. He turned to his coat by the fireplace and turned it.
“This promises to be a daylong squall for which this countryside is infamous for,” she continued.
“And your grooms will surely come looking for us,” he tried to reassure her even if he did not feel too assured of the situation himself.
“The rain would have washed our trail away. This isn’t normally where I ride. In the morning we can find our way back by ourselves,” she retorted. With that despairing note she subsided into her chair, shivering badly.
She looked so tired and defeated. His Amelia was unused to being thwarted. “This would never do. You must remove every stitch of clothing.”
“Robert!” Shock had her sitting up and glaring at him. Good.
“This is not time for false modesty Amelia. I, for one, will not allow you to perish from the cold because of your sensibilities. Remove every wet stitch and put on my coat. It is woolen, and quite warmed now.” His tone was brisk and business like. After the initial shock subsided she saw the sense in his suggestions.
“And you?” she challenged lightly.
“Let me tend to you first.” He had her love from that moment. Any man would have politely said he would come after, or that he would take care of himself. But not her Robert, he wanted to tend to her. Something no one had done for her willingly all her life. Servants, no matter how genial, were paid to fuss.
The emotion came, strong and emboldening. It gave her the courage to begin undressing, something she would have
never considered before another man. Then she bent down and pried her shoe off her leg or she tried to. He was suddenly there to push her hands away softly and take over the task.
Her stockings were light and damp, not any kind of protection for the heat of his hand on her ankle. She gasped and he continued without looking up at her. The second shoe thudded much too loudly and startled her. “Thank you, Robert.”
“You can take care of the rest without my help,” he offered, and walked back to turn the coat. It was quite warm now and dry. “Here, don’t forget to take it with you.” He passed it to her.
“Of course.” She stood up, eager now to remove her clothes. The warmth of the fire on her ankles was delicious. She took the offered coat and went to the bedroom area. It was not exactly hidden but it afforded her a bit of privacy.
Away from his immediate view, she nuzzled into the warmth of the coat. It filled her nose with the slight hints of smoke and a scent she would come to associate with him. It was clean and brisk. Soap but with something underlying, more potent, exciting. A coil of heat danced in her belly, making her lift her face from the warm wool. It wouldn’t do to behave wantonly. Her foolishness brought a surge of shame to her face.
She dropped the warm coat on the bed and struggled with her clothes. The tiny buttons clung to the wet cotton, making an already hard job close to impossible. “Robert.” She called for help, the sound muffled by the rain and her mounting shame. “Robert!”
He came running as if he was afraid something had gotten hold of her.
He had been caught in the heavy sound of rain, he found it particularly enjoyable. A storm this wild with the dramatic flashes of lightening and deafening thunder was something he enjoyed very much. The raw display of power and unbridled chaos soothed something primal in him. More than anything he needed soothing this night.
It had taken all of his restraint and reminding himself that he was not a cad, or a green boy to leash his increasing desire. The drenched clothes had revealed her form in full. It showed the lines and curves or at least followed them in a most tantalizing display. Her ankle protected by a thin damp curtain was a sight, but he had shuddered when she gasped, the proof of his desire growing eager.
Then he heard her screaming his name.
He stumbled in his haste only to find her standing still in her drenched clothes and blushing furiously.
“I...I cannot get out of this without your help. I am sorry for asking, I tried but the buttons are a blasted nuisance.” She turned her back and gestured at the troublesome piece of clothing.
He did not think anything of her request. The sudden fear at her raised voice had banished the slight fog of desire in his head. He moved closer and fumbled with the pearl buttons, then the ties of her stays. A body in motion tended to remain in motion. When he had helped her pull off the last layer of clinging cotton he had automatically reached for the next and encountered soft clean flesh, the scent of lemons filling his nose.
If she closed her eyes she could pretend it was Mary, even if her maid could not go about her duties without gabbing. She pushed off each layer as soon as he unlaced it. Just enough to make space for him to reach for the next. She was not quite prepared for the shock of his hand on her skin. A callused finger brushing her ribs. She held her breath.
When she did not protest he placed the flat of his hand on her back. His middle finger traced the upper indenture of her spine. He knew it was improper to take such liberties but he could not deny himself. Her delicious flesh was bared and beautiful. He would move away, and apologize for his forward manners—soon. Not yet, her creamy white skin was a sight and he had to touch it, had to trace the soft curvature of her ribs, skim the top of her shoulders—soon he would...