Who Will Take This Man?

He felt some of the tension ease from her body. “In that case,” she said, a smile trembling on her lips, “I shall do my utmost to be gentle with you.”

He smiled in return. “My darling Meredith, you have no idea how much I anticipate you doing so.”

Without taking his gaze off her, he unbuttoned her bodice, then slowly slipped her gown from her shoulders, revealing her delicate clavicle, and porcelain skin stained with a faint blush. “The first time I kissed you, at Vauxhall, my only regret was that it was so dark. I wanted to see you. Your skin. Your body. Your eyes. Your reactions. And now I have you in the light…” He eased her gown downward, over her arms, past her hips, then let it go to spill into a forest-green puddle at her feet.

Meredith drew in a quick breath and all the tension she’d only just pushed aside roared back at standing before him wearing only her undergarments. Taking her hand, he helped her step from the center of her fallen gown. He then picked up the garment and draped it over the back of a leather chair. Returning to her, he dropped to one knee. “Hold on to my shoulders.”

She did as he bade, and he gently lifted one foot, then the other, sliding off her shoes. He smoothed his hands up her calves, then the backs of her thighs, shooting shivers of delight up her spine. When his fingers skimmed near the edges of her garters, he looked up at her.

“The first time we met, after you’d swooned in St. Paul’s-”

“I prefer to call it an uncharacteristic moment of lightheadedness.”

“I’m certain you do. After you swooned, I told you I would not dream of touching your garters without your express permission.”

“Actually, you said you probably would not dream of touching them without my express permission. I thought you were incorrigible.”

“lam.”

“I also recall assuring you that you would never receive such permission.”

“You did. May I touch your garters, Meredith?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please do.”

He untied the ribbons and slipped off her stockings, leaving her to curl her bare toes into the fire-warmed rug.

Then he rose, and her breath stalled when he edged his fingers beneath the straps of her chemise and slowly drew the garment down her body, letting it fall at her feet.

His gaze tracked slowly downward, touching her everywhere like a heated caress, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her nipples hardened into aching points, and her breathing turned shallow.

Reaching out, he took her hands, entwining their fingers. “Meredith…” Her name passed his lips in a rough whisper. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful.” Lifting her hands to his lips, he pressed a fervent kiss against the sensitive inside of her wrist. Tingles raced up her arm, shooting liquid heat through her, which settled low in her belly. Surely she should feel some embarrassment at standing naked before him, yet all she felt was breathless exhilaration. Heady anticipation. And an overwhelming impatience to remove his clothing so she could see him as well, feel him against her, skin to skin.

Disentangling one of her hands from his, she reached out and skimmed her fingers down the front of his shirt. “One of us is wearing far too many garments.”

His eyes darkened with a combination of heat and amusement. Releasing her hand, he pulled his shirt from his breeches, then settled his arms at his sides. “I am at your disposal, madam.”

Intrigued at the thought of undressing him, she applied herself to the row of buttons down the front of his shirt. When she finished the last one, she slowly parted the material, slipping the fine lawn over his shoulders and down his arms. Her avid gaze took in his wide shoulders, broad chest, and muscled arms. Golden, tanned skin, sprinkled with dark brown hair that narrowed into a fascinating ribbon that bisected his ridged abdomen, before disappearing into the waistband of his breeches.

Encouraged by the desire so evident in his eyes, she placed her hands on his chest, then splayed her fingers, absorbing the warmth of his skin, delighting in the sensation of his hair tickling against her palm, his heartbeat thudding beneath her fingertips. She inhaled deeply, filling her head with the delightful, woodsy-clean scent that belonged to him alone. Captivated, she experimentally glided her hands across the expanse of firm muscles, and was rewarded with a masculine groan. Emboldened by that response, she smoothed her hands over him again, marveling at the firm, smooth texture of his skin, his hard muscles contracting beneath her palms. But when she feathered her fingertips down, over his abdomen, he sucked in a breath and grasped her wrists.

“If you continue to do that, I won’t last very long, and I am not yet finished taking care of you. There is still your bath to see to. Let me help you into the tub. The warm water will relax you, and relieve any soreness from our fall.”

“But what about you? You fell as well.”

“Which is why I intend to join you in the bath.”

His words, coupled by the sensual glitter in his eyes, fired a tingling flame through her. Pulling her gaze from his, she turned to look at the shiny brass tub, noticing for the first time its size. It was wider and considerably longer than any tub she’d ever seen, and did indeed appear large enough to fit two people-provided they sat very close to each other. “I’ve never seen a tub such as this.”

“I had it made in Italy. As I enjoy the healing and relaxation properties of a soak in warm water, and do not care to fold myself up like a paper fan, I required something considerably larger than a hip bath. I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”

Holding his hand for balance, she climbed upon the small wooden stool, stepped over the edge of the tub, then lowered herself into the heated water.

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Close your eyes and relax. I shall return in a moment.”

“Where are you going?”

His gaze slid down her body. “To fetch my strigil.”

Admiring his broad back, she watched him walk toward a door she assumed led to his dressing room, and recalled their conversation in the warehouse about the strigil… how it was used by ancient Greeks and Romans for scraping moisture off their skin after bathing. And the wealth of sensual images that conversation had inspired. Of him, and her, naked in the bath-never daring to hope that such fantasies could become reality. Was it only an hour ago she’d told herself that he wasn’t hers to touch? Hers to kiss? Yet now he was all that, and so much more. He was hers to love. And marry. And care for. And bathe with…

The curls of steam rising from the water had nothing to do with the heat coursing through her. The door he’d disappeared through opened, and he walked toward her, wearing a dark blue silk robe, the sash loosely knotted about his waist. She noted his bare feet, and her heart sped up at the realization that the robe was all he wore. In one hand he carried a folded towel, in the other hand he carried a strigil, identical to the one she’d cataloged at the warehouse, except this one was made of highly polished brass and looked considerably newer.

After setting down the towel and strigil next to the towel whoever had prepared the bath had already left, he crouched down alongside the tub. Dipping his hand into the water, he trailed his fingers along her thigh. “How does the water feel?”

“Nice. Warm.” Summoning her courage, she added, “Lonely.”

Heat flickered in his eyes, and without a word, he rose, untied the sash securing his robe, then shrugged the garment from his body. Her gaze wandered slowly downward, from his shoulders and chest, following that captivating silky line of hair down his abdomen to his…

Oh, my.

Lower, that silky ribbon spread to cradle his fully erect manhood. Fascination and trepidation collided in her, and her gaze flew up to meet his. His ardor was obvious, but judging by the banked fire in his eyes, it was also clear that he was holding himself in tight control.

He stepped to the edge of the tub. “Move forward a bit,” he said softly.

Entranced, she did as he bade her, watching over her shoulder as he stepped over the edge, then lowered himself to sit behind her.

The water rose, coming within inches of sloshing over onto the carpet. He slipped his long legs on either side of her, then, grasping her shoulders, eased her backward until her entire back reclined against his chest, warm water lapping at her shoulders. He fitted his arms beneath hers, wrapping them lightly around her waist.

Sensations bombarded her from every direction. The incredible feel of his naked body surrounding hers, their