Like hauling up a brass bathing tub and then lugging pale after pale of boiling water to her bedchamber.
The carriage arrived in front of her tidy Townhouse—the house she now knew was wholly thanks to Thomas—and he’d grumbled a few choice curses beneath his breath before scooping her into his arms, calling for his two footmen to follow him inside and striding up the steps without a single care to who might see them.
He’d deposited his Nora-bundle in her bedchamber, commanded her to stay put, removed his coat, rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal strongly corded forearms dusted in dark hair, and turned to his footmen and to bark orders. The process began slowly as the brass tub and pales were located, but the men did a remarkable job of efficiently preparing a bath for her in a household unfamiliar to them. The last bucket was pouredand Thomas had stretched his back. “This would have been a sight easier twenty years ago.”
Nora had shot him a skeptical look. If anything, he looked even stronger and hardier than he had the last time they’d been this close.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to do all this.”
“No, I didn’t.” He’d fixed her with his penetrating gaze. “You could have stayed with me and all your needs would have been met without backbreaking labor.”
“I cannot stay with you, Thomas,” Nora had said with a heavy sigh of a woman who has repeated herself time and time again.
He ignored her, saying only, “Ring when you are done and we will have the tub emptied and removed.”
“That isn’t necessary,” she said quickly, suddenly keenly aware that no less than four men—Thomas, his footmen, and his driver—would all be waiting for her to bathe.
“Yes, it is.” Thomas’s words brooked no further argument. “Do you need assistance in undressing?”
Though there was no lurid insinuation in his tone, her cheeks burned nonetheless when she shook her head. She’d donned one of her gowns with side lacings that morning and she could dress and undress herself without issue.
She watched him leave and then stepped behind the screen to disrobe and step into the steaming bath. It had been heavenly. Thomas’s body and his presence had kept her warm enough, but this…this was glorious. Adding her favorite oil to the water and selecting a cake of soap, she sank deep below the water and allowed it to warm every inch of her.
When she was done, the tub had been emptied and cleared away by the men, replaced by a tray of supper, hot and fresh. She wondered where Thomas had procured it, but knew she shouldn’t underestimate his determination. He’d left her thatevening with a promise to return the following day so they could resume their search, unwilling to hear any of her arguments to the contrary. Stubborn oaf.
After she’d gratefully eaten her fill of the roast chicken, potatoes, and other root vegetables with crusty bread, she’d curled up on her bed and bundled herself in as many layers as she could stand. The house was unbearably quiet since Thomas and his men had left. She hadn’t realized how comforting the small sounds of other life in the building were until they were absent.
“Just a few more days,” she muttered to herself as reassuringly as she could.
The weather outside had picked back up into a full-blown storm. A crack of lightning caused a flare of white light to fill the room through the gap in her curtains, once again illuminating Beth’s letter where it remained on her desk. She continued staring at it long after the light died away and was replaced with a rolling boom of thunder.
A sigh of resignation heavy on her lips, Nora threw off the blankets and walked over to the table, snatching up the envelope before she could convince herself otherwise. She slit it open with her penknife and carried it back to the bed and the flickering candle she’d set on the nearby table. After tucking herself back in, she stared at Beth’s familiar scrawl on the thick cream envelope and traced her fingers through the slashes and curls of her name. She held her breath and pulled out the letter, unfolding it with slightly unsteady fingers.
Then, she began to read.
Chapter Six
"Thomas!”
Thomas’s head snapped up at the sound of a woman bellowing his name. He’d been sitting down to break his fast and had just barely begun to read the first page of his pressed newspaper when there had been a knock at the front door, followed very quickly by that—
“Thomas!”
That voice.
He stood and tossed down his paper, his heart and body on full alert as he recognized who had come to call this early in the day.
“Nora?” He’d been about to fly into the hall when she materialized in the doorway to the breakfast room. “What is the matter?” Panic rose in his chest as he closed the gap between them and held her upper arms.
She appeared uninjured as he scanned her body, but he wouldn’t believe it until he heard her say so. Her chestnut locks had been tamed and plaited before being pinned to theback of her head in a simple style. Contrary to yesterday’s jet black attire, she wore a gown of creamy dove-grey with minimal adornments. Her color was better and he was pleased to see she didn’t look the slightest bit ill despite the drenching she’d suffered. In fact, her sherry-colored eyes glittered with an excitement he hadn’t witnessed in what felt like forever. It was utterly intoxicating.
And, when he caught her light floral scent—the same hint of lilies he’d smelled after she’d finished her bath—he grew instantly, ferociously, inappropriately hard. She reduced him to a vibrating mass of baser needs and primal instincts. Never had he stopped wanting her or thinking about her, but the degree to which she’d occupied his mind and haunted his fevered dreams the previous night was a new level of obsession. It was like he’d had a taste of something long-forgotten: His memory knew it was delicious, knew that he’d once been addicted to it, but had forgotten just how potent it could be.
That was Nora for him.
And she’d just burst into his house like the girl he’d once known and was thrusting a folded piece of parchment at his chest.
“It’s Beth’s letter!”
