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“Resourceful.” Celia stared at her, uncertain whether she should be amused or insulted. She thought suddenly of her years at the foundling home, and how the girls had all gathered into whispering, giggling groups at night to talk. The conversations had inevitably turned to boys, and the wisest of the group had enlightened them on matters of sex in the most graphic terms. Some of the girls had even practiced kissing, though Celia refrained. It had been a most illuminating education she would never have learned from the nuns.
Now, gazing at Carolyn’s expectant, hopeful face, she said slowly, “I suppose I know more than Charlotte.”
It was awkward at first, but Celia explained the basics as succinctly as she could, recognizing from Carolyn’s wide eyes and disbelieving gaze that she knew absolutely nothing about sexual matters.
“Has no one ever told you anything?” she asked bluntly, and Carolyn shook her head.
“No. Oh my. It’s—it’s much more intimate than I had thought it would be.”
“But if you love Melwyn, you won’t mind that. You’ll be glad to have him hold you, kiss you and I’m certain he’ll be tender and gentle.”
Not savage and ruthless like Northington.…
Carolyn frowned, looking down at her hands as she pleated folds of her skirt between her fingers. “I don’t really know Edwin. How can I love him enough to do—do that?”
For a moment Celia was silent. It was true that she had little experience with the physical aspects of love. But when Northington had held her against him, she’d felt the surge of his desire and her own quivering response. Heat and confusion had churned inside her until she could barely think coherently.
It had shocked her. Never had she suspected she would feel that way with a man. Especially with Northington.
“I think,” she said slowly, and felt Carolyn looking at her, “that there must be some natural instinct that takes over.”
It was the only logical explanation for returning Northington’s kiss, for allowing him to haunt her dreams and even her waking thoughts.
“Yes,” Carolyn said with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true. I’ll hope my natural instincts come to my rescue.”
Their discussion was interrupted by Janey’s return, and Carolyn rose at once, yawning. “I’ll leave you to your bath, Celia. I hope your sleep is restful.”
“It will certainly be welcome,” she replied, and was relieved when Carolyn was gone at last. The turmoil of the evening had left her tense, and after Janey laid out her silk dressing gown and the towels, she told her she could go.
“There’s no point in you staying up late just to help with my bath.” Clad in just her muslin shift, she waved a dismissal. “I’ve spent years washing my own back, and will manage quite nicely tonight. Go to bed, Janey.”
It was a relief to be alone again, and once the door was closed behind the maid, Celia quickly untied the sash to her dressing gown and draped it over a chair, then stepped into the tub, her toes curling into deliciously hot water. As she sank down into the huge tub that was indeed sunk into the floor save for a wide rim, she breathed in the luxuriant heat of fragrant bath salts.
Reaching behind her, she twisted her hair into a coil atop her head, tucking the ends beneath the knot to secure it, then scooted down to rest against the back of the tub. Slowly the hot water eased her tension, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the release as water lapped around her shoulders. Across the spacious room, a fire burned in the grate, crackling with a comforting sound.
It was the first time she’d been able to relax, truly relax, in some time, and maybe it was the combination of wine and weariness, but whatever it was, she drifted in a pleasant haze.
Nothing else seemed to matter, not the past or the present or even tomorrow.
Oh, the water was so nice and warm, the scent so soothing…
Something warm and solid brushed over her cheek and she sat up with a start, splashing water into her eyes.
“Hello, mermaid,” Northington said softly. His face was blurred through the water that clung to her lashes but there was no mistaking the knowing curve of his mouth.
And there was no mistaking his intent, for he wore nothing other than that damned insolent smile.
16
Vapors rose from the hot water, wreathing his face. He didn’t move, but leaned on the wide ledge of the tub only a few inches from her. Shocked, Celia crossed her arms over her chest and quickly slid down in the water. She stared at him for a long moment before finding her voice.
“What are you doing in here?”
It came out all wrong, a husky whisper instead of an angry demand, but she was far too aware of him, the golden sheen of his skin, the dark blue of his eyes and the smile that seemed to reach inside her soul.
Feverishly she thought that he was far too close to her, and if he stood up, she would see more of him than she needed to see. Panic rose to clog her throat.
“You know why I’m here,” he said softly, and it sounded so ordinary, the way he said it without his usual mockery, that she couldn’t contradict him.
