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“I’ve never noticed,” she said. “It isn’t something a lady pays attention to, and when I am dressing and undressing I am never completely naked before my maid. Do you mean that my chest would do this too, if you touched me?”
If he touched her? Rubbing his fingers across the tips of her breasts…It was almost too much for him to bear in his weakened state.
“Yes,” he managed.
For one incredible moment he thought she was going to ask him to do just that, and he knew he couldn’t. Not now. He wanted her, and he had said yes to her preposterous plan, but he didn’t think it was quite the thing to have her on her back the first day of their temporary affair.
“I’m tired, Marietta,” he said quietly.
She was clearly embarrassed. “Oh Max, I’m so sorry. You are ill, of course you are. How…thoughtless of me.”
“No, not at all,” he said, trying to smile but knowing it was more like a grimace. “I enjoyed you touching me.”
“Did you?” she smiled in relief. “I enjoyed it too.”
“Can you tell Pomeroy to come up?”
Marietta rose at once. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He turned and looked up at her, his eyes bright in the lamplight. “Don’t—I enjoyed it.”
Far too much.
“Good.” She looked relieved that she had done nothing wrong.
But Max wanted her to go. He found he didn’t know what to say or think or do, and he wanted her to leave him alone so that he could try and understand what was happening to him. So that he could be himself again.
“Goodbye, Max. I’ll call on you again soon.”
He opened his mouth, but what could he say? No? He had already agreed to her request, and now she was going to make the most of it. Practicing at being a courtesan! When all he wanted to do, right now, headache and all, was to tumble her into his bed and make her his.
God help me.
“Max? Are you all right?”
“Tired,” he said, and pretended to fall asleep. Thankfully she took the hint and went away. Alone, he hovered on the verge of sleep. Until he realized he could still smell her scent, just as if she were in the room with him, and jolted awake again, his body hard and wanting her.
“My lord?” It was Pomeroy. “Are you quite well? You have taken off your clothing, sir.”
“I was hot.”
Pomeroy didn’t reply, making a valiant attempt to keep his face from showing any emotion.
“Is she gone?”
“Miss Greentree? She’s downstairs, my lord. She insisted on complimenting Mrs. Pomeroy.” The old man sounded pleased, so Max bit back the urge to complain. Instead he silently cursed Ian Keith for ever asking him to come up in his balloon when he knew he had troubles enough, because that was when he had first laid eyes on Marietta Greentree. And now it seemed he would never be rid of her.
But more disturbing than that thought—he didn’t want to.
Chapter 7
“I’m glad you and his lordship enjoyed my poor efforts, miss.”
Marietta smiled at Mrs. Pomeroy’s modesty in regard to her excellent tea tray. “I do hope Lord Roseby appreciates you as he should,” she said more seriously.
Mrs. Pomeroy gave the long dining table a vigorous rub with her cloth and then admired the shine on the old wood. “He’s a good master, and a good man,” she said loyally. “I wish—” but tears sprang to her eyes and she shook her head.
“He says he is going to go and live in his mother’s house in Cornwall,” Marietta said gently.
