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“I am well. It’s just… Never mind. I’ll feel better after a bath and supper. Do you mind if I bathe first? You can have your supper with your back turned, and I’ll…” She gestured to the bath. “It’s just that I am cold and dirty. I can’t possibly eat like this.”
“Certainly.” He turned his chair to face the window and listened to her disrobe, the traitorous sounds of fabric peeling off her body and leaving her skin absolutely naked. He couldn’t help but imagine her pulling the gown from her shoulders, then pushing it to the floor, peeling her chemise off her wet body. He didn’t hear her take off her stays; he could only imagine that she hadn’t worn them the whole day. If he turned his head just a little, he would see… He heard a splash, signaling that she lowered herself into the bath, and he closed his eyes. This was torture. His fork fell to his plate with a clatter. He stood, not bothering to finish his supper, and walked to the door.
“A-are you leaving?” She stammered out the words. Gabriel paused with his hand on the door handle and turned to look at her.
“Yes, I was—” He stopped mid-sentence. Her expressive eyes were wide with horror, her lips parted. Just then, another boom of roaring thunder shook the inn roof. Evie visibly flinched again.
“You are not afraid of a thunderstorm, are you?”
Evie swallowed audibly and shook her head. His gaze narrowed on that light ripple in her throat.
He forced himself to meet her eyes. “Youareafraid!”
“I…” Evie lowered herself deeper into the bath water, making herself as small as possible, and closed her eyes. “Maybe,” she finally said with a grimace.
“Do you want me to stay?” He turned to face her, leaned his back against the door, and regarded her lazily.
Evie took a long breath and just stared at him. Gabriel smiled inwardly. She was too proud even to admit she was afraid. But saying that she needed him was completely beyond her. Suddenly, he wanted her to admit that she needed him. Badly.
“You know,” he drawled. “I needed to take care of something, but if you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.”
He took on a deceptively leisurely stance, raised his hand, and studied his nails, waiting for her move.
“Would you please stay here?” she finally muttered under her breath.
“You want me to stay,” he said as loudly as he could without shouting. “Here.”
“Yes,” she answered irritably.
“Let me get this straight.” He flicked an invisible speck off his shoulder. “The shy and proper Lady Eabha Montgomery is asking me”—he pointed at himself—“a notorious rake, to stay here with her and watch her bathe?”
A sponge flew out of her hands and landed squarely in the middle of his chest, wetting his shirt. He caught the sponge in his hands as it bounced off his body.
“And, she wants me to lather her with soap. Mmm, how tempting.”
“I’ve changed my mind; please go away.” Evie covered her face with her hands and lowered her head under the water.
Gabriel chuckled in delight. Despite his teasing, he couldn’t very well leave a woman when she was clearly in distress. Besides, he was having far too grand a time making her blush. In the candlelight, she blushed an alluring color of strawberry pink. The bar wench forgotten, Gabriel pulled his wet and soapy shirt off his back and moved toward the bath just as she emerged from under the water. She regarded him warily as he came to a stop a few inches from her bath and lowered himself to sit beside her. He put the hand that held her sponge into the water.
“Do you need me to give you a nice scrub, too?” he asked, a charming smile on his lips.
“No, I need you to go away.”
The thunder crackled then, making her flinch again.
“You see,” he drawled, weaving the sponge in the water. “I don’t think you do. I think you want me to stay right here.”
“Not right here.” She gestured around her bath. “Right there.” She pointed her finger in the direction of the table. “Preferably with your back turned.”
“What’s the difference?” He shrugged and dropped the sponge in the water. He raised his hand and clutched the bath rim. “We are going to be married soon. I might as well see you naked.”
“I think you’ve seen a fair share of naked women in your lifetime. It is only right that there is one woman you don’t get to see.” She smiled her smug smile at him.
“Don’t you think it unfair that the only woman I don’t get to see naked would be my own wife?”
“Unfair?” She tapped a forefinger on her plump lips, looking thoughtful. “No. Ironic?” She made a gesture of weighing things in her hands. “Maybe. Poetic? Definitely.” She smiled her beguiling smile at him and gestured to their supper table. “Now move, please.”
She used that commanding tone again as if he were a petulant child or a disobedient mare. He unfolded himself and meekly strode in the direction of the table.
