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Two days in Emma’s company, and he was dangerously close to declaring his undying love. He’d never seriously thought about his future before—it seemed like he’d be tempting fate to imagine it in prison—but now a whole vista of possibilities was opening up before him.
Getting married had seemed equally far-fetched. Despite the happy unions of his friends—Nic with Marianne, Raven with Heloise, and Richard with Sabine—he’d never really believed such a thing could happen to him. But Emma Townsend had turned his life upside down.
Andrew had been the very best of men, and his sister was cut from the same cloth. Caring, Kind. Fearless. The thought of being permanently attached to her wasn’t so impossible to contemplate.
Kit snorted under his breath. The main flaw to that plan, of course, was that Emma was in no hurry to settle down. As a wealthy heiress with little interest in bowing to society’s rules, she had the luxury of being able to go where she wished and do as she pleased.
She would be off on her next adventure as soon as she’d convinced the Botanical Society to acknowledge her latest discovery.
Still, he could enjoy her company for what little time they had together. Tomorrow was Christmas day and despite the fact that he’d been invited to spend the day with all three of his friends and their wives, he was glad he’d refused.
He would have Emma all to himself.
Chapter 6
Christmas day dawned gray and chill, and a wicked idea seized Emma as she gazed out over the frost-hardened landscape. Her body ached in various places from her tumble from the tree, and as the cold seeped in between the leaded panes of the window the lure of a relaxing soak in the hot pool was too strong to ignore.
The house was barely staffed, and it was too early for Kit himself to be up and about.
She slipped into her dressing robe, grabbed a fresh bath linen from the rail, and descended the stairs. She knew the way to the hothouse now.
The place felt magical, like an exotic cathedral of green as she stepped through the double doors. Tendrils of steam swirled and skated over the surface of the water, playing in invisible currents. The air she sucked into her lungs was hot and wet; the droplets coated her throat and beaded her face like dew.
Condensation had made the hundreds of panes of glass opaque, adding a further sense of privacy to the place. The scent of moist earth and fecund greenery stirred something within her, something base and primal, a connection to the earth and the incredible lush bounty it produced.
As she stepped to the edge of the bathing pool she debated whether to keep her cotton shift on for modesty, then decided against it. She wanted to know the decadent feel of the water completely unencumbered by clothing.
Discarding her shift, she started down the steps and a sigh of pure bliss escaped her as the heat of the water seeped into her body, from shins, to knees, to thighs. When she reached the last step the water was up to her waist and she sank down up to her shoulders with a groan of pleasure.
Oh, this was divine!If she ever decided to return to England permanently she would have to look into installing something just like this at her London residence. Or perhaps she should purchase a house somewhere here in Somerset? Near Kit.
Delighted with the thought, she cupped some water in her hands and let it trickle out along her arms, then lay back in the water and allowed herself to float. Her mind drifted to the sinful fantasy of Kit, there with her; the water lapping at her breasts and thighs were his hands, skimming over her in a sinful caress.
Her cheeks flushed even more.
After ten minutes of soaking she regretfully left the water. It wouldn’t do to be found swimming naked. She squeezed her hair and dried herself off, then donned her bathrobe and made her way back to her room.
The momenthe heard the door close behind Emma Kit slumped back against the iron bench and let out a slow, calming exhale.
Dear God, he hadn’t intended to spy on her bathing. He’d just been finishing up his daily round of exercises when she’d slipped in through the door. Since he’d been shirtless and sweaty he hadn’t wanted to alarm her, so he’d ducked behind a clump of foliage, assuming she’d simply check on her precious plants and then leave.
Instead, however, he’d been frozen into immobility when she slid out of her dressing gown and tugged her chemise over her head.
The sight of her naked body had almost brought him to his knees. She was beautiful, like a golden goddess or mythical water nymph. A siren who could tempt a man gladly to his watery grave.
Watching her was so wrong. But even as Kit berated himself as the worst sort of scoundrel, he couldn’t stop drinking her in. She was perfection. Smooth, rounded limbs, sweet breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples. Waist and hips so curved and inviting. He’d clenched his hands into fists against the need to touch. To see if her skin was as soft and luscious as it appeared.
When she’d slipped into the water and groaned her pleasure aloud he’d almost lost his mind. Droplets glistened over her shoulders and beaded on her cheeks and her skin had flushed a charming rosy shade from the heat. Kit had swallowed hard, praying for her to leave and end his torment . . . while simultaneously hoping the moment would never end.
After she finally left he felt his body relax once more. A wry smile stretched his lips. He couldn’t have imagined a better Christmas present. Except, perhaps, for her so naked in his bed.
Chapter 7
Later that morning, Emma checked her plants and was delighted to see that at least two of the buds had opened into flowers. When Kit entered the greenhouse not long after, she greeted him with a euphoric smile.
“Look! They’re starting to bloom! Come and see.”
He crossed to her side and she tried to hide her blush. He really was the most handsome man. She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
