Authors: Annette Blair
“You had accomplished the near-dead state before I arrived.” She rolled him over. “I earn every brass farthing.”
“I cannot agree, as I do not know how much you earn.”
“And you never shall!” As she washed his chest, his interest became pointed and disquieting, and she became self-conscious.
“You missed a spot,” he said.
She looked up, to see if he was serious. “I beg your pardon.” His probing eyes sparkled and Faith wished he would turn his avid examination from her face. Would that she could bathe him and forget it…but the lout must bring it to both their attentions.
“I said, my dear, you have missed a spot.” Even his voice had gained strength in the last weeks.
She had no doubt that he took pleasure in fanning the embers of her discomfort. “Where?” she asked.
He pointed obscurely, somewhere below his belly. “There.”
“Where!”
“Your vocabulary seems to have taken wing, your wits along with it. I indicate your lack because I am uncomfortable, and would like to be washed more thoroughly. More zealously.”
Lord, his words shivered her in the most incredible places.
He raised a brow. “Surely the procedure is not abhorrent to you. Because, my dear, you look as if you have taken a disgust of your work. And with the lavish wages my brother is paying you.”
Faith shut her mouth and lathered the cloth zealously. Perhaps if it was thick with suds and she washed his…parts with speed, the procedure wouldn’t seem so intimate. She gathered the courage to work her way toward that dreaded triangle of mystery.
“Surely mine is not the first man’s body you’ve seen?”
“Certainly not.” How could a voice she’d prayed so long to hear, infuriate her so? Of course she’d never seen another man’s body. Papa had washed grandfather, and Justin looked different from little Andy’s.
Hands shaking, determined to finish, Faith arrived at the dratted location he indicated, making certain a thick layer of suds covered him. She did a thorough washing, scrubbing around and under parts she yearned to examine at her leisure. She lowered her chin to hide her colour. Examine at her leisure? Really? She scrubbed harder.
“Bloody hell!” Justin pushed her hand away and nearly doubled over cupping himself.
That area was softer than she expected. “Did I hurt them?”
“I wanted to be washed not castrated.”
“Cat’s what?” she asked.
“You mutilated my—”
“Never mind, dolt.” She didn’t want to know what she crushed. She retrieved the washcloth and threw it at his head. “That’s what you get, you disagreeable, bad-tempered….”
He caught her arm as she turned away. “Faith. I was teasing.”
“Knowing full well how uncomfortable I found handling your private parts?”
“I like you handling my private parts.”
Faith pulled from his grip and emptied the wash basin over his no-longer private parts. “Go to the devil, Justin Devereux.”
“Damn it, woman, that’s hot.” He spoiled his rage by chuckling at her ire.
In her room, Faith leaned against her closed door. Chequered with outrageous curses—for her entertainment, she was certain—his amusement sounded wonderful.
Later she returned to find him naked and sound asleep on the dry side of the bed. And for the first time, Faith was able to study him, his wide shoulders, no longer defined by bone, but muscle, the dark hair on his chest that arrowed toward…everything. She should be embarrassed, but she was not, and she could not look away. Even in repose—and she had once seen that particular man part otherwise—Faith thought him splendid.
Her mother had spoken to her of desire as the need for the physical expression of love between two people. But Faith had not really understood…until this moment, when she responded physically, her body reacting of its own volition, to the beauty of his.
Entranced, she stepped closer…and looked into dark knowing eyes, the lines around them blossoming with his smile.
Justin wanted to say, ‘Caught you,’ but she’d catch fire, so red were her cheeks. “I’m cold,” he said, instead, and was thanked with a grateful expression as she covered him.
Then he watched her change the bed linen—the reason for its slogged state and her clandestine examination, sitting heavily between them. He liked the blush that stole up her neck. Not for the first time, he wondered where it began and wanted to ask. But she was distressed enough without him embarrassing her further. Did she sense this attachment between them? A connection forged by care, admiration, and something…more? “Damn it, no!”
Faith looked up. “Cross again? Have I tucked a blanket wrong? I vow, you’d find fault with a fat goose.”
“Sit down, will you. Your fussing makes me dizzy.”
“Fussing is it? You would rather sleep in a wet bed?”
“I expect I have before.”
She regarded her hands with interest. “Not since I arrived.”
“I thank you for that.” He took her hand. “Forgive my fitful disposition. It’s difficult to lie here and be waited upon. I am become a burden, and I had rather be the saviour than the saved.”
Mischief sparked in her emerald eyes as she slipped his nightshirt over his head. “As you would rather be the seducer than the seduced?”
He smiled inwardly and decided to allow her attempt to cheer him. “Seducer? What makes you say that?”
“I hear that you were a rake of the first order.”
“Good God, way out in Arundel? How old were you? Five?”
Her laugh, like cool water sluiced over his fevered body. They’d taken a turn in their relationship. It spoke more of man and woman, less of patient and nurse. And Justin wasn’t certain he liked it. “I left raking behind when I married.” Aye, and his manhood as well. “Pray, where did you hear such tales?”
“Mrs. Tucker.”
“You befriended that harridan? I am impressed. Your talents are endless, it seems. Can you tame a wild beast?”
She looked directly into his eyes. “Not yet.”
“Perhaps, but you have awakened him.”
Her green eyes widened.
“Be prudent with your maidenly innocence, my dear, lest you be ravished for the sport of it.”
“Are maidens more likely to be ravished than matrons?”
“Yes, for maidens are tender and easy to the bit.”
“Like lambs? Tender and tasty to the palate, you mean.”
“Do I?”
Faith turned to tidy the room.
He had learned to measure her by her barometer of blushing agitation. And at this moment, it threatened combustion.
“Harris told me about your way with women. How they flirted outrageously. You were deemed quite the catch, he said.”
“Harris is an old fool.”
Her laugh was easy and melodious, and Justin savoured it. “I have called him such myself,” she said. “But I love him.”
“Foolish child. How can you love someone you hardly know? You throw the word about as if the absurdity exists.”
She straightened, alert, wary. “Does it not, in your opinion?”
He damn near snorted. “It does not.”
“Believe as you wish. But you are more likely to be captured by what catches you unaware, physical or emotional.” She tilted her head. “And I begin to believe love can be both at once.”
Justin chuckled self-derisively. “And I called you a child.” That would teach him to consider this woman dangerous in more ways than the usual. If he allowed it, she might make him believe in fairies and love-potions. Now that he was better, he should send her away, but at the notion, pain struck at his centre, deep and agonizing. “Damn it, Faith! Stop fussing and come rest.”
“You have a decidedly low opinion of my actions. But to humour you, your grace, I shall rest.” She sat in her chair, lay her head back and closed her eyes. “For a moment.”
She was probably more exhausted than he. Sooty circles rimmed her eyes. Her hair hung limp. Damn. She should see to herself, at least as well as she saw to him. “Faith?” God’s teeth, she slept quickly. “Faith, wake up.” He grasped her skirt and tugged. “Blast it, your neck will be sore.”
She jumped. “Are you ill?” She stood so fast, she looked as if she might faint.
He held her hips to steady her, sliding his hands to her waist, learning her shape with his palms. “I wonder how you can care for someone else, when you cannot care for yourself.”
“I have the sense to cosh you. You frightened me senseless. Are you behaving like a bear because you’re hungry as one?”
He curled his fingers into her, stroking her waist ever so slightly. “No, but I may have a thorn in my paw.”
She pursed her lips. “I must conclude then that both paws are injured, for they seem to be seeking ease against my person.”
He surprised himself with his bark of laughter, as much as he apparently surprised her. He gave her waist a squeeze. “I hereby order you to go and rest. I shall call if I need you.”
She stepped from his hold. “Are you ordering me to neglect you so you may discharge me without conscience? Thank you, but no.” Her look changed. “You’re flushed. Do you have a fever?” She placed her hand on his forehead, slid it to his cheek.
He turned his face into her touch, nearly kissing her palm, and noted the danger.
“Stop that,” she said. From her look, you’d think he’d broken her heart with such attention.
“Blast it, Faith. If you don’t lie down beside me, I’ll shout down the house and everyone will know I’m well.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Of course he wouldn’t. “Do as I say, or you will find out.” Stubborn, stubborn woman. “Come; you’ll be here if I need you.”
The set of her jaw told him she didn’t intend to budge.
“Damn it, you have slept beside me before. Hell, you’ve slept entangled with me. Stay above the covers, if you must. I promise on my honour as a—”
“Rake.”
“A gentleman. Have you no trust in me?”
She raised a brow. “You know the meaning of trust then?” He ignored the taunt. “I’m hardly in a position to compromise you.”
She laughed again. “I’m so very compromised now, there is little left over which to worry.”
“There is much over which to worry, make no mistake.” He only wished there were more. Though he had the inclination, his body refused to cooperate. But there was more to life than the sexual, was there not? And there could be pleasure for Faith, at least. He could…oh wicked, dangerous thought.
“I confess, I am tired,” she said.
“Finally, you show a modicum of sense.”
“As usual, you act the hind end of a—”
“Hush. Come to bed.”
Shaking her head, Faith grudgingly climbed onto the opposite side and curled up, facing him “Did you never wonder,” she asked, “Why God made more horses hind ends than he made horses?”
“You’ll get no rest, if you’re annoyed,” he said.
She released a slow breath, and fought her smile. He applauded her attempt. Her thick lashes fluttered against porcelain cheeks.
As Justin closed his own eyes, he wondered if Faith coming to nurse him was a gift, or a curse.
Justin awoke to find Faith’s breast against his hand. He felt her budding nipple, closed his eyes and wished…Damnation. He eased himself away. Distance held safety for them both. He was a man flawed. And married. And Faith Wickham deserved better.
He’d never known a woman like her. Known one? He couldn’t imagine one. No amount of money could induce Catherine to endure what Faith had. He’d seen his suffering reflected in Faith’s eyes. And no matter his yearning, nothing could come of a connection between them. He had ended, he reminded himself, half a man, and that half was married.