Page 29 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

Leo nodded gravely. “I’ll take it. Now, come and wash my back, if you please.”

Vi took a deep breath, gathered the towel around her, and went back to kneel beside the tub.

“Good evening, Miss Spencer,” he said, his tone formal as she settled beside the bath.

“Good evening, Mr Hunt,” she replied in kind, though it was silly, but she was enjoying herself, enjoying his company and the realisation that she could be silly and playful with him because Leo could be silly and playful and would not think her odd or childish.

“Here,” he said, handing her the soap. “I shall smell as sweet as a rose, though I might get some odd looks in the taproom,” he added with a grin.

Vi took the soap, lathering it between her hands as she gazed at the expanse of broad back before her. He was tanned, she realised, and wondered at that.

“Where have you been with no shirt on?”

He glanced back at her and smiled. “I’ve a little sailing boat on the East Sussex coast. It can get dreadfully hot, so sometimes I strip off. Are you dreadfully shocked?” he teased.

“Dreadfully,” Vi replied serenely, picturing him on the boat, hosting sails and the like with no difficulty at all. She smiled until she considered all the ways things could go wrong, and her heart pounded hectically. He might get caught in a storm, might fall overboard, might—stop it. He was sitting in a few inches of water in a tub in Cambridgeshire, he was not about to drown before her eyes.

“Everything all right back there?”

She glanced up, blue eyes meeting hers as she realised she was sitting with the soap in her hands, staring into space. Vi shook herself and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Hurriedly, she put her hands upon his back, but she did so without thinking, without giving herself time to prepare. She sucked in a breath at the feel of his warm flesh under her touch.

Leo seemed startled too, his breath catching as her palms glided over his wet skin. He moved, leaning forward, and Vi felt the shift of powerful muscles beneath her hands. Lord, but he was strong. Such a vigorous, strong body. Heat simmered beneath her skin as she fought to keep her breathing even and concentrate on washing his back. She followed the line of his spine down to the crease of his behind before losing her nerve and sliding her hand back up to his shoulders. Instead, she washed the back of his neck, aware of his damp hair curling and tickling her fingers. Wishing she could linger but aware every inch of his back had been thoroughly soaped, she scooped up the water and washed the bubbles away.

“There,” she said, a trifle unsteadily. “All done.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, their gazes locking. Vi melted under the heat of that look, unable to deny that she saw desire in his eyes, need. It gave her courage, knowing that he wanted her, that she was not alone in wanting to touch, to caress, to be held. So she leaned in, slowly, hoping she would not make a fool of herself as their lips drew closer and closer and…

There was a sharp knock on the door.

“Mr Huntington, sir? Beg pardon, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Reverend Harbottle is downstairs. He says he has news about something that might interest you.”

Leo cursed but then his eyes widened as he heard who was waiting for them.

“Oh, Leo! It must be about Mau!” Vi said, regretting the interruption, but hoping it was good news.

“I’ll be down directly,” Leo called back, and stood up, water sluicing from his body as he rose like Neptune, all glistening skin and fascinating proportions.

Vi squeaked in surprise, but found she could not look away, not if her life depended on it. Heavens, but he was beautiful. Thankfully, Leo was too intent on getting dry and dressed to notice her open-mouthed gawking at him, and by the time he had pulled on his trousers, she was relatively in control of herself.

“Damned unfortunate interruption,” he said ruefully, smiling at her. “But Mau—”

“Of course, you must go at once,” Vi urged, knowing how worried he was about his cat. “I can’t, for I have no clothes, so hurry back and tell me as soon as you can.”

“I will,” Leo promised, pulling on his shirt and fighting with it as the fabric clung to his damp skin.

“Not like that! Oh, do hold still,” Vi scolded, hurrying over. With deft little tugs, she settled the shirt properly and reached for his waistcoat, helping him into it and doing up the buttons.

“This is nice,” he said softly, gazing down at her.

Vi smiled but said nothing. It was nice, and the sort of intimate, domestic thing she could do for him if she were his wife, but it was best not to think about that. Just one night, she reminded herself. His coat came next and soon he was dressed decently, if not neatly, and hurried to the door.

“Won’t be long,” he promised her, and rushed out.

Vi nodded and then sat down on the bed. Her heart was still careering about in her chest in a peculiar fashion, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Just one night, her mind repeated, and she wished she did not feel so very much like weeping.