Oblivious to her scrutiny, Ashdowne laid the garment carefully upon a step, then sat down and began to take off his boots. Swamped by a sudden wave of dizziness, Georgiana sank down beside him. For some reason, her legs were threatening to give out.
She was too close to Ashdowne, Georgiana realized, scooting away slightly. And although she tried not to look, his movements were so interesting that she could not help herself. His shirt must be black, for his face, shadowed and intent, was the only part of him touched by the lantern’s faint glow. Even his stockings must be black, Georgiana noted as her gaze dropped lower. She told herself that there was nothing shocking about seeing them, yet the ritual bespoke an intimacy that set her insides to wobbling.
Deliberately Georgiana turned her face away, but she could hear the low thump of his other boot and then a rustle. Oh, my, was he removing his stockings? Georgiana glanced furtively downward and got a glimpse of a bare, arched foot. All thoughts of her purpose here fled as she was struck by the most peculiar desire to reach out and touch Ashdowne.
Georgiana made a small strangled sound, which he didn’t appear to notice, thankfully, for he stood, rising tall above where she sat upon the step. “I want you to stay here,” he said, and she nodded dazedly. Resting her chin in one palm, she simply stared at him as he stepped into the pool, the dark water rising to cover his ankles, his lower limbs, his thighs and higher…
Suddenly Georgiana wished for more light as she discovered a heretofore unknown fascination with Ashdowne’s backside. Never before had she looked at a man’s behind, but now she felt bereft when Ashdowne’s disappeared into the pool. Once he began moving farther away, she felt better, staring at the image of him that nearly disappeared into the blackness. Where was he going? She stood and stepped down one slippery stair.
“I believe it is more to your left,” she said, lifting her arm to point toward where she thought the book was hidden.
“Georgiana,” Ashdowne muttered in a harsh manner that was entirely uncalled for, in her opinion. “I told you to stay where you are,” he commanded. Although she could not really see him out there in the darkness, Georgiana took umbrage at his tone.
“I am simply trying to direct you,” she returned with a frown.
“Well, don’t. Sit down on the step and stay there.” This time there was no mistaking the threat in his words, and Georgiana bristled at the thought of him ordering her about.
“I must remind you, Ashdowne, that you are the assistant here, and I am the investigator,” she said.
“You are also the one most prone to producing calamity. Now, hush, and don’t move!”
Georgiana did not accede well to arbitrary commands, especially when issued by an arrogant male who had no right to mandate her actions, and so she stepped forward. “Now, see here, Ashdowne,” she began, then faltered as her slipper struck something.
With sickening dread, Georgiana heard one of the marquis’s boots roll off the step onto another. And another. Botheration! Did it have to be so dark in here? He should have brought a real lantern, not that minuscule light, and anyway, wasn’t it just like a man to leave his effects scattered about in everyone’s way? But before the dratted thing could tumble all the way to the pool, Georgiana hurried downward, grabbing wildly at nothing except air, until she heard the dull plop of something striking the water.
“What was that?” Ashdowne asked.
“Nothing,” Georgiana murmured as she approached the water. Would the boot sink? Blinking, she thought she could make out the once-fine leather floating near the edge of the pool. Now, if she could just inch forward and reach it…Georgiana knelt beside the bath and bent over only to see the lump bob out of reach. Scooting closer, she leaned and stretched, but the movement was too extreme.
For a long moment, she wavered off balance, knowing a rueful regret that she had not listened to Ashdowne, before she fell, headfirst, into the warm waters.
Chapter Nine
At first Georgiana was disoriented by the dark liquid and dragged down by the weight of her gown, then her toe struck bottom, and she managed to right herself, planting her feet solidly. She had just begun to rise above the water, spitting and blowing, when a pair of hands closed around her waist.
“Damn it, Georgiana! I told you to stay put!” Ashdowne’s anger was unmistakable, his shadowed features intense even in the moonlight. She tried to explain, to sputter a protest, but he was too close. And he was wet.
Dragging in a breath, Georgiana felt her insides wobble like jelly as she took in the dark hair dripping water onto his broad shoulders. He must have swum to her in his haste, she thought dimly, as her gaze followed one drop down his throat to his chest, where his dark shirt clung to wide muscles. Her heart started thumping in a most outrageous manner, and her lips parted, seeking more air, for the moist darkness seemed suddenly close and stifling.
“Are you all right?” Ashdowne asked, and Georgiana forced her attention back to his face. She had a full minute to stare into his glittering eyes, during which his alarm turned into something else entirely. He once more looked upon her as though she were, if not a bug, at least something he was likely to devour. Georgiana had time to draw in another breath before he pulled her to him, his mouth descending on hers with a violence she had never imagined.
And then she lost herself there in the darkness, the warmth of the water palling against the heat of Ashdowne’s body and his hands, steaming through her clothes where he touched her. His palms slid up and down her back and then tugged at her shoulders, and before she knew what he was about, her gown was down at her waist, her breasts pressed against the solid wall of his chest.
And then he touched them. With a low cry, Georgiana arched backward as his fingers explored each curve of her skin. Slick with moisture, they slid over her flesh, drenching her in sensation she thought was incomparable until his lips settled there, his tongue rasping against her nipples, his mouth covering her to suckle one and then the other.
Wild feelings shot through her, from her breasts to every part of her, settling most fiercely at the juncture of her thighs, and Georgiana wriggled helplessly in an effort to ease the heaviness there. Finally she felt her legs parted by the firm thrust of Ashdowne’s hard thigh. It pressed right against the spot that so inflamed her, and she nearly wept with relief. Dear Ashdowne, he knew exactly what to do!
“Ashdowne,” she whispered, clutching at his back as her equilibrium faltered. His shirt had come loose, and Georgiana slipped her hands beneath to boldly stroke his skin, smooth and firm and wet. There was something about the water that heightened her senses, Georgiana realized. It was her last coherent thought before her brain surrendered to the rest of her, giving up its dominion gladly.
“Ashdowne,” she whispered again. She felt the wall at her back, heard the low lap of the water and saw the twinkle of stars overhead before he took her mouth once more. Her arms went around his neck, holding him close, as his thigh grazed her. The sensations that slight movement engendered were beyond her comprehension, but Georgiana embraced them, unable to stop, unable to do anything but moan and cry out, bereft, when he shifted.
Murmuring low words of comfort, Ashdowne lifted her higher, pushed her skirts up and stepped between her thighs, so that her most private part was bared beneath the water. But before she could utter an embarrassed protest, he pressed against her. Instead of his leg, she felt the front of his trousers, only that thin layer of material separating her nakedness from the hard, powerful bulge there.
It was beyond anything Georgiana could ever have imagined, and for once, she couldn’t get too close to Ashdowne. She wiggled, seeking some kind of surcease from the feelings building inside her as his body rubbed against her in a primitive rhythm that left her gasping, wanting, needing…until the darkness and the water and Ashdowne enveloped her in a driving heat that peaked as she cried out, drowning in incredible pleasure.
Georgiana would have sunk down into the luxurious embrace of the pool, her legs
no more substantial than the night breeze, were it not for Ashdowne’s firm hold upon her. He thrust against her, harder, with a fierceness Georgiana had not known he possessed. Then his ragged groan echoed in the silence as he shuddered, his tall body shaking as if with the force of her own exultation. Had he known similar bliss?
“Oh, Ashdowne,” Georgiana murmured against his throat, too wobbly to do or say anything more complex. And in the utter stillness the only sound was of their own rapid breaths, slowly returning to normal. But would she ever be normal again after what had transpired? Georgiana wondered as she gradually returned to her senses. What miracle had Ashdowne worked upon her? What magic was this that only he could conjure?
Finally he lifted his head, and Georgiana tilted back her own to meet his gaze. He looked slumberous and satisfied, but the wry, rueful curve to his lips confused her. She opened her mouth to speak, or perhaps simply kiss him again, with a more leisurely ardor, when a noise echoed in the silence.
The door.
Georgiana stiffened as Ashdowne’s hand came over her lips, and he pulled her deeper, dragging them low until only their faces lingered above the water, his body tense against her. She looked, wide-eyed, toward the steps, where the lamp she had been bidden to guard sat pointedly spreading its dim glow over the edge of the pool.
“Milord?”
Georgiana felt Ashdowne relax and let her own muscles ease their cramped vigil as she recognized Finn’s voice. Although she expected the marquis to rise, he did not, but remained where he was, holding her tightly beneath the water. And it was truly not until that moment that Georgiana realized her skirts were floating high, while her upper garments were somewhere about her waist. She made a mortified sound that was muffled by Ashdowne’s fingers.
“What is it?” he called to Finn.
“You’ve been in here a good while, milord, and I thought I heard a shriek. I was worried that something had gone amiss, but I see that I must have been mistaken. So, you just take your time and pardon the interruption, if you will,” he said, his voice gravelly with amusement.
“We’ve had trouble finding what we came for, but we won’t be long now,” Ashdowne assured his servant. Not until the door closed once more did Ashdowne release her. Pulling her gently to her feet, he tugged at her bodice and soon had everything righted in a most competent fashion while Georgiana blinked at him dazedly.
She was still standing there, looking foolish, when he turned and strode toward the fallen stone, easily retrieving the book, while Georgiana could only stare at it in surprise. Was that why they had come? For the book? In the exotic enchantment of Ashdowne’s embrace, she had forgotten everything, and still her mind was so slow in functioning that he had to take her hand and urge her forward to where their lantern glowed like a tiny beacon in the darkness.
“Hmm. What’s this?” he said, and Georgiana, who could not remember blushing during their deepest intimacy, now did so as he slowly lifted his once-shiny, expensive boot from the water to drip rather dramatically. Luckily Ashdowne could not see her flush in the darkness.
“It looks like a boot,” she said rather unnecessarily.
“Ah. And a familiar one at that,” Ashdowne added, shooting her a wry glance that she refused to acknowledge as they rose out of the water. The soggy leather fell onto the step with a squish, and Georgiana knew she could put off her reckoning no longer.
“I, uh—” she began, turning to face him.
“Never mind. I won’t decry the loss of one boot when…” Ashdowne’s words trailed off as he reached up to stroke her cheek with a wet finger. Georgiana closed her eyes and shivered. “It was for a good cause,” he said in a low voice that made her legs weak and her wits wander. “But it’s growing late, and I must take you home before you catch a chill.”
The possibility seemed absurd when Ashdowne’s very presence filled her with heat, but Georgiana nodded dazedly, and he stepped away. “Wring out your gown as best you can, and then we’ll have a look at the book.”
The book! Georgiana straightened abruptly, her errant thoughts returning immediately to the evidence at hand. The euphoria that Ashdowne’s touch induced changed into a different sort of thrill altogether—the excitement of the case. Although she wanted to reach for the volume at once, she dutifully pulled up her skirts and twisted them until the worst of the water was out, while Ashdowne donned his boots and coat. Of course, her gown was ruined, but since it was a beribboned lavender one of her mother’s choosing, she spared little thought for it.
Her thoughts were all upon the book, and her hands trembled in expectation when she finally turned toward Ashdowne. Despite his dousing, he managed to look just as handsome and elegant as ever when he presented it to her, and Georgiana was seized by a sudden feeling for him that went far beyond his appearance. He could have inspected the prize himself, but instead he let her do the honors, and the gesture made her stomach dip, as well as something else, higher up in her chest.
Drying her hands upon her cloak, Georgiana reached out to take the vicar’s tome. She opened it with extreme care, but to her disappointment, no hidden compartment revealed the necklace. Instead, she looked down upon a drawing of some sort. Georgiana leaned closer and realized that it was a picture of a man and a woman, both totally devoid of clothing.
“But this is not important at all!” she protested.
“That depends upon your point of view, I would imagine,” Ashdowne said dryly.
With a sound of frustration, Georgiana held up the volume by its spine and shook it, yet no jewels fell out. Then she began leafing through the pages, but they all turned freely. There was no hidden compartment, only more pictures. Unable to believe her eyes, Georgiana let the book fall open and stared at it in dismay, her gaze riveted by a drawing in which a man intimately held a woman in the air, her legs wrapped around his waist. Turning the book this way and that, Georgiana blinked.
“Is that possible?” she asked.
Ashdowne cleared his throat. “Yes. Certainly,” he said softly. And suddenly she realized that what looked so astonishing was not that different from what she had been doing only moments ago. If she had but lifted her legs and…Georgiana drew in a sharp breath at the memory of that incredible pleasure.
Abruptly she turned the page only to see the same sort of intimate activity, although this time the man was positioned behind the woman. “Oh, my,” Georgiana whispered. The baths once more felt close and stifling as she became increasingly aware of Ashdowne’s presence at her back, looking over her shoulder. How would she feel if he stepped closer, pressing himself against her? She stifled a groan and turned the page.
Here, the woman knelt before the man, her mouth enclosed about a certain engorged part of his body, and, caught between startlement and curiosity, Georgiana nearly dropped the evidence completely. Her face flamed as she remembered that part of Ashdowne’s body rubbing against hers. How would he react if she dropped to her knees and…the moist warmth of the baths pressed down on her, robbing her breath, and she shut the book with a loud thump.
In the ensuing silence, the heat inside her dissipated, replaced by a wave of disappointment. She had been right in that the book was no Bible, yet neither was it a secret hiding place for the stolen necklace. “But I don’t understand,” Georgiana muttered in frustration. “Why would he carry this about with him in the baths?”
“I suspect you were correct to begin with, that Mr. Hawkins is not partaking of the waters for his health, but for the titillation of seeing ladies in wet clothing. Beneath the surface, the…uh, evidence of the direction of his thoughts would not be visible.”
Georgiana blinked as she realized just what sort of evidence Ashdowne was talking about, and she made a sound of distress at the thought of their suspect walking about in such a state.
“Yes. Let’s hope that’s all he does in there,” Ashdowne muttered. “Or the idea of climbing into that odoriferous water becomes infinitely unappealing, my own, uh, lapse, notwithstanding.
”
Although Georgiana didn’t quite understand what Ashdowne was saying, certain words resonated loudly in her mind, most especially “unappealing” and “lapse.” She drew herself up to her full height and turned to face him, focusing firmly on his throat. But with the absence of his neck cloth, she was able to see the muscles in the strong column, a definite deterrent to her concentration. “I regret, uh, putting you to all that trouble in the bath,” she murmured.
“I would hardly call it trouble,” Ashdowne said, reaching out to take her hands and draw her closer. “You, Miss Georgiana Bellewether, are an utter delight, and being with you is always a…pleasure.” His voice deepened on the last word, and Georgiana blushed to the roots of her hair. Grateful that he could not see, she felt the slow, languid sweep of his lure engulfing her, and she deliberately looked away.
She wondered just how far her assistant might take this flirtation between them. The pictures in the book had both alarmed and excited her, and being of a curious nature, naturally she was interested in human experience in all of its forms. However, she knew that society as a whole, and her mother in particular, would not approve of that sort of fact-finding.
She pulled her hands away and stared down at her sodden slippers. “About that, uh, pleasure…” Her words trailed off, lost in the confusion of Ashdowne’s nearness.
“I’m sorry, Georgiana,” he said, lifting a hand to brush her cheek. And despite all her fine resolve, she turned toward his touch like a flower to the light. “I never meant for things to go that far, although my only regret this evening is that you didn’t find what you were looking for, or did you?”
Georgiana was uncertain of his meaning. Sometimes the man talked in riddles, and how could she concentrate on anything when he was looming over her? She moved back, farther away from him, and tried to concentrate. “I might remind you that you were to keep your mind upon business, not that…other,” she said rather stiffly.
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