Page 101 of The Lord Meets His Lady

“I have a silk gown, something to sell if I needed the coin. But I don’t recall agreeing to go with you.” He’d rolled over her hesitation to get what he wanted.

“Is it a costume?”

“No,” she said, drawing out the word.

“Then you could wear it. At least once. For me.”

She was at ease in many places, but a fine castle? Time with elegant Elise Sauveterre had taught her a thing or two about a lady’s conduct, but for all her improvements, her manners had a coarse edge. An event at the baron’s castle would be as unpleasant as wearing a shoe one size too small. She could endure for an evening, but it’d be painful.

The corner of Lord Bowles’s mouth curled. “Consider it a second boon for your husband. A small thing… You put on a pretty gown, spend a few hours with me in the company of others, and before you know it, you’re tucked in bed.”

“It’s not about putting on the gown.” She locked her fingers at her knees. “It’s about putting on airs…beingLadyBowles. I’m not comfortable with it.”

His hazel eyes pinned her. “Are you comfortable being with me?”

Her breath caught. He’d nabbed her with his simple question. This was about the two of them together, and the rest of the world could hang. That was what made being with Marcus so thrilling. She could almost taste perfection.

“Don’t forget we’re doing this to save the horses,” he said, his smile full of boyish charm. “Think of sweet Hester.”

Oh, he knew how to go for the jugular. “It would be nice to wear a pretty silk gown.”

“That’s the spirit.” He splashed water on his face, a frown forming. “This gown of yours. It’s not from the Prussian, is it?”

“No. It was a gift from a merchant to my mother. She asked me not to sell it. She believed she’d get better and wear it again someday.”

“And you were too kindhearted to tell her otherwise.”

He’d done it again. Lord Bowles had shined light on an unsavory spot and made it better. Her convenient husband had a most inconvenient way of being thoughtful just when she’d painted him a wastrel. These gentle surprises fed her growing affection for him. Despite her youth, she was wise enough to know emotions and sex made a dangerous elixir. Many young women at the Golden Goose fell in love with men beyond their reach, and highborn Lord Bowles was far from her grasp.

“Well,” she said, pushing off the stool. “I ought to let you finish your bath.”

He rolled the soap between his hands. “What about your intriguing proposition? The one where we enjoy each other’s…companionship.”

Her foot toed the stool to the wall. “Oh, we will, milord. In the company of Baron Atal and his guests.”

“Ruined my chances, have I?”

“I need to make the gown presentable. There’s mending to be done.”

“But there is later.”

She smiled coyly, half in the doorway, half out. “Perhaps.”

“I’ve heard it will be all men save the baron’s sister,” Marcus said, washing his arm. “Atal likes hosting these gatherings. Spares the men from matchmaking mothers.”

“I promise I won’t embarrass you, if that’s your concern.”

“You’ll do fine. It’s the men who concern me. They might be a little coarse,” he said, pushing up on his knees, searching the hooks behind him. “Where’s the sheet? To dry myself off.”

Back muscles rippled under skin rarely touched by the sun. A thin, jagged scar slanted across his ribs, but the V of his back and the play of sinew and flesh entranced her.

“Sheet?”

“Yes. A sheet,” he repeated. “A long stretch of cloth with which to dry myself.”

She leaned a casual hip against the doorframe, a sprite of playfulness growing inside her. “Yes. I’ve heard of those. But we don’t have any.”

Long-fingered hands gripped the tub’s rim. Water dripped down the black horse tattoo. Lord Bowles swiveled forward on his knees, wetness flattening dark hairs trailing his body’s midline. The dark thatch of hair between his legs broke the water’s surface. When she looked up, his hazel eyes sparked.