I could manage it. You are far too . . . large.”
He gave her a naughty wink. “Said the girl to the soldier. Thank you, madam.”
“Oh! I was referring to your height, you wretched man.”
He was still large, even in repose. From a purely artistic standpoint, Reynold Durant was exquisitely sculpted.
“So, tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help.”
“There’s nothing wrong. I was just breathing. Did you find my slippers? I could not find them in the dark last night.”
“Ah, yes. I should have told you and saved you some worry. I hid them in my saddlebag. None of the servants will be the wiser. I should tell you, I’m not used to such coddling. A veritable parade of footmen and maids came in this morning with breakfast and oceans of hot water and fresh sheets. I’ll be spoiled before this is over. Ruined for my humdrum life.”
Maris was afraid he was ruining her too. She disentangled herself from his arms and felt her hairpins slip down her back as she sat up. “Bother.”
Reyn caught a curl as it tumbled from her brow. “You have lovely hair.”
“It’s nothing special, just brown.”
“It’s soft. And smells like roses.” He tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She would have to remember to bring up a brush and comb to the attics so she could make herself presentable after their interludes. Maris supposed some disorder was inevitable moving and unpacking boxes, but she suspected her recent activities would be plain to anyone who had two eyes.
She felt hot.
She felt happy.
“You’d better help me dress. It must be time for luncheon.” She swung her feet to the chilly floor and reached for her chemise. “You can ring for something to eat from your room. I’ll meet you back up here in two hours so we can work a little while longer before we finish for the day. The light won’t hold forever.” She pulled the chemise over her head and struggled with the buttons.
Reyn noticed, then took over the job. Somehow he got his own large hands to behave over the tiny bits of bone and fabric far better than she. “Will you be joining the earl?”
“Oh, no. He takes a tray in the library so he can write and read and eat. He’s very devoted to his work.” She had better luck with the strings of her front-lacing corset and the petticoat tapes.
“That must be lonely for you.”
“Well, that’s one reason I’ve helped him all these years, otherwise I’d never get to see him,” Maris admitted. It had been a grand adventure accompanying him to digs, but organizing and writing about their discoveries was much less stimulating.
“Why can’t we follow suit and have some food sent up here?” Reyn asked.
“I’ve told the servants not to disturb us, and I don’t want to take the chance they’ll find out what’s going on. Look at me!”
“I am. And I quite like what I see.”
Maris waved him away. “You needn’t stoop to flattery. My hair is a nest.”
“Let me fix it for you. Put your dress on and let me get to work as your maid.”
She really didn’t have much choice. There was no mirror except a shattered one in a fine gilt frame three rooms over. Another thing to tote upstairs with a brush and comb.
Reyn gathered up the fallen pins amongst the pillows and made her sit at the worktable. And then he did an extraordinary thing. He rubbed her head, slipping firm fingers through her loose hair, pressing onto her scalp in hypnotic motion. For a minute Maris wondered if he might make even more of a tangle of her hair, but the head massage was so wonderful she held her tongue. The tension she felt now that she was no longer prone in his arms disappeared and she felt the coiled springs along her spine relax.
He seemed to know it, dropping a light kiss below her left ear. Then he got busy braiding and pinning.
“It is with the greatest reluctance that I’m giving you this abomination,” Reyn said, handing her the cap. “Why do women wear such things? You can’t imagine men like them. You might as well be wearing a nappy on your head.”
Maris shrugged as she tied it under her chin. She wasn’t sure why caps were the custom. Perhaps that was something she could research in the future. There were biblical admonitions to cover one’s head, and Maris supposed fashion could stem from fear of God as