The Wallflower Wager - Tessa Dare Page 0,67
tap and water flowed into the tub—clear, plentiful, and steaming hot.
“That’s more like it,” he muttered.
“Hot running water?” She stretched her arm into the bath and swirled the water with her fingertips. “I hereby retract all my complaints about construction noise. This is a miracle.”
“It certainly took an act of God to achieve.”
He turned the other tap, adding cold water to balance the hot. Then he reached for a vial of attar roses and added a few drops to the bath. The room filled with fragrant steam.
“There are towels.” He indicated a stack of immaculate white flannel towels, folded in perfect squares. “Soap is there, by the basin. I’ll be seeing to a few things downstairs, but you’ve only to ring if you need anything and I’ll come at once.”
“Wait.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair. “Help me with the hooks, if you would?”
He undid the fastenings carefully and loosened the tapes of her corset, as well. His manner wasn’t seductive, merely gentle.
“I’ll hang a dressing gown on the hook outside the door,” he said. “Take as long as you like.”
Once he’d gone, Penny slid her arms free of her frock, untied her corset and petticoats, and unbuttoned her chemise. She pushed the layers of fabric down over her hips, shedding them all at once, like a skin. The tile was cold beneath her bare feet, but when she lowered herself into the deep tub, the heat enveloped her.
Heaven.
The bathwater wrapped around her like a hug. One that embraced every part of her equally. A hand, a knee, a breast, an earlobe—the water didn’t distinguish between them. She submerged herself to the crown of her head and let the warmth flow over and around her.
The water had gone almost cold before she could bring herself to leave the bath. After drying herself with soft towels, she slipped into the comically enormous dressing gown he’d left her. She could have fit in one sleeve. The embroidered silk hem trailed behind her as she walked to the bed.
She must have fallen asleep the moment her head touched the pillow, because when Penny next opened her eyes, the windows revealed full darkness outside, and there was a toasty fire glowing in the fireplace. Across the room, Gabriel sat at an escritoire, poring over papers by the light of a single candle sconce.
When she rolled over and stretched, he lifted his head. “If it isn’t Goldilocks. I hope this means the bed was just right.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you were able to sleep, that’s all.”
“So am I. Thank you.” She came back to herself with a start. “Bixby. George. Marigold. Ang—”
“I’ve seen to them,” he assured her. “All of them.”
“Really? But how did you know what to do?”
He sifted through his stack of papers and withdrew a thick envelope that looked familiar. “A few weeks past, someone was good enough to write out instructions in ridiculous detail.”
She smiled and hugged her knees to her chest.
At her feet, a fold of the bed linens wriggled. A wet black nose appeared, followed by a whiskered snout.
“Bixby!” She reached for the dog and pulled him into her arms for cuddles and kisses. The pup was beside himself, turning in circles and licking her everywhere he could reach. “Oh, darling. Look at you. How did you end up here?”
Gabriel crossed the room to stand at the bedside. “I knew you needed an animal in your bed. And I didn’t think it should be me tonight.”
“There’s room for another.”
He joined her on the bed. Bixby nosed his hand, and he ruffled the dog’s fur. They’d made friends, apparently.
Penny’s heart swelled. “You,” she said, “are the best man in the world.”
He chuckled. “That is most definitely not the case.”
“But it is.” She smoothed the terrier’s brown coat. “The night I found Bixby in the back alley, he was quivering and underfed, dragging his hind legs behind him. They’d been crushed by a cartwheel, or perhaps a horse’s hoof. The veterinary surgeon came. He amputated the unsalvageable bits and set what remained with splints, but he gave him poor odds to survive the night. Don’t name him, he warned me. It will only be harder when he dies.”
She smiled and spoke to the pup in her arms. “But his warning was too late, wasn’t it? You were already Bixby, and we both knew you had the heart and determination to survive. Two years later, and you’re chasing squirrels across the green like the terror you were born to