Page 24 of Juliet's Touch

Before Emily had a chance to hold up a fourth finger, or Juliet had an opportunity to deny or confirm the accusation, her brother-in-law peeked into the hallway.

“Kitten, can I assist with anything?” the younger Alexander asked, his voice gentle.

Shame washed over Juliet as she stared at her mud-caked boots.

“No, darling,” Emily said. “But thank you for checking on us.” She grasped Juliet’s elbow and escorted her back the way they had come. “Later,” she whispered in Juliet’s ear.

When they entered the dining room, Lord Chesterhill smiled as if nothing was amiss. The sincere gesture calmed Juliet’s nerves. Feeling more at ease, she sat in the gilded chair across from Emily. Instantly, a plate of roast beef, carrots, and perfectly cut potatoes was placed in front of her, and her glass was filled with amber brandy.

“Juliet, how are your parents?” the marquess asked as if she hadn’t just arrived unannounced, half-dressed, and filthy.

More than likely, they were distraught she was missing, but that was no reason for Juliet not to ensconce herself in practiced etiquette. “They are well, my lord. My father has been spending time at White’s, and my mother enjoys attending the Garden Society tea parties.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” the marquess said. “I hope they visit soon. I’d enjoy the company of an old friend.”

“I am sure they would love that,” Juliet said. At least Father would love it. Mother would fret about how unpleasant Lady Chesterhill had been on their last visit. Although with the marchioness gone, Mother might want to see Emily.

On second thought… Juliet stifled her moan. Once her parents discovered she was missing, they would descend upon Chesterhill Manor, and it would not be for a pleasant social call. Oh, no. They’d drag Juliet home by her ear and force her to marry a cowardly man who had pushed her into the path of danger moments before a heroic stranger kissed her.

Chesterhill Manor boasted a guest bathing chamber fit for a queen. Colorful porcelain tiles adorned the walls, floor, and built-in seating. A massive marble tub, capable of comfortably accommodating three people, sat in the center of the room. Flickering flames in strategically placed sconces cast a dreamy glow over the chamber. There was even one of the newfangled showers that was so tall, it towered over Juliet.

Under Emily’s supervision, a half dozen footmen filled the tub with hot water, and Esther, one of the maids, delivered a variety of soaps and fresh towels.

“Enjoy yourself,” Emily said. She unfastened Juliet’s dress that she’d clasped less than two hours ago. “I shall meet you in your chamber when you are finished.”

Once she was alone, Juliet stripped down and dipped her toes into the warm water. She hadn’t realized how chilled her blood was until now. Craving heat, she immersed everything but her head, neck, and shoulders under water.

While luxuriating in the tub, Juliet scrubbed the filth of the day from her body and then soaked until all the stress left her muscles. The scent of exotic spiced soap whirled around her. She breathed it in, leaned her neck on the tub’s rim, and closed her eyes.

This was heaven. Maybe she could stay with Emily forever. Although if she didn’t return to London, she might never see those soulful brown eyes again. It also meant she wouldn’t have a second chance to kiss him, which would be a travesty since his lips were soft. They were also firm and masculine. By God, the man had a perfect mouth.

Juliet brushed her index finger over her lips, and they instinctively puckered. What the dickens. Since when did her own touch make her prepare for a kiss? Was it the rising steam? The decadent scent? Her relaxed muscles? Memories of her masked hero? Perhaps all the above? If so, this raised a criticalquestion that required an immediate answer. Was her entire body highly sensitive right now?

Curiosity getting the better of her, she dragged her fingertip across her cheek and along her jaw. Rather soothing, she decided. Exhaling, she trailed a wavy line downward, over her breast, pausing at her nipple.

Dare she?

Why not? She was a grown woman who was still a virgin, for heaven’s sake. Fondling herself had always felt so wrong. Dirty and depraved. Over the years, she had secretly touched her feminine bits a few times, not particularly enjoying the odd sensations. However, today, right this second, the tingling in her torso and core was exceedingly pleasant.

Her nipples pebbled beneath the gentle circles she traced. Sighing, she trailed her fingers lower, tapping them over her belly. There, she halted, frozen in place. Gnawing on her lip, she searched for the courage to continue exploring.

“’Tis not so terribly sinful,” she whispered. This was her God-given body, and she could do whatever she wanted with it in private.

Still, her hand didn’t move. She opened her eyes and peered into the water at the golden curls between her thighs. She spread her legs wider, studying the view. Water sluiced over her folds.How exquisite! She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and gave in to the desire to picturehim.

Brown irises staring at her. Thick lashes fluttering. His lips on hers. Kissing. Tasting.

She slipped a finger into her folds. Although pleasant, she needed more friction. Sliding her hips forward, she parted her thighs wider and added another finger.Yes.This was better. Her tight circles turned to piercing thrusts. Her hips bucked, and she moaned indecently.

Something clicked.

Juliet opened her eyes and bolted upright.

Esther peeked in at her. “Miss, I heard you cry out. Did you hurt yourself?”

Drat!How loud had she been? Juliet’s cheeks burned. “No. I’m fine,” she squawked like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit tin.

“Oh, good,” Esther said. “Should I help you dry yourself?”