Page 89 of Gone with the Rake

But could he have, really?

Perhaps he should have left her alone.

Would that have been better? Not for him. He was better for having known her. But would her life have been better without him?

Would her mother still be alive?

He wished he could wave away these thoughts, but her visceral reaction to reentering this house made one thing clear—their past would always be between them.

When the bath was finally ready and the servants had gone, having set out towels, soap, and a sponge, Lydia was no longer trembling.

Her breathing had evened, and he briefly wondered if she had fallen asleep.

“My love?” he murmured into her hair.

“Mm?” She didn’t lift her head.

“Come. Let’s get you into the bath. It will help relax your muscles.”

They stood, and Thorn kept his arms around her for a moment, making sure she wouldn’t fall.

“Do you want me to help you undress?” he asked, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

She met his gaze. “No. I can manage on my own.”

He nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

She shook her head vehemently, her body beginning to tremble again.

Thorn didn’t want to distress her any more than she already was. He kissed her swiftly on the lips. “I won’t leave.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, her tremors subsiding. He had never seen her so scared before.

She turned away and began discarding her clothing. Thorn walked to the other side of the room, giving her privacy. His eyes landed on the bookshelf, and an idea took shape.

He picked up a book, leafing through it, a small smile forming as memories surfaced—memories of reading to her when they had first fallen in love.

Behind him, he heard a soft splash as she stepped into the bath.

He turned toward her. “Would you like me to call for the maids to help you bathe?”

She shook her head and splashed water onto her face. “No, I don’t require help.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Perhaps you’d rather I help you?”

She looked up at him shyly through her wet eyelashes and shook her head again.

She was nearly submerged, droplets clinging to her arms, neck, and face. She looked gorgeous like that.

She looked gorgeous always, Thorn realized.

She picked up the sponge and raised her eyes to him, looking vulnerable.

He had seen her naked before. They had shared moments that should have removed any timidity between them.

But still, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

Instead, he let the book slip from his fingers onto the floor and shrugged off his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. Rolling up his sleeves, he lowered himself beside the bath.