“I’m glad you were there,” he quietly rumbled, accepting her help.
They stopped at the bed. She wasn’t going to watch him remove the silk that hid most of his body from view. She wouldn’t. She—
He tugged her close, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
Not trusting her voice or herself, she nodded and scurried to the sofa, blowing out candles as she went.
* * *
Ashley’s stomach fluttered as a sense of dread filled her. She had double and triple checked all the preparations until she was sure Maggie and Sally were rolling their eyes at her behind her back. David had shaved while she went downstairs to eat with her uncle and aunt, and now he sat at her dressing table, tying the garters on his stockings, wearing nothing else but drawers and the bandage on his arm.
As soon as he finished, she led him to her dressing room.
“You’re going to be my valet?” He stroked one fingertip down her cheek.
Ashley already held his shirt bunched up in her hands, ready to slip it over his head, trying not to stare at his neck where he’d missed shaving a spot below his ear. His cravat should conceal it. “You need to conserve your energy.” And she certainly wasn’t going to delegate this task to Sally or Maggie.
While he buttoned his cuffs and collar, she shook out the trousers Sally had ironed earlier. He stepped into them so quickly she didn’t have a chance to turn her back … had she been inclined to do so … and didn’t look away even while he tucked in his shirt and buttoned his trousers. Feeling especially bold, she helped him tuck it in on the right side when he hesitated to use his arm. Just a few days ago she’d stripped his clothing from him, so it didn’t seem at all brazen to assist him in putting clothes on. She helped him into his waistcoat, after retrieving it from where it had been folded in the same drawer with her silk paisley shawl.
He reached into the drawer and traced one of the blue swirls with a fingertip. “I’ve seen this scarf before.”
She glanced from the shawl to his face. “I was wearing it the night we met.”
He lifted one corner of the silk between his thumb and forefinger. “I haven’t seen you wear it since.”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut against a maelstrom of emotions. “I hate it because Rupert touched it. And I love it because my mysterious rescuer kept it safe for me.”
One side of his mouth lifted in acknowledgment of being her rescuer, a mystery no more. He tilted her chin up with one callused knuckle. “We might never have met if not for that blackguard.” His tone made it clear his emotions were just as conflicted as hers, being beholden to Rupert.
She had to rest her palm on his chest, over his heart. “I’d already given my handkerchief to Georgia that night.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he covered her hand with his own. “So we were destined to meet, one way or another.”
They swayed toward each other, David still holding her hand to his chest, Ashley certain they were about to kiss … when Sally said something to Maggie on the other side of the door.
Muffling a growl of frustration, Ashley dropped her hand and retrieved David’s cravat from its hiding place among her shawls. She held it out but he didn’t take it.
His hands were at his side, his waistcoat still unbuttoned, as he looked at her expectantly. Was that a light of challenge in his eyes as he raised one eyebrow?
Challenge accepted. He bent his knees long enough for her to loop the cravat around the back of his neck, then held still while she buttoned six of the eight buttons on his waistcoat. Did her hands touching his abdomen feel as intimate to him as when he’d rested his hand on her growling stomach? “I don’t know how to tie a cravat,” she admitted when she slid home the last button, leaving room for the shirt ruffles and cravat.
“Fortunately, I do.” He rested one hand on her shoulder for balance while he stepped into his shoes, bent down to buckle them, and they made their way to her dressing table.
Watching him walk without a limp for the first time in almost a week, thanks to his cleverly made shoes, she swallowed a lump in her throat. “We don’t have a stack of cravats, or time to iron this one repeatedly if you make a mistake.”
Seated at the dressing table, David looked at her in the mirror as she stood behind him. “Think I can’t tie this on the first try?”
“I’ve heard some gentlemen and their valets require six or seven cravats before they are satisfied with the knot.”
“I’m easy to please.” He winked at her, and then smiled as they both saw her cheeks pinken.
“Wretch.” Fortunately Sally and Maggie were both trying to appear busy, oblivious to their quiet exchange.
True to his word, he tied a credible knot on the first try. His hair still needed combing, but he didn’t reach for his brush on the table. He must be tiring and his arm hurting. He had choked down the willow bark tea without whiskey this morning so her aunt could not smell alcohol on his breath.
With only a slight hesitation, Ashley picked up his brush. She slowly drew it through the long chestnut strands, reveling in the freedom to run her fingers through his hair again. Had she ever touched another man’s hair? She couldn’t recall doing so, not even when Captain Blackthorn had been sick in the infirmary, feverish for days.
After all the tangles were out, she set the brush down and used her fingers to adjust the white streak in his hair just so, checking it in the mirror. “This will never do,” she said quietly.
