Chapter Seven
She was soaked.
And so damn cold with the wind blowing snow everywhere, her dress plastered to her body, her cloak wrapped around God knew where, and flakes in her eyes making it difficult to see anything at all.
“Oliver,” she shouted. “Where the devil are you?” She swiped ineffectively at her face, discovering that her hair and head were topped with what felt like a foot of snow.
“Here.” His voice was right in front of her. “Take my hand.” He grabbed hers. “Concentrate on your steps. We’ll brush off the snow when we reach the door.”
She nodded, trying to ignore the icy shivers as more of the damn stuff fell down the back of her neck.
“Oh Lord, this is just horrid,” she breathed, feeling her dress clinging to her skin.
Goosepimples rose everywhere, and she started to shiver again, gripping Oliver’s hand with vise-like desperation.
Her feet slid and slithered and by the time they’d reached the back door she was hanging on to him, letting him almost carry her across the step and into the blessed warmth of the kitchen.
“Damnation.” She swore softly as he unfastened her tangled cloak and shook it outside. Her hair lay soaked and icy against her skin, as did her gown. “I am so cold.”
“I can’t begin to imagine.” He slammed shut the door, hanging the damp cloak on a hook. “I’m not even going to look for the lantern. It’s the chamber pot for you, Ally. No more going outside in this storm.”
She rolled her eyes, too cold to be embarrassed at his blunt speech.
“But now we have to get you warm and dry.” He tugged her into the parlour and stood her in front of the fire as he put on another log.
“I’ll be steaming like a pudding soon,” she muttered, shivers wracking her body.
“Oliver, I have a change of clothes in my bag. Let me go upstairs and get out of this sopping thing.” She pulled the wet wool away from her legs.
“I’ll never warm up until I can wear something that isn’t soaked through. ”
“I don’t know about towels…” he answered hesitantly. “How will you dry off?”
“I haven’t a clue, but there must be a way,” she shuddered. “I’ll use the bed linens if it comes to that.”
“All right. Come on then. I’ll see if the fireplace up there will work. If we can get the room to warm up a little, then I’m sure that will help.”
His arm was welcome as he led her down the corridor to the staircase.
She’d never been as cold as she was at that moment, and although she knew it was temporary, her shivers were strong enough to frighten her.
Visions of ague, and worse, darted through her mind, and she clung to Oliver a little more tightly.
“Almost there,” he said gently. “We’ll have you dry and warm in no time, Ally.”
She nodded, her hands icy, her feet growing numb and the rest of her so uncomfortable she couldn’t describe it. It was a welcome relief to see the candles still burning and the room well lit.
What was a surprise was the fire blazing happily in the grate.
“Oliver…”
“I see it.”
Her grip tightened as she moved nearer to him. “We didn’t do that, did we?”
“No.” His swallow was harsh enough for her to hear, since she was standing so close. “But I’m grateful to whoever did. You need the heat.”
She nodded, and let him lead her to stand on the rug in front of the fire. “I’m dripping.”
“I know. Just a moment.” The comfort of his body was gone as he opened a large chest at the foot of the bed. “Thank God,” he murmured. “Towels, Ally. Perfect to dry you off.”
She gulped down a breath. “Wonderful. I’d not trade them for a fortune right this minute. If you could unbutton the back of my gown, Oliver, I’ll take care of the rest myself.”
“Of course.” He put the towels on the bed and then walked to her, his hands brushing her wet hair out of the way so that he could unfasten the few buttons on the back of her bodice. “Can you manage on your own?”
“Yes.” It was weak, but a definite chuckle. “I’m not a frippery lady who can’t lift a finger on her own. Trust me. I’ll do well now.”
“I’ll fetch your bag,” he replied, moving away from her, leaving her feeling a bit bereft.
“Thank you.”
Then he was gone, the room empty but for her. And, dammit, she missed him. But there were matters to attend to, and she moved nearer the fire, slipping her arms from the wet clothing and shivering even as the warmth began to do its work.
The towels he’d found were large, a good size to wrap around a chilly body, which got chillier as she shed her petticoats and stockings.
But having the foresight to hang a couple of them on the screen by the fire while she slithered out of her wet prison, paid off handsomely.
Toasty warm cotton met goose-pimpled flesh, and she heaved a sigh of delight as her limbs finally began to thaw.
Her hair, of course, was another matter.
Wrapped up in the style of an Egyptian mummy she’d once seen in a museum, Allegra pulled pins from her coiffure, letting the wet tresses tumble free. Sighing, she perched on the end of the bed and started to run her fingers through the wayward curls as best she could.
But the heat was too far away. Glancing around, she noticed a convenient footstool. “Just the thing,” she muttered, drawing it up to the hearth.
Within moments, she was tucking towels around her toes and rubbing her hair with another one, toasting herself in the warmth of the flames and finally feeling less like an icicle and more like a human.
She had no idea that Oliver had returned with her bag and was leaning against a bedpost and watching her.
“Feel better?”
He managed not to laugh as she nearly shot up off the footstool. “Oliver. I didn’t hear you come in,” she squeaked, trying to keep her balance and not tumble to the floor.
“Well, you’re certainly close enough to the fire to dry off a bit. In fact, I wonder if you might be a little too close? All those towels so near to the flame…watch for cinders flying out.”
Her back straightened as she half-turned and shot him a look of disdain. “I’m not twelve, you know.”
Her shoulders were bare, her skin glowing in the firelight, dark curls unruly against the pale beauty.
“That’s obvious,” he grinned, allowing his gaze to travel to where her hand clutched the towels together at her breast.
“You may leave the bag there, thank you.”
“Of course.” He put it on the bed and returned to the bedpost, folding his arms nonchalantly.
“I can manage,” she nodded, all regal elegance despite her lack of clothing.
“I’m sure you can, but I would be an insensitive clod were I to turn my back on a woman who is going to need help doing up her buttons.
Why, you might easily tumble or hurt yourself trying to fasten your gown.
And we can’t have that.” He sighed dramatically.
“You might even be unable to get up off that footstool, given that you’re wrapped so tightly in damp towels.
” He shook his head. “No, considering all that, I’d be a monster to leave you unattended.
Just treat me as you would your maid.” He spread his arms and bowed. “I’m here to serve, my Lady.”
She narrowed her eyes. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Oliver…”
“Yes?”
“You need to leave.”
“No.”
“I cannot dress with you here.”
“You cannot dress without my assistance.”
“Nonsense.” She moved her feet and clutched the towels even more tightly.
“You are wrapped tight, sitting eight inches off the floor. Standing up will be a challenge, Ally, and dressing? Even more of one.”
With a massive effort, she attempted to prove him wrong, only to end up on her knees when the towels stuck to her damp legs, locking them together and tipping her over sideways.
He could almost hear her teeth grinding together. “One word. Just one word out of you…”
Oliver, being a man possessed of what some considered an excellent amount of intelligence, kept his mouth shut. He simply moved to her side, let her put her hand in his, and drew her upward and onto her feet.
The ivory skin was flushing now, whether from warmth or temper, he didn’t know. But he did know that he wanted to touch it. Badly. So badly that if he didn’t touch her right this minute, he might just succumb to failure of the heart.
He let his fingers trail over her shoulders, ostensibly brushing her curls away from her skin. “So soft, Ally,” he whispered. “So lovely and soft…”
She stared at him, her eyes wide, and – if he didn’t mistake it – with an arrested expression that spoke of curiosity, not concern.
“I…” There it was, a whispered sound that resonated in his brain. She wasn’t pushing him away, screaming in fear of her virtue, or even showing any concern that she was naked but for several damp towels.
Her gaze fell to his lips, and she licked her own, a silent invitation that she probably had no idea she’d offered. But it was more than enough encouragement for him.
“Ally, oh Ally. I’ve wanted to do this since the minute I saw you today…”
He tightened his hold on her, drawing her close, sliding one arm around her to prevent her from escaping.
Although it seemed there was little need of it, since she allowed him to clasp her tightly, even going so far as to slide an arm up and onto his shoulder.
The other was crushed between them as she held on to her towels with a grip of iron.
He longed to uncurl those fingers, to rip the cloths away, and hold her naked against him. But he was still dressed and still in enough control of his urges to push that desire aside. For the time being.
Instead, he closed the distance between their faces, slowly, oh so slowly, bringing his mouth down to hers.
“Ally,” he whispered. “I’ve never forgotten the sweetness of your kiss…”
“Oliver,” she whispered back. “Will it still be the same?” Her eyelids gradually drifted down as she closed her eyes and waited.
“Let’s find out.”
Gently, tenderly, his lips touched hers, a moment that thrilled him to the soles of his boots. Full and ripe, he pressed a little, encouraged as they parted in invitation.
In that second, all thought of soft kisses vanished. A wave of need replaced the tenderness, and he plunged deep, his tongue finding hers, mouths clashing, breaths mingling as they fought each other for control of the embrace.
Wild, writhing in his arms, fingers scrabbling for his hair at the back of his neck, she caught him off-guard.
Any thought of delicacy or forbearance vanished; he met her passion with his own.
Some kind of door had opened inside him, and released this outpouring of frantic desire – he let it take him as he devoured her, tasting that well-remembered flavour of her mouth once again.
This time, though, it was different. He held an eager partner to the embrace, welcoming him, pressing as close as she could to him, her towel-wrapped body now generating enough heat to penetrate his waistcoat.
She’d released her grasp on the towels and they were sliding down, down…
he wanted nothing more than to seize them and rip them away from her so that he could get his hands on her bare skin and…
And what?
Take her right now, on that bed, in a strange inn that boasted many things that shouldn’t be there, and yet were? Was this all some kind of dream or hallucination they shared?
With amazing strength, given the situation, Oliver eased back from Allegra, seeing her slumbrous eyes linger on his mouth. Hard as nails beneath his breeches, it wouldn’t have taken much for him to see their interlude through to its natural conclusion.
But something held him back. “Ally,” he murmured softly. “Ally.”
She swayed a little and caught up her towels. “I…I don’t know what came over me…”
“A few more moments and it would have been me.”
She blinked. “What?”
He brushed away the facetious comment. “This is dangerous, my dear. For both of us.” It was a wrench, but he stepped back from her. “Dress. Get warm and comfortable. Then we’ll talk. I’ll be downstairs.”
Applauding himself for his control, he walked stiffly from the room, cursing the arousal in his breeches that made his every move extremely uncomfortable.