Reaching out, he took her hands, entwining their fingers. “Meredith…” Her name passed his lips in a rough whisper. “You’re beautiful. So beautiful.” Lifting her hands to his lips, he pressed a fervent kiss against the sensitive inside of her wrist. Tingles raced up her arm, shooting liquid heat through her, which settled low in her belly. Surely she should feel some embarrassment at standing naked before him, yet all she felt was breathless exhilaration. Heady anticipation. And an overwhelming impatience to remove his clothing so she could see him as well, feel him against her, skin to skin.

Disentangling one of her hands from his, she reached out and skimmed her fingers down the front of his shirt. “One of us is wearing far too many garments.”

His eyes darkened with a combination of heat and amusement. Releasing her hand, he pulled his shirt from his breeches, then settled his arms at his sides. “I am at your disposal, madam.”

Intrigued at the thought of undressing him, she applied herself to the row of buttons down the front of his shirt. When she finished the last one, she slowly parted the material, slipping the fine lawn over his shoulders and down his arms. Her avid gaze took in his wide shoulders, broad chest, and muscled arms. Golden, tanned skin, sprinkled with dark brown hair that narrowed into a fascinating ribbon that bisected his ridged abdomen, before disappearing into the waistband of his breeches.

Encouraged by the desire so evident in his eyes, she placed her hands on his chest, then splayed her fingers, absorbing the warmth of his skin, delighting in the sensation of his hair tickling against her palm, his heartbeat thudding beneath her fingertips. She inhaled deeply, filling her head with the delightful, woodsy-clean scent that belonged to him alone. Captivated, she experimentally glided her hands across the expanse of firm muscles, and was rewarded with a masculine groan. Emboldened by that response, she smoothed her hands over him again, marveling at the firm, smooth texture of his skin, his hard muscles contracting beneath her palms. But when she feathered her fingertips down, over his abdomen, he sucked in a breath and grasped her wrists.

“If you continue to do that, I won’t last very long, and I am not yet finished taking care of you. There is still your bath to see to. Let me help you into the tub. The warm water will relax you, and relieve any soreness from our fall.”

“But what about you? You fell as well.”

“Which is why I intend to join you in the bath.”

His words, coupled by the sensual glitter in his eyes, fired a tingling flame through her. Pulling her gaze from his, she turned to look at the shiny brass tub, noticing for the first time its size. It was wider and considerably longer than any tub she’d ever seen, and did indeed appear large enough to fit two people-provided they sat very close to each other. “I’ve never seen a tub such as this.”

“I had it made in Italy. As I enjoy the healing and relaxation properties of a soak in warm water, and do not care to fold myself up like a paper fan, I required something considerably larger than a hip bath. I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”

Holding his hand for balance, she climbed upon the small wooden stool, stepped over the edge of the tub, then lowered herself into the heated water.

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Close your eyes and relax. I shall return in a moment.”

“Where are you going?”

His gaze slid down her body. “To fetch my strigil.”

Admiring his broad back, she watched him walk toward a door she assumed led to his dressing room, and recalled their conversation in the warehouse about the strigil… how it was used by ancient Greeks and Romans for scraping moisture off their skin after bathing. And the wealth of sensual images that conversation had inspired. Of him, and her, naked in the bath-never daring to hope that such fantasies could become reality. Was it only an hour ago she’d told herself that he wasn’t hers to touch? Hers to kiss? Yet now he was all that, and so much more. He was hers to love. And marry. And care for. And bathe with…

The curls of steam rising from the water had nothing to do with the heat coursing through her. The door he’d disappeared through opened, and he walked toward her, wearing a dark blue silk robe, the sash loosely knotted about his waist. She noted his bare feet, and her heart sped up at the realization that the robe was all he wore. In one hand he carried a folded towel, in the other hand he carried a strigil, identical to the one she’d cataloged at the warehouse, except this one was made of highly polished brass and looked considerably newer.

After setting down the towel and strigil next to the towel whoever had prepared the bath had already left, he crouched down alongside the tub. Dipping his hand into the water, he trailed his fingers along her thigh. “How does the water feel?”

“Nice. Warm.” Summoning her courage, she added, “Lonely.”

Heat flickered in his eyes, and without a word, he rose, untied the sash securing his robe, then shrugged the garment from his body. Her gaze wandered slowly downward, from his shoulders and chest, following that captivating silky line of hair down his abdomen to his…

Oh, my.

Lower, that silky ribbon spread to cradle his fully erect manhood. Fascination and trepidation collided in her, and her gaze flew up to meet his. His ardor was obvious, but judging by the banked fire in his eyes, it was also clear that he was holding himself in tight control.

He stepped to the edge of the tub. “Move forward a bit,” he said softly.

Entranced, she did as he bade her, watching over her shoulder as he stepped over the edge, then lowered himself to sit behind her.

The water rose, coming within inches of sloshing over onto the carpet. He slipped his long legs on either side of her, then, grasping her shoulders, eased her backward until her entire back reclined against his chest, warm water lapping at her shoulders. He fitted his arms beneath hers, wrapping them lightly around her waist.

Sensations bombarded her from every direction. The incredible feel of his naked body surrounding hers, their skin slippery and sleek from the water. The gentle tickle of his chest hair against her shoulders. His heartbeat thumping against her back. His arousal nestled snugly against the base of her spine. Her temple resting against his smoothly shaven cheek. The sight of his strong, golden brown arms and legs enveloping her, her skin so pale in comparison. One of his large hands cupping the underside of her breast beneath the water, her nipple erect, as if begging for his touch. She drew in a deep breath and her eyes slid closed as his unique scent rose on the steam, surrounding her in a heated, sensual cocoon from which she never wished to emerge.

Yet just when she thought it impossible to be steeped in further sensations, his hands began to move beneath the water. Her eyelids fluttered open and she watched his hands glide slowly upward, over her breasts. His palms skimmed over her taut nipples, but he did not linger, instead continuing his upward journey to her shoulders, where his fingers lightly massaged. A low moan of pleasure purred in her throat.

After his hands wrought their limb-weakening magic upon her shoulders for several moments, he whispered against her cheek, “Raise your arms and wrap them around my neck.”

Languid from his ministrations, she did as he bade, linking her upraised hands together at his nape. With his lips bestowing lingering kisses along her temple, his hands slowly smoothed down the undersides of her arms, slipped under the water to continue over her breasts. Each of his fingers teased over her nipples, quickening her breath. Before she could recover, he continued downward, over her rib cage and abdomen, then along her inner thighs. When he reached her knees, he reversed direction and slowly stroked his way back up her body to her elbows.

“Do you like that?” His question tickled by her ear.

“Yes.” Her response came out in a long sigh of pleasure.

He repeated the long, drugging stroke, kindling an inferno in her that quickly threatened to consume her from the inside out. With each passing of his hands over her body, she experienced an insistent, heavy pull between her thighs. Moans she could not suppress accompanied her every exhale. How was it possible that his touch both soothed and aroused her unbearably at the same time?

Each time his fingers brushed over her nipples, she lifted her breasts, craving more of his touch. When his palms meandered along her thighs, she spread her legs wider, increasingly desperate for him to put out this relentless fire he’d ignited. Turning her head, she pressed her lips against his throat, squirming against him when he lingered over her breasts and teased her aching nipples between his fingers.

Philip sucked in a sharp breath as she moved against him, the curve of her buttocks rubbing against his erection. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure, fighting to remain in control, but the feel of her all but vibrating beneath his hands, the sight of her taut nipples seeking his touch, her straining to splay her legs wider, offering him the sensual wonders hidden by the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, the erotic scent of feminine arousal rising from her skin, her increasingly uninhibited response, all conspired to rob him of his command over himself.

“Philip…”

His name, whispered against his neck in a smoky, need-filled moan, stripped him of another layer of restraint. Shifting slightly to have better access to her lips, his mouth came down on hers in a hot, demanding, open-mouthed kiss. While one hand continued to play over her breasts, his other hand wandered downward, his fingers cruising over her belly and those entrancing curls, then slid lower, between her thighs, to glide over her sleek, swollen flesh. She gasped against his mouth, and he deepened their kiss, his tongue rubbing against hers in a blatant imitation of the act his body desperately ached to share with her.