Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(75)

He let go of her and refastened his breeches. Lily remained propped against the wall. Slowly she brought her arms around herself, partially shielding her body from his gaze. She had the dazed expression of someone who had just endured some terrible calamity. Turning back to her, Alex frowned. “Lily…” Wanting to comfort her, he lifted his hand to her face, but she flinched away from his paint-stained ringers. With a wry smile, he regarded his colorful hand. “Does it wash off,” he asked gravely, “or should I begin thinking of explanations?”

Lily glanced down at the rainbow of hues covering her smooth body. “I don’t know.” She couldn’t seem to sort through her jumbled thoughts. Her heart was still clattering, as if she had dosed herself with an exhilarating, nerve-shattering drug. She felt crazy and unsteady, and ready to cry. “I’m going home,” she said. “If you have a shirt I could wear, a cloak—”

“No,” he said quietly.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I’m going home.”

“Not when you look like that. No, I don’t mean the paint, I mean the look on your face. As if you’re going to do something drastic.”

“I always do something drastic,” she said coolly. “My life has been an unending series of predicaments, my lord, ever since I was a child. I’ve survived them all without your interference, and I’ll continue to do so.”

Alex put his hands on her body again, ignoring her reluctant protest. He toyed with her navel, the points of her hipbones, fondling her as if he were holding a priceless piece of sculpture. Lily’s composure—what there was of it—disappeared at his touch. Awkwardly she began to push his hands away, but her attention was distracted as he spoke calmly. “Is money the only problem?”

“I don’t want money from you,” she said, catching her breath as his fingers brushed the edge of the paint-gilded curls at the top of her thighs.

“Would five thousand be sufficient, or do you need more?”

“Why don’t you tell me precisely what obligations would come with it?” She glared at him and nodded, “Or is this by chance a gift with no strings attached?”

He held her gaze inflexibly. “There are strings.”

Lily laughed mirthlessly. “At least you’re honest.”

“More honest than you.”

“I don’t lie.”

“No, you just withhold the truth.”

She lowered her eyes, aware of the havoc his gentle stroking was causing within her. “That seems to be the only damned thing I’ve withheld from you,” she muttered, and her ears burned at the sound of his soft laughter.

Linking his fingers around her fragile wrist, he pulled her away from the wall and across the bedroom. Lily sputtered in indignation as she stumbled after him. “I haven’t agreed to anything!”

“I know you haven’t. We’re going to continue our conversation in the bath.”

“If you think I’ll allow you to watch me bathe—”

He stopped suddenly and spun around, sliding an arm around her and kissing her hard. She twitched in surprise, but he held her snug and compact against him, one hand clamped around her wrist so firmly that she could feel her pulse throbbing against the cinch of his fingers. He lifted his head and she remained against him, blinking in bewilderment. With a quick grin, he continued to pull her behind him until they reached the bathing room. Alex let go of her and went to the tub, adjusting the gold spigots until the pipes shuddered behind the wall. Hot and cold water came forth in tumbling streams.

Standing with her arms around herself, Lily glanced at her surroundings in wonder. It was positively decadent, outfitted with a marble fireplace and lined with white tiles painted and glazed with brilliant colors. Having seen their like before in Florence, she recognized them as rare Italian tiles more than two centuries old. The built-in tub was the largest she had ever seen, able to accommodate two.

Alex smiled sardonically as he saw her modest posture. He pried her arm away from her br**sts. “After parading through Craven’s in nothing more than a few scarves sewn together—”

“It wasn’t as revealing as it seemed. My wig hid a great deal.”

“Not enough.” Forcibly he guided her into the tub. With the dignity of an offended cat, Lily sat down in the rising water. Alex began to strip off his ruined clothes. “There’ll be no more of that,” he said brusquely, sliding her a wary glance.

At first Lily thought he meant her sullen attitude, but then she realized he was referring to her display at Craven’s. The comment annoyed her. She should have expected he would begin issuing commands. She had never accepted anyone’s dictates, not even her parents’. “I’ll parade stark na**d up and down Fleet Street if I want to.”

He gave her a derisive glance but didn’t reply. Lily reached for one of the cakes of soap piled in a glass bowl on the floor. Industriously she ran the slick soap over her arms and chest and splashed water over her skin. The steam and heat gathering in the room began to relax her, and unconsciously she gave a long sigh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex approach the side of the tub. Realizing he was naked, she made a move to leave the warm water. “No,” she said apprehensively. “I don’t want you to share my bath. I-I’ve had enough of your pawing for one night.”