When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(36)

As Max parted his lips to answer, some instinct prompted him to glance toward the doorway. Lysette stood there frozen, having just come in search of him. It was clear from her expression that she had overheard Bernard’s question. Well, hell, Max thought in exasperation.

Lysette quickly adopted a bright, determined smile as she advanced into the room. “Forgive me for interrupting, mon mari,” she said lightly. Dressed in a light peach gown that molded her br**sts together and draped gently over her slender figure, she looked fresh and vibrant. He wanted to seize her immediately, in spite of his sweat-soaked muddy clothes, and capture her mouth with a lusty kiss. “Your bath has been filled,” she told him. “I assume you will want to wash before supper.”

Max was at her side at once, feeling his mood lighten in her presence. She had a remarkable effect on him, reminding him of the time in his life when he had been young and idealistic, and had every expectation of happiness. “Most certainly. We will talk later, Bernard.”

His brother murmured an indistinguishable reply as they left.

“You are very dirty,” Lysette said. “What have you been doing today, Max?”

Max ignored the question, wondering if anyone else in the family had speculated on his possible whereabouts the previous evening. “Did my mother happen to make mention of my departure last night?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied with an ironic edge to her tone. “She counseled me to forgive you for neglecting me on our wedding night, and sought to reassure me that in time you will improve.”

He took her elbow as they walked. “Would you like to know where I went last night?”

“Not particularly,” Lysette said, and he grinned at the obvious lie. “However,” she added, “if you wish to tell me, go right ahead.”

“I went to see my former placée.” Max’s amusement persisted as Lysette jerked her elbow away from his grasp. “Shall I tell you what occurred between us?”

“No,” she snapped, and then stopped to stare at him warily. “Did you say ‘former’?”

“Yes, former. And nothing happened, other than that we agreed to end our arrangement for good.”

“Nothing?“ she asked suspiciously.

“Not even a good-bye kiss.”

“Oh.” Aware of an unexpected wash of relief, Lysette fought to conceal her pleasure. She let him take her arm again, and they walked into his bedroom, where a steaming bath awaited. A cake of expensive hard-milled soap and a pile of folded toweling had been placed on an overturned bucket beside the tub. Max made an appreciative sound at the sight, and stripped off his shirt.

Lysette stopped suddenly, unable to keep from glancing at his body. Max was muscular and sun-bronzed, a healthy male who was fully in his prime. Heavy black hair covered his chest and narrowed into a silkier pelt over the muscled tautness of his abdomen. His bare arms were corded and heavily developed from work on the plantation, not to mention years of fencing. Lysette stopped breathing as she watched him stride to the bed and sit on the edge of it.

Max stared at her with coffee-dark eyes. A smile tipped one corner of his mouth as he noticed her interest. He pulled off his muddy boots with a grunt of exertion, dropped the offending articles to the floor, and brushed the dried clay from his hands. With each movement, muscles flexed beneath his gleaming tanned skin. Lysette noticed a few marks on his torso, including a star-shaped scar on his shoulder.

“Where did those scars come from?” she asked.

“Dueling wounds. My honor, negligible as it may seem, has taken many contests of skill to defend.”

The musky, alluring smell of his skin drifted to Lysette’s nostrils. It made her want to draw closer and press her face into the salty heat of his neck. She approached him slowly, her gaze returning to the scars. “I suppose some of the young Creoles in town seek to prove their manhood by fighting you,” she said. “Like wolves challenging the leader of the pack. Have you ever wounded someone fatally?”

Max shook his head. “Usually honor is satisifed when first blood is drawn. I’ve always tried to avoid dueling, except for the one with Sagesse. I only fight when they make it impossible not to.”

“I understand,” Lysette said gently, reaching out to touch the scar on his shoulder. She hadn’t been aware of moving closer to his half-naked body, but she was right next to him, her breath stirring the hair on his chest. How many times had Max faced the point of a sword? How close to death had he come? The thought bothered her profoundly. Disconcerted, Lysette turned away from him. “You must be tired after so much exertion today. No doubt you are looking forward to your bath. I will leave you to—”

Lysette broke off as she heard a rustling sound behind her. He had removed his trousers, she realized. He was completely naked. She was immobilized with indecision, wanting to stay, wanting to go.

She heard the sound of his body plunging into the water. “Why don’t you help me bathe, petite?”

Lysette turned then, helplessly taking in the resplendent sight of gleaming male skin, the hard curves of his shoulders rising above the wooden rim of the tub. “Do you need help?” Her lungs felt hot and dilated, as if she had inhaled some of the abundant steam around him.

“You said that you wanted to become accustomed to me. I am giving you an opportunity to do that.”