His fingertips scraped down her ribs, skimmed lower and caught the cotton waist of her drawers. His breath fanned her nape as he tugged the bow loose and the fabric hung at her hips, ready to fall at any moment.

Naked, exposed, vulnerable, she shivered, but not from fear. Hennessey’s kiss traveled from her nape to her earlobe. The tug of his lips on sensitive skin felt like paradise. His palms caught her hipbones and his fingers interlocked over the curve of her stomach, trapping her against his steeled chest and the hard, impressive manhood jutting against the small of her back.

“I have never seen such beauty.” His confession was a low caress against the sensitized shell of her ear.

She broke then, like snow from the face of mountain, crumbling apart, unable to stop. Inevitable, fated, she closed her eyes and leaned into his strength. She allowed his arms to hold her up as her heart tumbled. What was he doing to her?

“The bath is waiting for you.” His words skimmed the curve of her earlobe. “I’ll just turn around while you, uh, take off the rest of your things.”

Was that shyness she heard in his voice? she wondered as she let the cotton slip to the floor. She laid one hand on the back of his shoulder as she dipped one foot into the steaming water. The lap and caress of the hot water melted her very bones. She brought her other foot into the tub and eased all the way in.

Heaven. She rested her head against the hard rim and closed her eyes. When was the last time she’d felt this good? She couldn’t remember. The delicious water comforted her soreness. Her worries drifted away on the rising steam to evaporate into nothing.

“Does it feel good?”

“Hmm.” She couldn’t speak. That’s how good it was. She was like a hunk of butter melting on a stove. Grateful tears ached in her throat.

Dillon had done this for her. She couldn’t remember anyone doing so much for her in what felt like a lifetime. She had to think of something to do for him in return.

She heard the hush of fabric and the crinkle of paper. Hennessey’s step moved closer. Fabric whispered to a rest on the chair cushion, within reach. She summoned up enough strength to open one eye a slit. He’d brought her the new robe.

“And for you. I hope you haven’t read it.” He laid a volume and a towel next to the robe.

A book? He’d bought her a book? She sat up. Water crashed against the rim of the tub and splashed over. Dillon knelt and handed her the towel to dry her hands.

A more disciplined man would say it was water droplets glistening in the lamplight on her bare, silken skin that aroused him. Or the graceful sweep of her slim hands as she took the towel and dried the dampness from her sensitive fingertips. A better man than him wouldn’t sneak a quick peek at her generous, rose-tipped breasts and creamy thighs.

He wasn’t a saint. He looked at her, blood stampeding through his veins. His ears buzzed. His vision blurred. He panted for air in short, fast gasps. He was instantly throbbing hard.

It was all he could do not to reach through that sheen of glittering water and fill his hands with her soft breasts. So big, they’d fit his hands with some to spare. If only he had the right to touch her like that. Love her like that. He’d make sure to take care of her. To give her pleasure. To make her want him.

“Oh, Charles Dickens.” Even her voice aroused him more. Soft as a caress on bare skin.

She’s not yours yet, Hennessey. He fought for control as he handed her the thick book. She was talking, but her words came from so far away and he couldn’t hear them over the drum of his pulse in his ears. A beat that pounded through his entire body. How he wanted her. Needed her.

This is for her, remember that. As much as he wanted to haul her wet and naked into his arms, he turned his back and grabbed the pitcher from the nightstand to fill Katelyn’s tin cup. The cold water and the cool cup felt like ice in his hand. He heard the tinkle of water as Katelyn settled back to read her book.

Just give her the cup. And don’t stare. Don’t scare her.

“Dillon, how can I ever thank you enough?” Her face was flushed from the heat. A healthy glow. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“This is only the beginning, ma’am.” He set the cup within reach and kept his attention on her face. She was lovely. He ached with the need to touch her. If only to run one fingertip down the inviting curve of her face.

“So, this is how a real man treats a lady? He pours her a bath and watches her?”

“Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t be sitting here.” His face burned, but he stayed right where he was. “But a real man doesn’t leave a job half-finished.”

“What job?”

“Why, ma’am, I brought up the tub and the water, but there’s more work to be done. It goes against my conscience to be a lazybones and leave you to do all the work.”

“What work?”

“Why, that’s a complicated question. The first answer would be this. It’s my duty to help you feel better. After what you’ve been through and how you were treated, it’s my sworn duty to show you not all men are jackasses.”

“Sworn duty?” Over the top of A Tale of Two Cities, the humor vanished from her face. Wariness crept in.

Just how much had that bastard hurt her? A slow burning rage tasted bitter on his tongue as he eased around to the back of the tub. Slow. Easy. He wasn’t about to frighten her. “That’s right, ma’am. Relax, it’s all right. Keep reading.”

She turned with a swish of water to watch him. “What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m simply following the rules.”

“What rules?”

“Real men’s rules. They’re like commandments. A decent man always follows them.”

“Decent? You call gazing down at a bathing woman decent?” Some of the wariness was easing.

He kept his voice low and easy and warm, as he did when he talked to horses. “Just mind your business, ma’am, and read your book. Leave the rest up to me.”

“Dillon.” She tensed. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes pinched. The wariness crept back. “I thought you would leave. I know what my stepfather said, but you can’t-I’m not-”

Sure she was worried and expected the worst. She’d been hurt and hurt badly. Didn’t know if men did anything else. Just like the horses he worked with. And he knew exactly what to do. Exactly what she needed.

“I know. Believe me, I would never hurt you.” He gathered her long hair and slipped it over her shoulder, baring her neck.

He touched her before she could leap up and bolt for safety, before her nervousness could escalate into panic. He drew up the warmth from his heart, the way his grandfather taught him, so she could feel him. Feel that he meant her no harm.

He felt her intake of breath. Yeah, she felt him all right. His hands stroked up the length of her neck, from shoulder line to her hairline and on up past to the crown of her head. A light, soft, slow touch. “Like that?”

“Oh.” She breathed the word. “Yes.”

“See? It’s a job to serve a pretty lady.”

“You’re just trying to convince me to m-marry you. You said so.” She stiffened and shuddered.

He could feel the hurt move through her and into him. “That I did. I’m just being honest. That’s the best course between a man and a woman, don’t you think?”

She nodded, her beautiful face pinched. Yeah, it was as he thought. So much pain.

It’s okay, my sweet angel. It’s all right now. He stroked his fingertips up her spine again. He could feel the rounds of her vertebrae, the heated satin of her skin, the gossamer softness of her hair.

His trousers became more uncomfortable as he grew unbelievably harder. There was no denying the desire that pulsed through him. Hard like a hammer’s blow. But this wasn’t about his needs. His desires.

He wove his thumbs up her neck, digging in between those small vertebrae.

“Oh, that’s nice.” She leaned into his touch, just a bit.

That’s right. It feels good, doesn’t it, honey? As if in answer, she sighed in a long, slow release. A contented sound. Yeah, she liked it. She liked his touch. I’m gonna make you feel better, see?

He cradled his left hand at the base of her skull. She didn’t rest her head, she didn’t trust him yet. Fine, he’d show her that she could. He stroked along her hairline, behind her right ear and lingered when he heard the tiny moan low in her throat. He ran his hand across her brow. Over the top of her head in slow easy circles.

She rested the weight of her head in his palm.

That’s right, angel. He wanted to hop up and dance a jig. Throw open the window and shout his triumph to the wind. Instead he caressed the length of his hand down her neck and into the dip of her right shoulder.

“Oh.” She sighed.

He kept going along her shoulder and down her arm and back again. I’m going to treat you good and gentle. I’m going to make it all better. I can do that for you. Yes I can, sweet lady. See?

As if in answer, she relaxed even more. Sank lower into the steaming water. He held her head steady. Caught the book as it began to tip out of her hands.

“I’ll just put that over here.” He had to smile. Her eyes drifted shut, her face as soft as if she were sleeping, as trouble free.

He’d done that for her. It made him feel good, manly, satisfied. She was his now, whether she admitted it or not. But she’d already decided it. He could feel it in her surrender.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Affection began to grow in his lonely heart. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never hurt you like that. Never.

“Here’s your book.” He retrieved it for her, found the page she’d been reading and placed it into her hands.

“That was wonderful.”