He jerked his head up to stare at her in shock. “Dear God, Sidonie, can’t I touch you even this far?”
His beautiful mouth twisted into a bitter line. His unhappiness shouldn’t have such power to wound her, not after only a few days. But it did.
“I swear I mean no harm.” His voice was hoarse with sincerity. He prepared to stand. “If you won’t accept help from me, I’ll wake Mrs. Bevan.”
It seemed capricious to ask him to stay. Jonas was dangerous. To escape him, she’d fled into the downpour like the host of hell pursued her. She touched Jonas’s hand before she remembered she meant to keep her distance, hoping to make him keep his. “No.”
He frowned but didn’t withdraw. She couldn’t fault him for finding her behavior puzzling. After tonight, he must think her demented. Perhaps the rain had rusted her brain. She couldn’t conceive of another reason for her shilly-shallying. “I don’t want you acting my servant.”
“Too bad.” His smile lacked genuine amusement. “It’s either me or Mrs. Bevan.”
She extended her leg toward him. After a pause, as if confirming her cooperation, he returned his attention to her feet.
Finally Jonas dropped the cloth into the bowl and rose to carry it to the washstand. He returned with the last of the towels and began to rub her hair.
“Merrick!” she protested.
The friction sparked a heat in her blood that didn’t entirely result from returning circulation. When he lifted the towel and she could see, his face was set in unyielding lines. He didn’t look like the man who had laughed with her and kissed her. Or who had shown her ecstasy. She shouldn’t want that man back. He threatened more than virtue. He threatened everything she valued.
She loathed the distance he set between them. In spite of the way he abased himself in unspoken apology. Because that’s what he did, however he derided himself as a man without conscience. While she hadn’t understood every emotion when she’d watched him unobserved, she’d recognized remorse. She cursed herself for a hysterical ninny, running away as though a mere “no” wouldn’t stop Jonas.
“No” was something she was lamentably slow to say.
The blanket slipped, revealing the upper slope of her breast. Hurriedly she hitched the covering higher. He didn’t seem to notice. She should be thankful he treated her with respect instead of like a sugarplum ripe for his devouring. Contrary creature she was, she felt piqued.
An hour ago he’d wanted her. Surely desire couldn’t die so fast. She didn’t know. She wasn’t familiar enough with desire to judge.
Glancing at the mirror across the room, she stifled a dismayed cry at the witch staring back. No wonder Jonas wasn’t interested. Her hair was matted, her face was a wan oval, and her eyes stood out like dark pools.
“Have you finished?” she asked, disgruntled with herself, with Jonas, with the whole world.
“Soon.” He refilled her brandy and passed it across. “If I leave you for a moment, will you promise not to hare off?”
A flush heated her cheeks as she accepted the glass. She couldn’t blame him for treating her like an ill-disciplined child. “I’ve run enough.”
“Good to hear.” He bowed his head in acknowledgment then left.
When he returned he’d dressed in shirt and breeches. His ministrations had definitely returned her to warmth and life. She even spent a moment regretting that he was no longer nearly naked.
Wicked girl.
He laid another shirt across the foot of the bed.
“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know where Mrs. Bevan put your nightdress,” he said mildly.
“Oh.” She was obscurely disappointed at his thoughtfulness. Of course she didn’t want to sleep beside him naked. Except he’d promised she’d sleep alone, hadn’t he?
Another pang of insidious disappointment.
He’d combed his unruly hair and it gleamed like black satin against his head. He reached for her hairbrush, set out on the dressing table as though this were her room. Whereas she was only a transient occupant.
She needed to remember that.
He stepped nearer and lifted the brush to her tangled hair.
“No.” She jerked away. She didn’t want more spurious consideration. She wanted the real man.