Laurie Paige – The Housekeeper's Daughter (страница 9)

But as usual, he was quicker than a cat. He retrieved the bottle from the table and opened it. Then he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, feeling big and clumsy and at the end of her tether.

“Our daughter is going to think her parents are of the equine variety if we keep using the horse liniment to rub you down.”

“She wouldn’t if you’d just leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” he stated, so simply she couldn’t think of an argument to convince him he could. “Lie down,” he requested, gesturing toward the bed.

Sighing, she heaved herself up and went to the bed, not caring if he saw her as round as a pumpkin in her gown. It wasn’t as if he were going to ravish her.

Memories rushed at her, tilting her already shaky emotions. Tears sprang to her eyes. Eight months ago, he had laved her with kisses and caresses and sweet, sweet words of love. And then he’d left.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. Maybe the words hadn’t been those of love, only need and physical hunger. Except she’d felt the love in him, saw it in his eyes. Or thought she had. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Putting a knee on the bed, she let herself down on the cool sheet and turned on her stomach as much as she could, her leg drawn up to take her weight. She sighed at her own awkwardness, then at her foolish dreams.

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