Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick

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СКАЧАТЬ off,’ he ordered, as he put Sally gently on her feet in the black-and-white tiled bathroom and turned on the taps so that the water gushed into the bath.

      Sally blushed. ‘I will do no such thing with you in the room! You can send one of the maids to attend to me.’

      Jack shook his head. ‘They are all at sixes and sevens and would be no use at all. You will have to make do with me. I’m going to fetch some hot water to top up the bath; by the time I get back, I expect you to be naked and in the water.’

      The hot colour deepened in Sally’s face even as she shivered in the wet folds of the tea gown. She heard the door slam behind Jack and started to struggle with the buttons and laces of the dress, but her fingers felt cold and were shaking so much that the fastenings slipped from her grip. When Jack returned, what seemed like a mere few minutes later, he found her half-out of the gown and struggling helplessly while the material dripped a puddle onto the floor.

      ‘One of these days,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I will get you out of your clothes without destroying them in the process.’

      He ripped the sodden shreds of the tea gown from Sally’s body and dropped them on the floor.

      Sally gave a gasp. ‘Charley’s dress!’

      ‘You surely don’t think that it would be fit to wear ever again, do you?’ Jack countered. He looked at her. ‘Do you want me to take off your chemise as well?’

      ‘No!’ Sally said. ‘Go away!’

      Jack grinned. ‘I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.’

      After he had gone out, Sally managed to struggle out of the clinging remnants of her underwear and slid into the scented waters of the bath with a little sigh of relief. She lay back, eyes closed, whilst the hot water lapped about her shoulders and soothed her cold body. But the little shivers that racked her would not go away. Unbidden, the image of her father’s lifeless body came into her mind. His face had been grey when they had finally dragged him from the river, the weed clinging to his body, sodden and unmoving. She shuddered, remembering the weight of Lucy in her arms and the terrible conviction she had that the child would slip from her grasp and be lost to her for ever, just as Sir Peter had been …

      ‘Sally?’

      She had not heard Jack’s voice through the tormenting images in her mind, but now she realised with a pang of shock that she must have been sitting there a long time; the bath water was cooling and he had come into the bathroom to find her and once again she was shaking and shaking as though she could not stop. Jack gave an oath, grabbed a towel and plucked her bodily from the water, wrapping the material around her and holding her close as he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her on to the bed. A second later he was back at her side with a glass of brandy in his hands. He held it to her lips.

      ‘You’re in shock,’ he said harshly. ‘I should have realised.’

      Sally shook her head. ‘No—’

      ‘Drink this, then we’ll talk.’

      The spirit burned Sally’s throat and helped her to pull her thoughts back from the brink. She put the glass down and drew the towel more closely and protectively about her, reaching for the eiderdown and drawing it up to her chin.

      ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I think I am more shaken than I realised. It is true that the accident reminded me of my father. He died of drowning.’

      Jack swore again. ‘I did not realise. I am sorry.’

      ‘I do not speak of it,’ Sally said, burrowing beneath the covers and feeling the warmth gradually banish the chill in her bones. ‘It was a long time ago now. We were punting on the river and he lost his footing and fell. I thought he would swim ashore and I tried to grab his hand, but he disappeared. I waited and waited—and only realised too late that there was something dreadfully wrong.’

      ‘What happened?’ Jack asked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and sought her hand beneath the covers, holding it in a comforting grasp.

      ‘When I realised he had not come up to the surface again, I screamed and screamed,’ Sally said. ‘Some of the other boatmen came then and helped me search, but it was too late. The police recovered his body from the river that evening. He had hit his head on the edge of the punt as he fell and sank like a stone.’ Another shudder racked her. ‘I have been terrified of water ever since.’

      ‘And yet you jumped in without hesitation to rescue Lucy,’ Jack said, his grip tightening on her hand.

      ‘I could not let it happen again,’ Sally said. ‘It was my fault that Papa died. I learned to swim after that, in case I ever needed it.’

      Jack was very still. ‘What do you mean when you say that it was your fault your father died?’

      Sally freed herself from his grip and fidgeted a little with the edge of the eiderdown. She avoided his eyes.

      ‘I could have saved him,’ she said.

      ‘And then Nell and Connie would not have had to fend for themselves?’ Jack suggested. ‘I had wondered at your determination to take care of them.’

      Sally was shocked by his perception. She had not intended to say so much. She had not wanted to reveal her innermost fear and guilt.

      ‘I am the eldest,’ she excused.

      ‘But that is not why you struggle so hard to defend them,’ Jack said. Sally saw something change in his face. ‘You feel guilt for something that is not your fault.’ Abruptly, Jack stood up. He walked across to the window before turning back to look at her.

      ‘Do you remember telling me last night that I should not take the blame for something that was not my fault?’ he said conversationally.

      ‘That was different,’ Sally said.

      Jack smiled. ‘Was it? Strange how it is always easier to see the beam in someone else’s eye. Think about it.’ His smile broadened. ‘And at the least you need not worry about taking care of Connie any longer. That is Bertie’s responsibility now.’

      He came back to her and bent to kiss her, a kiss for once that was gentle and devoid of the tempestuous passion that had characterised their relationship.

      ‘Oh, Sally Bowes,’ he said, against her lips, ‘don’t let the past haunt you. You are too sweet and generous for that to happen.’

      The tenderness of his kiss undermined Sally’s defences completely. She felt a sudden, huge and surprising rush of relief because the fear had gone and with Jack she felt safe. She drew him to her, sliding her hands over his shoulders and it was only then that she realised his shirt was still damp and clinging to his body. In his hurry to care for her he had certainly neglected his own comfort.

      ‘You’ll catch a chill!’ she protested, drawing back, and he smiled at her and pulled the shirt over his head in one fluid movement before joining her on the bed again.

      His skin was warm beneath her fingertips and he felt so vital and alive that Sally drank in the scent and the taste and the strength of him, giving him back kiss for gentle kiss, wanting to feel closer still. Their tongues tangled, delicate at first, then bold and searching. Both of them were too intent on each other to СКАЧАТЬ