Quiet so not to alert Juliet to his presence thus bringing her merriment to an abrupt end, Patrick turned the doorknob and used extra care to ease the door open. The door opened only halfway and Patrick’s body stilled. His eyes were captured by the breathtaking sight in front of him: Juliet naked and wet in a hot, steamy bath. Her eyes were closed, her head leaning over the back edge of the tub, face pointed up at a ninety degree angle toward the ceiling. Her right arm rested along the right side of the copper tub, her left hand holding a soapy cloth, methodically moving it up and down her right arm, leaving a trail of slippery bubbles in its wake before moving to her chest. Mesmerized, his eyes followed her hand and stared shamelessly as she brought the cloth along the top of her chest then down to her perky breasts. He clenched his hands into two tight fists. He could no more will his eyes away from her sudsy breasts than he could make himself stop breathing.
You’re only staring at them because you didn’t think she had any. He shook his head. No, not even that thought could explain why he was staring at her breasts as if he’d never laid eyes on a set before. She brought the cloth up to get her neck. Slowly, almost torturously, she dragged the cloth from one side of her neck to the other. Rivulets of water flowed from the bottom of the cloth right down her chest. Naturally, his eyes followed―his blood, face, and desire heating up to the temperature of an inferno. A little stream of water ran straight down the middle of her breast, rinsing off all the bubbles in a line that ran directly over her nipple. A sound he didn’t recognize escaped his lips.
Juliet shrieked and plunked herself under the water in the most haphazard, unladylike fashion imaginable. She reemerged, wet but free of soapy bubbles, her hands wildly feeling about for her spectacles. “Who’s there,” she demanded.
Her panic cooled Patrick’s ardor and heat fueled by embarrassment warmed his face. “Your husband.” He winced at the raggedness of his voice.
“Why did you have to scare me like that?” Juliet asked, fumbling to put her spectacles on, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks.
Patrick averted his eyes, feigning interest in the tops of his shoes. “I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, blood roaring in his ears.
“Was there something you needed?” Juliet queried from the tub.
Wasn’t she going to cover up? There was a towel sitting right there. Why wasn’t she wrapping it around herself? “We can talk later.” He took a step back.
“I’ll be occupied later. What was it that was so important you needed to interrupt my bath to discuss?”
Patrick’s throat worked. “I didn’t realize you were bathing,” he stammered. He cautiously raised his eyes just enough to see her, but not be too obvious about it.
“Of course,” she muttered. She frantically took that little rag full of soapy water and hastily ran it over her body.
“I’ll come back,” Patrick said inanely, forcing his feet to take yet another step backward.
Juliet stood. Patrick froze, utterly paralyzed. The only sound in the room was the loud thunking ker plunk of Juliet’s discarded rag hitting the bathwater. “No need, my lord.” She reached both hands up and started squeezing the water from her hair, the simple task lifted her pert breasts and made them gently bounce as she continued to wring out her hair. “What was so important?”
Patrick remained motionless. Even his mouth couldn’t move to so much as attempt to form a sentence. Here his wife stood completely naked in front of him and he was reduced to staring at her as if he were a green lad who’d never seen a woman in a state of undress before.
Juliet cleared her throat. “Now that you’ve gotten your chance to enjoy the view, will you tell me what you came to say? I need to get back to the girls.”
“Girls,” he choked, blinking out of his haze. Just where were the girls? And why was she in here taking a bath in the middle of the day? His jaw clenched. More importantly, why was she in this room taking her bath? So many questions raced through his mind, he barely registered Juliet was stepping out of the tub.
“Yes, girls,” Juliet intoned coolly. She used her towel to dry off the wet skin of her left arm. “I need to finish their lessons.”
“Where are they now,” he forced himself to say, commanding his eyes to look anywhere but at her naked body that was beckoning to him.
“Taking their own baths, I’d presume,” she said easily, now drying her right arm. “We went for a walk after lunch.”
Patrick glanced out the window. When had the rain started? “Did you get a chill?” He started, surprised by the genuine concern that had just filled his voice.