She counted seven daughters in all.

The small army of them, on a parade of seeing to her bath, ensured that there was no time to be alone with Val . . . until the last bucket of water was thrown into the tub and the youngest and smallest of the women dipped a curtsy, and collected coin from Val.

Left, so that she and Val were once more alone.

Suddenly, the feel of the bed against her legs sent her heart into a wild hammering; the furniture grew thrice the size for all her sudden awareness of it.

Stop. This is not the first room you’ve been in alone with Val.

It felt different this time.

Why? What was it about this moment that made it unlike the others that had come before?

Val cleared his throat. “You require help.”

He was staying!

“I’ll fetch one of the women to return and help you,” he said, and disappointment flared in her breast.

“Wait!” Desperation lent a panicky pitch to her voice.

His eyes darkened, and he cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“I . . . I . . . wanted to thank you,” she finished weakly. “For everything.”

Of course he could not remain while she bathed. Except . . . he had before. That had been before, however, when there’d been absolutely no servants about and she’d been completely to her own devices, with only him to serve in that role.

“And then you’ll return,” she said softly, needing to hear that anyway. To remind herself that he’d come back.

“I’ll not leave, Myrtle.” His always gruff voice lent a harsher quality to that low baritone. “I’ll remain outside the whole while.”

Relief swept through her. “Thank you. And then we can dine together, and there really is more than enough room—”

Something in his eyes. Nay, not something. Horror. Horror cut her ramblings short. “You don’t intend to come back in,” she whispered, her voice stricken to her own ears.

His features grew strained. “Myrtle, I cannot—”

“You did before! You and I . . . We . . . shared a room, and—”

“That was when you and I were completely alone,” he said with a gentleness that she’d never heard from him, and it caused a deep ache of mortification and shame that sent her toes curling sharply into the soles of her feet.

Myrtle fell back on her heels. Unable to meet his eyes, she slid her gaze to a point on the door just beyond his shoulder. “Of course. I understand.”

And she did. Even as hope and joy all withered within her breast, it could not fully erase the longing for more time with him.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Seated on the floor just outside her room and next to her door, Val stared at the opposite wall and thought about the meal that would be coming. And his surroundings. And . . . anything beyond the young lady singing softly to herself in the room at his back.