“Because the cure isn’t very pleasant tasting, and the brandy will mask the taste. Drink it. You will feel much better in only, oh, fifteen minutes or so. Just enough time for me to take a quick bath.”

The thought of her in his large tub had him gulping down her concoction to set it aside. “I’ll join you—if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” She smiled down at him. “If you will promise to keep your hands to yourself until you are feeling no more pain.”

He sighed. “Never mind, I’ll suffer here—er, wait here for you.”

She nodded, leaned over to kiss his brow, then paused to whisper by his ear, “Good things come to those who wait, Christoph.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to her that his name wasn’t that foreign-sounding Christoph, but he chose instead to savor the sight of those magnificent breasts that had come so close to his mouth when she leaned over him. He heard the door to the bathroom close and sighed again. But it wasn’t long before he was fantasizing about her in that decadent bathroom.

It was the only room in the entire house that didn’t fit the current decor and had been a complete surprise to him, on his first inspection of the estate. It was as if some puritan of the last century had decorated the house, but that single room had been hidden from them and so left intact. It was ancient Roman in design, huge, with a sunken tub that could easily fit six adults, entered by marble steps, surrounded by Grecian columns. Naked gold cherubs formed the waterspouts on the tub and the ornate sink.

He would bathe with her in there, and before they left for London. London . . . which reminded him, where the deuce was he going to keep her until he could find a suitable place for her? The servants in his town house couldn’t be trusted not to gossip about her. Here in the country it hardly mattered; servant gossip didn’t travel that far. But in London it certainly did, and he didn’t care to have it run through the mills that he’d been bewitched by a Gypsy, despite the fact that it was absolutely true.

The door opened. She came back into the room as naked as when she’d left it. She came straight to the bed. She kneeled on it, threw back the sheet, then kneeled over him. He sucked in his breath at her boldness as she settled herself to sit on his loins. Her hip-length hair, which had graced her sides, curled on his belly in front of her.

“How is your headache?” she asked matter-of-factly, as if he weren’t mesmerized by her actions.

“What headache?”

She smiled at that answer. “Any regrets, Christoph?”

He chuckled and moved his hips against her. “You must be joking.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean beyond what we are about to do. I know I can make you happy. I just wonder if you regret what fate has dealt you. I certainly do not.”