Page 61 of The Scent of Intuition
In just a few hours, she was to meet with the prince. The thought should have filled her with anticipation, but instead, her mind drifted to the man in the room next door. This was where he bathed. His chiseled neck, his muscular abdomen—images of him towering over her in the Orangery that brought her senses alive came to mind and the idea of his being naked in this very tub.
As she reclined further, the water lapped gently at her skin, creating ripples that mirrored the sensations within her. Her fingers brushed lightly across her abdomen, exploring the forbidden territory. She closed her eyes, recalling every detail of Alfie’s form. His presence stirred something deep within her, something that Pippa’s words had awakened but hadn’t fully ignited.
The sound of footsteps outside her door broke her reverie. Bea quickly retracted her hand, her heart racing. The footsteps faded, leaving a silence that seemed louder than before. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm the erratic pounding in her chest.
Her thoughts returned to Alfie, lingering on the way he looked at her with a mix of curiosity and something more primal. His gaze had lingered a bit too long on her lips before he’d left her for the bath, and she remembered the way his breath had hitched when she’d accidentally brushed against him on the way up the stairs only minutes earlier. Did he feel the same pull she did?
She couldn’t afford to think this way until they could speak freely again. Not with the meeting tonight, not with the responsibilities that lay ahead. But alone in the bath, surrounded by the comforting scents and warmth, it was hard to focus on anything else. She wanted him in every way imaginable.
Bea’s fingers trailed through the water, drawing patterns that dissolved almost instantly. The sensation was calming, yet the tension in her middle remained. She thought again of Pippa’swords, about finding pleasure. Was it wrong to seek it? To want something just for herself amid the duties and expectations that constrained her every move?
The warmth of the bath was beginning to dissipate, but Bea stayed submerged, unwilling to leave the cocoon of solace it provided. She glanced at the small window, where the last light of day was fading, casting a soft glow on the walls. Evening was approaching, and soon she would have to prepare for her encounter with the prince. He would check off all her criteria except for the one she cared about most: love and passion.
So for now, she allowed herself a few more minutes of indulgence. The floral and nutty scents continued to surround her, a sensory embrace that made her feel cherished, if only briefly. She thought of Alfie again, imagining his hands where hers had been, his touch igniting a fire that no amount of warm water could quench.
*
A few minuteslater, Alfie heard a clatter coming from the bathroom. The lush, creamy scent of rose wafted into his bed chamber. He could feel the warmth of the oil, an enticing note of a soft, ripe fruitiness, and the undertone of nutty sweetness.
Alfie pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, hoping he could ground himself in the task at hand. Folding.
Yes.
Good idea. He had to fold his bed sheets.
Easy.
He pulled a corner of the sheet over to the other side, pairing it with its counterpart to… what was that?
A slight splashing and a moan?
He stilled and listened.
Another light moan—no, more of a sigh.
He knocked on the door. “Is everything all right?”
No answer.
He knocked louder.
“Bea?”
Another little splash and much louder moan.
Oh no! Could she be in trouble? In the bathtub?
He’d never heard of a grown woman drowning in the tub, but his years of medical training taught him to expect anything.
Had he made the water too hot for her?
Could she have grown dizzy? He’d made her swoon once before and caught her, but this time, she was in water.
Perhaps she was in trouble after all.
“Bea?” Alfie called, laying his hand on the door as if he could feel her pulse through the thick wood. Yet another feminine sigh escaped the bathroom.
Without thinking of propriety, he turned the knob and went in. The aroma of the bath oil enveloped him like a spell he’d laid upon the room. Even though it was just a small room, furnished to be functional and without decoration, it was a clean canvas for the most sensual image he’d ever seen.
