Page 45 of Their Master

Luke merely nodded at that comment, refusing to be drawn.

Although she’d known about the guards before coming to Smith’s house today, she’d learned about his security firsthand when she’d needed to give her personal information before getting close to the front door. Apparently only people whose names were on Smith’s pre-approved list were allowed to enter.

Luke tested the water. “How do you like it?”

“Hot.”

“Then this is perfect. Let me just help you with your chemise and we’ll get you in here.”

He lifted the garment over her head and carried it to the hamper. He was very tidy. In fact, the entire house was the neatest, cleanest place she’d ever seen.

He offered her his huge hand. “It’s easy to slip on the sides of this tub,” he explained at her quizzical look.

Moira took his hand and stepped into the big shell, lowering herself into the almost too-hot water with a sigh. “This is divine.”

“Would you like to relax for a while, or shall I wash your hair?”

“Oh, hair, please.” She’d been washing her hair in cold water and could never really seem to get it clean enough.

“This is a most unusual bathing chamber,” she said, as Luke pulled the rolling cart of vials, bottles, and jars closer.

“Bathing was one of Master Charles’s passions.”

“I can see it might become one of mine.”

He smiled. “If you don’t care to use the bath for any reason, there is a shower bath on the other side of your dressing room.” He poured a generous dollop of shampoo from a glass decanter and rubbed his large hands together.

Her eyes drifted shut as he massaged the shampoo into her scalp. Luke wasn’t just gorgeous; he was also incredibly skilled with his fingers. Moira became so relaxed that she’d almost drifted off to sleep when he stopped.

She lifted her heavy eyelids and watched as he reached for the tap, flipped a lever, and suddenly water came out of a device that was attached to a hose.

“How ingenious,” she murmured as he used the attachment to rinse the soap from her hair.

“It’s a marvelous convenience and Mr. Smith has even installed them in the servant quarters.”

That must have been quite an expense. Moira couldn’t see her mother doing the same thing for her employees, who were required to haul their water and share dungeon-like bathing chambers in the bowels of the ancient Paris building.

Luke turned off the water and poured something onto her head that smelled so good it made her salivate. “What is that delicious smell?”

“It is bergamot.” His fingers were firm yet gentle on her scalp, which was always sore from carrying around such a heavy pile of hair. She had once suggested cutting her hair shorter but Marie had vigorously protested.It’s the only attractive thing about you!

So, that had put an end tothat.

Luke’s hands moved to her neck and shoulders. Moira knew how to give sensual massages, but Luke was a master. She felt his touch in her very bones.

“Where did you learn such a skill?”

“I used to work at the Birch Palace.”

“Ah… I see.” Although she didn’t—not really.

“I was a whore, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Luckily the hot tub could account for her horribly flushed face. “And now you are a personal servant. That is quite a change of occupation.”

“It’s not so different,” he said. “Service is service, after all. I enjoyed my work at the Birch Palace, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to find anyone interested in a thirty-five-year-oldboy.”

Yes, Moira was familiar with that. At barely five feet and not quite seven stone she was small and girlish looking—if you didn’t examine her face too closely—but she was obviously a grown woman past the first flush of youth.

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