Page 15 of What a Widow Wants

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A brisk breeze buffeted Fanny and Elizabeth as they stood on the promenade, the horizon lightening in a gorgeous array of pinks and purples as dawn approached. Fanny wished for a thicker cloak as she eyed the sole bathing machine sitting on the deserted beach. What scheme had Matthew devised that could be called wicked? And by whom if no one else was there to see?

“Whoever believes sea bathing is good for the health obviously has not attempted it in such cold weather.” Elizabeth huddled next to her, her gloved hands clenched tightly, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

“It’s hard to believe, but many people sea bathe during the autumn months. The chilled water is invigorating.” Fanny tried to make her voice sound enthusiastic. When she’d gone bathing at the age of ten years old, she’d thought it a grand adventure and hadn’t minded the chilly water. Later, with Stephen, the weather had been much warmer. Now the sight of the dark gray waves and the brisk breeze on her exposed face filled her with dismay.

With a skeptical rise of her eyebrows, Elizabeth tugged her cloak closer. “I’d think you’d rather catch your death of cold.” She peered down the deserted promenade and nodded at an approaching figure. “I see Lord Lathbury has finally put in an appearance.”

The dapper figure, sporting a light-colored coat, tall hat, and walking stick strode briskly toward them.

Throwing back her shoulders and assuming an air of disinterest, Fanny peered down the deserted beach in the opposite direction. Her heartbeat quickened and she gripped the railing, determined not to let her excitement show as the sound of his footfalls increased.

“Good morning, ladies.”

The mellow voice sent a thrill through her. God, but he was an exciting man. Fixing a slight smile on her lips, Fanny turned to greet her suitor. “Good morning, my lord. I had almost begun to despair of you.”

“Come now, Fanny. You know me better than that.” His deep blue eyes sparkled in the brightening light. “When have I ever disappointed you?”

Well, he had her there. “There is a first time for everything.”

“Indeed. I do not think we shall see that today,” he said, with an enigmatic smile on his lips.

“Good morning, my lord.” Elizabeth nodded to him, then turned to Fanny. “If you are going to sea bathe, my dear, I propose you go to it before I freeze to this spot.”

“You do not intend to take the waters, Mrs. Easton?” Matthew eyed her gravely. “I understand the salt water is a marvelous cure for almost every ailment known to man.”

“Huh.” Her friend gave him a skeptical look. “I’d as soon put my head in a lion’s mouth, my lord. A quicker and warmer death to be sure. I’m amazed Lady Stephen is actually contemplating it.”

“Lady Stephen has agreed to it to humor me, Mrs. Easton.” His warm gaze fell on Fanny and the chill wind suddenly seemed to lessen.

“You made a promise to me, my lord.” She stared back at him boldly. “I am willing to endure the rigors of the water if that is what it takes to hold you to that promise.”

“I assure you I will make good on it in due time.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Although it is quite early, Mrs. Easton, I have knowledge of a certain bakery not far from here that opens at dawn just for the custom of those who accompany the early bathers. Shall I escort you there for a bit of breakfast while Lady Stephen prepares for her dip?”

Elizabeth’s face lit up as though she’d had a glimpse of heaven. “I would be most grateful, my lord. The breeze is picking up if I don’t miss my guess.” She shot a keen glance at Fanny. “Why don’t you abandon this foolish plan, Fanny, and come to the bakery with us? I am certain you could benefit just as much if not more from Lord Lathbury’s company there.”

A very tempting scheme. Every gust of wind seemed as a knife cutting right through her clothing. Perhaps bathing was foolhardy this morning. Surely Matthew could devise another way for her to be wicked and warm at the same time. She raised an eyebrow just a hair’s breadth and caught an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “You know I am that determined to see this through, Elizabeth. However, you can bring me a hot cross bun when you return.”

Shaking her head, Elizabeth took Matthew’s arm and they started down the promenade. “You’d best head to your bathing machine, my dear,” Matthew called over his shoulder. “Tempus fugit.”

The wretch had some mischief in mind, to be sure. But what on earth could it be? Best be off if she was to find it out. Drawing her cloak around her, Fanny sped down the stone staircase to the sandy beach and struck out for the wooden wagon awaiting her. The owner of the machine had apparently maneuvered it into position, let down the canvas hood into the water, then taken the horses and retired to some place inconspicuous. She’d ordered the machine for two hours, so he wouldn’t return for some time to come.

Gingerly, she approached the waves that lapped at the wheels of the cart. Just how bad was this going to be? She dipped her hand into the water, expecting her fingers to freeze like icicles. The water washed over her, chilly to be sure, but surprisingly less frigid than she’d expected. Perhaps the salt content lessened the shock. Still, she doubted she would enjoy this escapade as much as she had at ten.

Mounting the wooden stairs to the wagon, she gazed about the beach once more. Hers was still the only machine in the water, although another one had entered the beach to her left. She ducked into the wagon and shut the door. One did not want the other driver seeing more than he bargained for.

Now out of the wind, Fanny let her cloak drop off her shoulders and draped it over a chair set out to hold a bather’s clothes. A bathing costume hung behind it, but she’d not avail herself of it. One of the great pleasures of sea bathing was the chance to bathe nude in a semi-public place. Of course, no one could see you unless you hired a dipper to help you into the water. Still, having people scarcely more than a stone’s throw away from your naked body lent the whole proceeding a scandalously wicked feeling. Was that what Matthew had meant by being wicked? She certainly hoped not. She’d set her heart on doing something much more naughty than just bathing in the nude.

Slowly she disrobed, laying each piece of clothing carefully over the chair. Down to her shift, she sat on the edge of the chair to pull her garters and stockings off. Only one piece of clothing remained. She grasped the hem of her chemise, but the nearby jingle of a bridle and a shout of “Whoa, horse,” brought her to a halt. The bathing machine she’d seen entering the beach had apparently taken up residence directly beside her, despite the huge expanse of completely deserted sand stretching to either side of her.

Perhaps the lady inside was nervous and had instructed the driver to pull close to her for comfort. Not that she’d see the woman. Neither would the lady see her. The canvas cover over the rear of her wagon stretched into the water. The water came up over half of the ladder that would allow her to descend into the sea, so no prying eyes could get even a glimpse of her.

With a quick jerk, Fanny pulled her shift up and over her head, leaving her body splendidly naked to the cool air. Her nipples popped up immediately, the tips furled tight against the sudden chill. The dark circles around them puckered like gooseflesh. Her entire torso followed suit and she shivered, though the sensation thrilled her as well. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she rubbed her arms and back briskly. Get the blood pumping a bit faster before taking the plunge.

As she trailed her hands over her chilly skin, she suddenly imagined they were Matthew’s hands, bigger, stronger. With the wide pads of his fingers caressing every inch of her. Shivering, though not from the cold, she stroked her hands down over her belly, eyes closed, imagining his warm body close to hers. She skimmed her fingers back up to her breasts, her nipples hard as granite points. Was it wicked to want him here with her? To want his hands on her? To want him to make love to her? Did she want him enough to marry him?

That brought her out of her dazed dream. She might lust after Lord Lathbury. Lust heartily after him. But she wasn’t ready to commit her life to another man who could betray her as the last one had.