A Valentine from Harlequin

though. I think if I shave a little more off the front, we’ll be there. Then you can finish calibrating the lever.”
    She nodded thoughtfully. “Good, that’s very good. We should have just enough time.”
    He turned back to his work and she called to him again.
    “Alistair? Would you bring me a drink of water?”
    He swallowed a groan. Just when he started to get a grip on his emotions she needed him for something. And all of those things seemed to require his closeness. Adjusting the position of her wrists, moving her hair from her face, straightening her skirts. The day before when she was free, she’d even removed her corset. Now every time he looked at her, he had to will himself not to let his eyes drift to her torso, where her dusky nipples peaked against her petticoat. It was almost as if she was trying to torture him…almost as if—
    His thoughts came to a screeching halt as the pieces finally fell into place. That little minx. She was trying to seduce him.
    He’d wanted her for so long that the constant, grinding need had become standard. It had taken him all day to recognize that maybe it wasn’t just his natural reaction to her. She was actually instigating it. His heart thumped against his ribs as he tried to piece it all together. Surely, he’d lost his chance when she’d asked for his hand last year and he had denied her? He’d been relegated to the role of “colleague” for God’s sake. But it seemed that, despite having found a quick understudy for her affections, she hadn’t completely given up on him.
    If nearly losing Charlotte twice—both times to Rotham, in one manner or another—had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t want to face another day without her.
    Now to see if his suspicions were correct.
    He bit back a grin and picked up the jug of water. “Coming right up.”
    He strolled over to the stool and poured some water into the cup on the floor beside her. She smiled her thanks and tipped her head to drink as he put the cup to her lips. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he angled the cup, causing water to course down her chin in a river, soaking the front of her petticoat. “Well, look at you now. I’ve gotten you all wet. Let me…” He stripped off his shirt in a few quick motions.
    Her eyes went wide and her mouth trembled as she stared at his chest. It took all he had to pretend he didn’t notice her gaze as he bent and began to wipe the water away with his shirt. First her chin, then down the long line of her white neck, then lower. She gasped as his fingertips brushed the swell of her bare bosom.
    He locked eyes with her and all thoughts of teasing her vanished. He let the shirt fall to the floor and leaned close enough to feel the wash of her breath against his lips.
    Footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs and he jerked back. Alistair let out a string of curses as he slid on his shirt and began to fasten the buttons. “He’s early. Must be getting anxious.”
    Just as he finished righting his clothes and returned to the worktable, Rotham walked in carrying a tray with food and his ever-present derringer.
    “How goes it?”
    “Almost complete,” Charlotte said, her voice still husky. It sent a bolt of lust straight to Alistair’s groin and he shifted uncomfortably.
    Rotham didn’t seem to notice. He merely grunted in satisfaction. “Good. Eat something. I’ll be back in six hours, then. I believe I may have been recognized this morning and I need to leave as soon as possible.” He set the tray of food down with a clatter. “The purviewers had better be ready upon my return. I will accept no excuses.”
    He kept the pistol trained on Charlotte as he unchained her. Despite his fury, Alistair docilely took her place. He briefly considered making a move now, if only to get Rotham to take the gun out of her face, but took a steadying breath. They had a plan and six hours to implement it. Soon, they would be free and this would all be a memory.
    Rotham took his leave and closed the door behind him. The silence was thick as Charlotte pinned him with her gaze.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    His eyes drifted unconsciously to the still-damp cloth covering her breasts and he nodded. “Famished.”
    She carried the tray over, hips swaying as she moved. She knelt before him and he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. How many times had he imagined her thusly? Did the witch even know what she was about? As he met her heavy-lidded gaze once again, he