And she certainly hadn’t lost her looks. The woman standing before him in the halo of golden lamplight was nothing short of stunning. The combination of high cheekbones and full lips lent her an exotic yet delicate beauty. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but given her porcelain skin and upswept honey-blond hair, he’d wager blue. He found himself wondering if they’d more resemble a cloudless summer sky or a stormy sea. Or perhaps a shard of ice.

All thoughts of ice vanished in the next instant when she unfastened her cloak. The garment slid from her shoulders to reveal that she wore only a chemise. A wet chemise. A wet chemise that clung to her body as if it had been painted on her skin-with transparent paint.

Simon’s breath halted, and for several seconds he completely forget where he was. Who she was. And how much was at stake. His conscience-an inner voice he’d bludgeoned into silence long ago-unexpectedly coughed to life and informed him that honor and decency demanded he avert his gaze. He immediately consigned his conscience back to the depths from where it had crawled and kept his eyeballs steadfastly trained on the vision before him. After all, she was a person of suspicion. For reasons he’d yet to discover, she’d taken what he’d come to steal before he could rob her of it-the letter that would save his life. It was imperative he learn all he could about her.

And God knows he was learning plenty, given the way that wet material clung to her. His gaze roamed slowly downward, lingering over her firm, full breasts topped with erect nipples. The curve of her waist flared to generous hips then tapered to shapely thighs. The curls between her legs were the same golden honey shade as her hair.

Clearly Mrs. Ralston had indulged in a dip in the hot springs. It was well documented that taking the waters was good for the body, and she absolutely was testament to that.