Page 153 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“My lady? Are you ready for your bath? Oh!” Dottie stops in her tracks when she sees Ash bent over me, and how close we are.

“She’s ready,” Ash replies easily, and the emotion choking his voice only a second ago is gone. “Would it help if I carried her?”

“Oh! Well, I . . . yes, yes, my lord. It would be of great help.”

Ash scoops me up as though I don’t weigh twice what I normally do in this gown. He takes me into the washroom with its tangled overgrowth along the walls, ceiling, and even floors. As soon as he crosses the threshold, he frowns, glancing around as if trying to decide where to put me.

“You should put me in the bath,” I say from where my head rests against the column of his neck. The bath is so sudsy and inviting, with steam coming off the top of the water. At this moment, it looks so relaxing I think I could drown in it and still be happy.

“Fully clothed? In your gown?” Ash tsks his tongue and kicks out a stool, dragging it with his foot toward us. He gently sets me on it, holding me up with his hands on my shoulders so I don’t pitch forward.

“Couldn’t you have given me poison that makes me extra strong?” I whine, hating how my limbs refuse to obey me, no matter how many mental commands I give them.

“I should have, shouldn’t I?” he replies, another hint of a smile in his voice. Then, letting me lean forward on one arm, he sets to undoing the tiny buttons down my back with one hand. My eyes widen in surprise. A hot flush climbs up my neck. I didn’t even think I could muster one while poisoned. Well, here we are!

Dottie enters and shuts the door, mumbling her thanks under her breath. She kneels in front of me, confiscates my last shoe, and then sets to taking down my elaborate updo. All while Ash steadily makes his way down the buttons lining my spine.

I’m not sure whether to be more grateful or embarrassed to have two people helping me undress. I think I would rather have it be two maids . . . or just Ash. Not this mix of Dottie and Ash. Because with each moment, I’m so aware of all the lines Ash and I haven’t crossed, lines that—if I’m honest—I long to. I want to discover what it is to be fully and completely his wife. Part of me is afraid I never will.

Ash reaches the last button, undoes it with a slip of his fingers. Then, to my shock, while Dottie is turned away setting hairpins on the counter, he runs his knuckles in a scalding line down my exposed spine. My breath snags. The heat in my cheeks redoubles.

Then she is back, and I try to not look like a naughty child caught stealing a forbidden cookie.

Behind me, I can almostfeelthe beginning of Ash’s smirk. I suppose if my tomato red face cheers him up, I can put up with feeling a little dizzy in addition to having no strength in my body.

She removes my gloves, and the moment she turns away to set them down, Ash leans forward and nibbles my ear. I barely restrain my gasp.

“Would it be best if I held her up so we can get the gown off?” Ash asks her.

“Yes, my lord. That would be easiest.”

A bolt of panic hits me, sharper than I expect. I’m not wearing much beneath this gown, and this isn’t how I want him to see me for the first time. I want him to see me when I feel beautiful, not when I can barely hold my head up and my skin is cast a horrible hue of gray.

“Let’s finish taking her hair down first,” Ash says. He probably feels how stiff I’ve gone against him. Perhaps he knows why, perhaps he doesn’t. But once all my hair is free from its pins and tiara and other decorations, he takes its long locks and arranges so it falls down my back and chest all the way to my hips.

He is discretely covering me so I will not feel so exposed.

My throat thickens.

He presses a kiss to the back of my head, then gently takes me under my armpits and lifts me enough off the stool so Dottie can shimmy the gown down my torso, hips, then legs. He sets me back down, and the stool is cool against the thin fabric of my undergarments. Self-consciously, I wrap my arms across my chest, only to find that my hair is doing a surprisingly good job of keeping me decent.

Dottie gathers the gown up in her arms and carries it out of the washroom.

For a moment, we’re left alone.

Ash’s breath caresses my ear as he leans close to me. “You have nothing to be afraid of, darling wife. I will not do anything against your will.”

“It’s not my will I’m concerned about!” I blurt, without thinking.

“Yes?” he prods, his tone almost painfully gentle.

Footsteps outside make me stiffen, and I barely have time to say: “I don’t want you to see me when I’m all gray!”

Then Dottie is back.

“If you wouldn’t mind lifting her once more, Highness,” she asks.

Ash obliges. I restrain a whimper when she strips off my undergarments and I’m left wearing nothing but my long silver hair. Except the next second, I’m swept up in Ash’s arms and lowered into the steaming bath and its mountains of bubbles.

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