Page 71 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“I will consider having dinner once I have bathed, Mama.”
“Did you mention bruising?” Aaron asked, his brow furrowed.
“I did.”
“Have you been hurt?”
She tried hard not to roll her eyes. “I tumbled from my horse, that is all. I should like to attend to my injuries, to make sure there is nothing too severe occurring.”
“Shall we send for a physician?”
Henrietta shook her head. “It is nothing I cannot deal with myself, Papa. You see, those books have come in handy at last.”
“But you will dine with us?” Tabitha urged, sensing that a more serious dispute was about to begin. Talk of those medical journals was always bound to add flames to a still-burning fire.”
“I will contemplate it whilst I bathe.” Without another word, she headed down the main hallway and up the stairs to her room. Ewan followed close behind her, though he did not say anything. She was grateful for that, for she did not need to be made to feel guilty when she was in such pain.
* * *
“You did not tell me it was so serious,” Ewan said, as the door closed firmly behind them. He stood in Henrietta’s side of the adjoining chambers, where a fire had been laid to warm them through the cold evening.
“It is nothing I cannot endure,” she assured him, though her face twisted up in a mask of agony as she attempted to sink down on the chaise. She clutched at her side, a thin sheen of perspiration gathering on her forehead.
He walked over to her and knelt at her feet, lifting his hand to her head to check her temperature. A worrying heat touched his skin. “You are feverish, My Lady.”
“I will be well enough. I just… I just need to catch my breath.” Every time she drew oxygen into her lungs, he could see how greatly she suffered.
“Do not think me impolite, but might it have something to do with your corset?” he asked, his throat constricting. He had sworn not to touch her, but if she needed his help, he would not pull away.
She grimaced. “It is restricting me somewhat.”
“Turn to the side,” he instructed her gently.
A surprised look crossed her face. However, she did as he had asked, turning her body to the side and bringing herself closer to the edge of the chaise. Still kneeling before her, he reached up to the buttons that lined the back of the marigold dress. His fingers worked deftly, showing no hint of nerves, though his heart was pounding in his chest.
Carefully, he pulled the two sides apart and slid them to the farthest tip of her shoulders, exposing her back. A half-corset sat across her ribcage, the ties bound tight. Slowly, he reached his hands up, tracing his fingertips across the smooth, pale skin between her shoulder-blades.I am merely helping her with her injury, nothing more.
“Your hands are cold,” she murmured, her gaze turned towards the fire.
“Sorry,” he whispered, blowing onto his hands to warm them up before returning them to the smooth expanse of her bare skin. She did not stiffen or balk at his touch.
Trying to ignore the intimacy of the moment, he took the ties of her half-corset and began to unlace them. He could feel every breath she took, hearing the ragged draw of each one as he loosened the corset. To him, it appeared like a torture device, restricting her ribs in such a savage way. He understood why ladies used them, but Henrietta had a lovely figure without it.
Stop… you must not think of her in that way.
The moment reminded him of one he had shared with Patricia, a few days after their wedding night. They had been more comfortable with one another then, more attuned to each other’s thoughts and desires. He had unlaced her corset in this manner and had placed the tenderest of kisses on the curve of her neck. He wanted to do the same to Henrietta, but he could not bring himself to lean in and touch his lips to her skin. He had vowed not to.
Soon, the half-corset was unlaced in its entirety. With steady hands, he slipped it out from beneath her dress, allowing her to maintain her dignity as he cast it to one side. He removed his hands quickly, folding them behind his back.
A knock at the door shattered the strange tension between them. Ewan rose and crossed the room, answering it with some annoyance. His mind was racing, his thoughts uncertain.
“My Lord, Mr. Chambers has sent me up to draw a bath for your lady wife,” the maid on the other side explained.
He nodded. “Have it set up in the other room.”
“Very good, My Lord.” With that, she scurried off to the other door.
Taking a shaky breath, Ewan turned back and looked at his wife, perched on the edge of the chaise with her back elegantly bent half towards him. He swallowed, unable to deny her beauty in the firelight. She looked otherworldly, her chin tilted up, the flames flickering in her blue eyes.
