Page 72 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly.
“I thought you might prefer it,” he replied. “I will stay in here whilst you bathe, to give you some privacy.”
He walked over to the adjoining doors and closed them, muffling the distant rattles of the maid preparing Henrietta’s bath. He did not want anyone to disturb this unexpectedly tender moment between them.
As he made his way towards her once more, he picked her nightgown off the bed. She eyed it curiously.
“I do not plan to rest, my Lord Marquess,” she said. “I will bathe and then we will dine with my mother and father.”
“This is so I may check on your injuries,” he explained. “Wrap it around yourself, though leave your ribs exposed if you can. I must assess the damage myself, otherwise I will not be able to rest. You say you can manage this on your own, but your face would say different. You are in a great deal of pain, Henrietta. I can see that you are.”
“It is not appropriate, my Lord Marquess.”
“I do not care for propriety at this moment, My Lady. My sole concern is for your welfare.”
She dropped her gaze. “Turn your back.”
“As you wish.” He twisted around until he was facing the adjoining doors, listening out for the rustle of her dress as she removed it. He forced himself not to picture her in any untoward manner, no matter how difficult the task proved to be.
“I am ready,” she said quietly. He turned back towards her, to find her lying on her side, atop the chaise, with the nightgown wrapped around her chest. She had her petticoat on, but the flat line of her stomach was exposed, along with the delicate features of her collarbone and shoulders. She had draped one arm across her chest, to further conceal anything.
He knelt at her side and lifted his hands to the wounded portion of her ribcage. It was clear to see where the injury had taken place, for her skin was dappled with deep blues and grays, peppered with livid red and purples, the edges fading into yellow.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, pressing gently.
She winced. “Yes.”
“And this?” He moved down her ribs.
“Not as much.”
“And here?” He touched the curve where her left rib gave way to her diaphragm.
“No, it is only where you first pressed.”
The bruising was much darker there, the skin almost black. Before he knew what he was doing, he lifted her fingertips to his lips and kissed them, before pressing a secondary kiss lightly to the damaged ribs. She froze for a split second, before her body relaxed at his touch. He did the same for the second and third of the bruised ribs, being careful to include every injury.
“Am I a child, to have my hurt kissed away?” she asked, her tone slightly teasing. He glanced at her, his heart thudding hard as he noted the twinkly spark in her eyes.
“That depends—is it working?”
“It makes it easier to forget that I have been injured.”
He traced his fingertips there again, smoothing his thumb across the unsettling pattern that the bruise had caused. It looked so stark against the pale complexion of her side. Indeed, he truly wished he could kiss it all away.
“And if I were to tell you that my lips smarted?” she said, her expression shy.
“I would have to kiss them, too.” He smiled nervously. “Tell me, Henrietta, do they hurt?”
She nodded. “A small pain.”
He leaned over, bracing himself against the edge of the chaise. Tentatively, he cupped her face in his free hand, wondering if he ought to. She had invited him to kiss her, and yet, he wasn’t sure what to do. If he kissed her now, would that change everything? Would that desecrate the memory of the love he had lost?
All of a sudden, she reached up and looped her arms around his neck. The jolt pulled him forward, his mouth catching hers quite by accident. He did not move for what seemed like a lifetime, his thoughts all over the place. And then, despite everything, the world fell away from him. He pulled her closer to him, careful not to hurt her further, and closed his eyes. Thinking only of her, he sank into the graze of her lips against his.
Chapter 28
Henrietta lay in the tin bath and touched her fingertips to her lips, the phantom pressure of Ewan’s kiss still lingering on them. She had not expected it, but it had not been an unpleasant experience. In fact, it had been quite the opposite.
