Page 22 of The Rebellious Countess
The smile in her voice was sad. “Just the lying sort.”
“Exactly. I am being honest when I tell you I will return you to Scotland with your maidenhead intact.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “May I open my eyes to sit down next to the tub?”
“Yes.”
Her arms covered her breasts from his view and her knees were bent obscuring her sex, just as he had described in his fantasy. “You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen.”
“Th-thank you, but you weren’t supposed to look.”
He bit back a smile and looked at the floor. “Of course. Forgive me. I have always found you entirely too diverting.”
He positioned the chair behind her head and spread his legs wide around the tub, almost as if he sat in the tub with her and the view became too tempting by far. He meant to steal a glimpse of the top of her breasts, but the bruising covering one of her delicate shoulders snared his attention more strongly than a trap could hold a wild boar. His hand was immediately drawn to it.
“Does it hurt?” he asked as he lightly traced the hues of blue and purple adorning her skin. “Can you wash your hair?” He was suddenly quite certain her injury would not allow her to raise her arms easily if the deep colors marring her flesh were any indication.
“No, I was going to ask the maid?—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Do you know how to wash a woman’s hair?” She looked over her shoulder and he quirked a brow at her question, then shook out his own hair.
She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I see.” She grinned and handed over the soap.
“I need you to scoot down and dunk your head.”
“Of course.” She disappeared under the water and when she came up, her arms were no longer covering her breasts, and she rose much higher than she’d been before. Elias tried not to look, he really did, but he was a starving man being tempted with cherries—bloody cherries. He wanted to eat all night long.
He cleared his throat. “You might want to sink down a bit. I need my eyes open for this part.”
“Oh.” If the lighting had been better, he would have probably compared the color of her cheeks and chest to be the color of his favorite fruit, but they were both saved from that imagery by the candle flickering on the other side of the screen.
He lathered the soap working the creamy foam in between his fingers before handing the bar back to her. He stopped a moment, uncertain if he could trust himself to touch her and not take her.
“If you would rather I ring for the maid?—”
“No. If I did that, our status of newlyweds would be put in question.”
“Oh.” There was a pain in her voice, and he suspected she misinterpreted his hesitation.
“I’m trying to get my body under control. You are the worst kind of temptation.”
She stiffened. “The worst kind?”
He squeezed his eyes closed. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant to say was, it is very hard not to touch you in other ways.”
“But you said you would show me, and I said you could show me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. That’s not something I can do and maintain the proper distance between us. But I will wash your hair for you.”
“I see,” she said, as she lathered up a sponge and began rubbing it across her nipples.
He hesitated, his gaze glued to what she was doing.
“I don’t want to leave you with cold water.”
