Page 72 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
“Nothing.” A lump lodged at the back of her throat. He’d come back.
He tilted his head quizzically but didn’t pry. “Sit. Let me clean you properly.”
Promptly, she sat. He closed the door, made his way over to her and set the steaming bowl on the dressing table. He dipped the end of the washcloth into the water and wrung it out, then carefully used it to wash any remaining trace of his seed from her face.
She closed her eyes and basked in the attention. When he was finished, she expected him to leave once again, but instead he picked up her hairbrush.
“May I brush your hair?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
She was surprised by the request—at the intimacy of it—but loved the idea. “You may.”
She held her breath as he unfastened the clips holding her hair in place and set them on the table one by one. She thought he’d be rough, but his fingers were surprisingly nimble.
When her hair was loose, he ran his fingers through it so that it flowed down her back, then he reached for her intricately carved wooden brush and began to drag it through her hair. The movement was gentle and soothing, and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the massage of the brush bristles over her scalp. Whenever he found a knot, he paused to undo it, always careful not to hurt her.
What a gentleman.
By the time he finished, her hair shone gold in the reflection, and she felt boneless.
“Can I hold you in bed?” he asked as he set the brush down and rested his hands on her shoulders. Their heat warmed her to her core, and she melted a little more.
“We haven’t had dinner yet,” she pointed out. Night hadn’t fully fallen.
He smiled. “Later, I’ll have them bring us something we can eat in bed.”
Ooh, she liked that idea. It was naughty and delicious and something she hadn’t done since she was a child unless she was unwell.
“Yes, please. I’ll call for Margaret. Do you need Barlow?”
“No.” He gave her shoulders a tender squeeze. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll undress you, and you can do the same for me.”
Her stomach flipped over, and she barely concealed her surprise. Undressing him seemed even more intimate than what they’d already shared. Never mind the idea of allowing him to undress her. But as intimidating as the concept was, her blood buzzed with anticipation. She wanted to strip him and see what else his clothing covered.
“I agree.” She moistened her lips. “May I undress you first?”
She would feel less exposed if he were already nude before he removed her dress and undergarments.
“Of course.”
She stood and circled the chair to stand before him. She surveyed him from head to toe. Earlier, he’d unwittingly shown her how the fastening on his trousers worked, and the buttons of his shirt were clear enough.
Hesitantly, she took his top button between her finger and thumb and slipped it through the opening. The neck of his shirt parted, revealing a strip of pale skin. She moved down to the next one, her fingers clumsy as she fumbled with it. He remained still, being patient with her as she worked her way down his front until the sides of his shirt separated and she could see from his collarbone to his navel.
Tentatively, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she studied his bare chest. He had pink nipples, just as she did, but they were much smaller. Dark hair dusted his chest and formed an arrow down to his groin. His abdomen was firmer than hers, and the musculature of his upper arms was far more prominent.
He shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off, and it fell to the ground. Kate’s gaze journeyed down his ropey forearms to his hands, and she noticed for the first time that his knuckles were slightly discolored, as if they’d been bruised and were in the process of healing. Had he been hurt somehow?
The need for answers burned inside her, but since the damage clearly wasn’t recent and she didn’t want to ruin the romantic atmosphere, she unfastened his trousers instead and watched as they dropped and pooled around the tops of his boots.
“Oh, dear,” she said faintly. “I didn’t think about those.”
He laughed. “We can manage. Let me just shuffle over to the bed so I can sit.”
With his ankles bound by the trousers, he awkwardly waddled to the bed and perched on the edge. Kate knelt in front of him and lifted the trousers off the laces of his boots. He took them from her and held them out of the way.
Kate studied the laces for a long moment before trying to untie them. It took several attempts, but finally, she was able to undo the knots and loosen the laces. She took hold of the boot and pulled it firmly. Thankfully, it came off with little effort. The second followed soon after, and he kicked off the trousers so that he was left in a pair of white drawers.
Kate giggled. “That didn’t go according to plan.”
