Page 96 of The Beast of Beswick
“Good. Have the cook prepare some food. And thank you, Fletcher. For everything,” he added.
It had been his longtime valet and friend who had made him realize what a stubborn fool he was being. Not so succinctly, but his clever mention of Lady Hammerton, her reputation for wild balls, Astrid, and randy males in the same sentence had made Thane see reason, among other things.
His cheeks went ruddy. “My pleasure, Your Grace.”
In the well-lit bathing room, he lay Astrid on the sofa and then proceeded to undress her, starting with her gloves.
“Thane?” Astrid asked sleepily. “Oh, we’re home,” she said, her eyes adjusting and recognizing the room. “What were you doing?”
“Undressing you,” he said. “I thought perhaps a swim might be soothing. The water is heated and salted. Unfortunately, Alice is in London. I can get one of the upper maids to assist with your garments, if you prefer.” Aware that he was babbling, he sealed his lips.
She slid her palm over his and squeezed. “I confess I’ve been intrigued ever since the first time I saw you in here.”
“And the time when you didn’t,” he said. “I saw you, though. I was consumed by lust watching you dip these perfect feet in.”
She glanced around at the cozy sitting area that comprised two large, overstuffed sofas; an armchair; and a low table. “I didn’t even realize this section was here.”
A discreet knock on the outer doors had Thane on his feet, but it was only Fletcher with a tray of food. Thane thanked him and returned, sustenance in hand. Astrid’s stomach growled loudly, and she giggled.
“I’m ravenous,” she said, reaching for a piece of crusty bread and some cheese as he lowered the tray to the table. They didn’t talk as she filled a small plate with the offerings on the tray—some cold chicken, along with fresh fruit and a warm meat pie. Thane wasn’t hungry, but he watched her eat her fill.
“I was famished,” she said, licking her fingers clean with a sigh. He forced himself to behave at the sight of those elegant fingers disappearing into her mouth, but his body had other ideas. Time had not dulled his infatuation with her hands. “I only had a bit of Aunt Mabel’s whiskey on the way to North Stifford after luncheon at Harte House.”
“She’s a terrible influence.”
“She’s wonderful,” Astrid declared loyally, but then she giggled again. “Do you know she embroiders male organs?”
Thane coughed as his mouthful went down the wrong way.
“The phallus,” she added casually, as if he didn’t know what a bloody male organ was. His own eavesdropping organ perked up in his trousers. “Penis, if we’re being pedagogic,” she went on thoughtfully.
He choked, unsure if his arousal was because of the first word or the last. He must be the only man on the planet who found his wife’s brain darkly erotic. “Astrid, you cannot say such things.”
“Why? You are my husband.”
“Because, my little tease, you are driving me—and my variously named male parts—to purgatory.”
She rose to her feet with a grin. “Good, now come and finish undressing me. I cannot breathe in these stays. And I don’t want to be forced to use the filthy words I’ve read that describe male parts to get you to obey.”
Thane swallowed hard. He wanted to hear all the foul words falling from her sweet lips, but he wanted her disrobed more. She toed off her slippers while his fingers fumbled at the tiny cloth-covered buttons down the curve of her spine. Before too long, the gorgeous midnight-blue gown pooled into a puddle at her feet. He unlaced her stays and stared at the soft transparent linen, the outline of her body a fascinating shape beneath it, before kneeling to untie her garters and roll down her stockings.
“Will you undress as well?” she whispered.
Everything inside of him shut down.
Going to the ball and baring his heart in a public courtyard had been child’s play compared to this moment. Thane felt the familiar sickness rise in his chest at the thought of what she was asking and the horror that lay under his clothing. It was too bright, much too bright. He couldn’t extinguish the hearths—they threw too much light. His body poised to flee, and then Astrid placed a hand on his cheek.
“You don’t have to, darling.”
Thane felt like a leaf caught in a storm. He was terrified, but he didn’t want any more walls between them. And to do that, he would have to drop his.Allof them.
Slowly, without a word, he unbuttoned his coat and then his waistcoat. He shucked off his boots and stockings and pulled off his cravat. All the while, she watched him, her eyes never leaving his, sending him silent assurances that she was there. His hands shook as he pulled his shirt over his head. He heard her soft gasp, and he shut his eyes, only to feel her warm arms sliding about him and holding him tight. It wouldn’t be an easy sight to bear, not even for a seasoned veteran of war, but she did not flinch. Not when she would have seen the tattered mass of his back and side, the gouges and missing chunks, and the grisly tapestry that bound it all. He was not fit for a lady’s eyes.
“I love you,” she whispered, her lips kissing the ugly scar that ran down the entire left side of his rib cage. “I love you so much.”
And Thane wanted to weep. His hands crept around her—this slip of a woman who healed him in so many ways—and he felt whole. He feltloved.
After a while, she released him, and the saucy minx lifted her eyebrow. “You’re not going to stop there, are you?”
