Chapter Sixteen
Eden had grown accustomed to hearing Tha?s grumbling and swearing, but usually it came from the parlor, not through the open window. And usually, she did not do it in a screech.
He jumped up and looked outside.
She was limping toward the house, covered from neck to feet in mud.
He bolted out the door and into the garden just as she kicked open the gate.
“What happened?” he cried, rushing toward her.
“What does it look like happened?” she said.
And then she began to cry. “Shit,” she wailed. “Shit, shit, shitting fuck.”
He winced, but could not blame her in this instance for the expletives. Shitting fuck, indeed.
“Stop gawping at me,” she said. She used one of her knuckles to wipe her tears away, and it left a smear of mud on her face. She wailed, and then sneezed, and then wailed louder. “I hate it here!”
He had no idea what to do. He rummaged in his pocket and produced his handkerchief.
“Hold still,” he said, wiping the mud off her cheek.
“Some good that’ll do.” She sniffled.
“Poor thing,” he said and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, rapidly searching for some way to handle this.
The dress.
First, she needed to remove the muddy dress. And then she could wash. Which meant he should pump water from the well. And it would be more comfortable for her to wash up if it were warm, so he should light a fire.
“Stop bloody gawping at me,” she said again, with more emphasis.
“Sorry,” he said. “Come. Let’s get you clean.”
“How? You don’t have a tub.”
“I’ll warm some water for you.”
“It’s in my bloody hair,” she said. “You’ll have to wash it for me.”
He had no idea how to do so, but he did not wish to upset her further. “Of course. Come with me to the back garden.”
She limped behind him. He slowed his pace and offered her his arm. “Lean against me.”
She refused the gesture. “No use in you getting filthy too.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I want to help you.”
“I can walk on me damned own,” she said in her most alley-child accent.
She was still crying. He wanted to press her to his chest and hold her... though, ideally, when she was clean.
They reached the terrace outside the kitchen door. “You’ll need to undress before going inside,” he said. “Or else we’ll coat the kitchen in mud.”
She glared at him. “Oh, how awful for the kitchen.” She began clawing at the laces of her bodice.
“Oh, uh...” he said. “Shall I give you some privacy? I’ll go find you something clean to wear.”
“No use in wearing something clean when I’ll just get it dirty. Stay here and help me.”
“Help you... undress?”
She was untying her bodice, taking care not to get mud on her undergarments.
“Yes,” she said. “Are my stays dirty?”
He had no idea, because he had averted his eyes to avoid the sight of her bosoms covered by so little.
“Eden!” she snapped. “Now is not the time for modesty. Are my stays muddy?”
He forced himself to look.
She was resplendent. Utterly resplendent.
And, miraculously, her undergarments were clean.
“No, they’re not muddy,” he said.
“Then unlace them for me. My hands are dirty.”
The laces were in front, below her breasts. He would have to touch her intimately to help her.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” he objected.
“I’m your bloody mistress,” she snapped. “It’s about time you undress me. Will you insist your wife stay dressed up to the neck while you rut away at her?”
He objected to the idea he would rut away at anyone, but Tha?s was right. He could not continue to flinch from nudity.
Or from touching her, for that matter.
But he needed a moment to prepare himself. He held up a finger. “First, let me pump water for you and put it on the fire. Stay put.”
“Where do you think I’m going to go? To the damned butcher shop with me arse covered in mud and my tits out?”
“Right,” he said, knowing he was absurd. “I’ll be quick.”
He hastened over to the well, pumped two buckets of water and lugged them back to the terrace, where Tha?s was standing with her arms out so as not to get her stays dirty.
“Hurry,” she said.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Apologies, I know you’re uncomfortable.”
He dashed inside and poured the water into an assortment of smaller pots, so that they’d heat up as quickly as possible.
When he went back outside, Tha?s had, thankfully, stopped crying.
“There,” he said. “All done. May I—?” He gestured at her stays.
“Of course you bloody may. Get them off me.”
He approached her, trying not to reveal his trepidation. She sighed. “It’s not complicated, Your Lordship. Just untie the damn laces.”
There was no way for his hands not to brush her breasts as he did so. Soft and full and heavy. He longed to cup them in his palms.
That he could—that she was impatient for him to—embarrassed him. His fingers shook a bit, making him clumsy.
He could feel her breathing, and the intimacy of it made him blush.
“I’m sorry,” he said, instinctively.
“Oh stop,” she said. “You’re doing nothing wrong, just get it done.”
He worked his way down, drawing the strings out of one loop, then the next. It had never occurred to him how complicated women’s clothing was.
Finally, the garment was unlaced. Tha?s held up her arms so he could take it off her.
Which left her standing in her shift.
It was nearly transparent in the sunlight. He could make out her nipples, which were hard. She was cold. He needed to be faster, for her comfort.
“Now untie my skirt,” she said, gesturing at the hidden ribbons tucked against her waist.
This task was at least less finicky. He undid the strings and helped pull the skirt over her hips, so she could step out of it. Which left her standing in her stockings, boots, and shift—all of it dirty from her shins down to the soles of her feet.
“I’ll have to strip down to my bare skin,” she grumbled.
She leaned down to unlace her dirty boots, giving him an inviting view of her buttocks. He’d never noticed a woman’s rear before, but Tha?s’s, which was broad and round, set off by her generous hips, made an uproar of his loins. Her curves were absolutely luscious. So luscious he was going to become visibly aroused if he did not collect himself.
“The water should be warm enough to wash your hands and arms,” he said. “I’ll go inside and get some for you.”
She grumbled her assent, still attempting to kick off her boots. He went into the kitchen to collect a pot, a cloth, and a bar of soap.
When he went back outside, she was standing in the garden completely nude.
“Tha?s,” he yelped. “What in God’s name? Someone will see you.”
“No one can see me over the hedges,” she said. “Except you.”
He was not entirely certain this was true, and he could not bring himself to even fathom the calamity that would befall him if rumors that his so-called sister was prancing about naked out of doors reached the tiny village.
“Come in at once,” he hissed.
She rolled her eyes but did as he asked, leaving a pile of dirty clothes in a heap on the terrace.
“Wash your hands,” he said. “I’ll go get you something to wear.”
He darted out of the room, went upstairs to her bedchamber, and pawed through the garments in her wardrobe. Of course, there was nothing suitable for her to change into except her one clean dress, which would not do until she’d bathed. He would not give her the satisfaction of bringing her one of her transparent robes. He went across the hall and retrieved a clean nightshirt of his own.
When he got back into the kitchen, she was bent over naked, that gorgeous rump up in the air as she scrubbed dirt off her legs. He tossed the shirt on the table, averting his eyes.
“You can put this on while you dry off, so you’re not cold. I’ll give you privacy.”
She let out a very long, very frustrated sigh.
“I need help, not privacy. There’s mud in my hair.”
She popped up and tossed her long mane of red curls, which was indeed caked here and there with clumps of drying mud.
“I can’t wash my own hair without a tub. You’ll have to help me. And I’m not putting on a damned shirt just to get it filthy with muddy water.”
This was reasonable.
It was also impossible.
He stared at the table trying to find the words to explain that he could not help her when she walked over to him and took him by the chin with her damp hand. She tilted up his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers.
“I need your help, love.”
She needed him. It was his duty to help a woman in need.
Especially her.
He was being an arse.
“Of course,” he said instantly. “I’m sorry, I’m just...”
“Nervous,” she finished.
He nodded.
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t be. It’s just a naked woman. And she doesn’t mind your eyes on her.”
She took his hands and put them on her bare shoulders. “Or you touching her.”
It felt so wonderful to touch her skin, so warm, so intimate. He stroked her with his thumbs, nodding.
She smiled. “Care to touch me lower?”
God, he wanted to. But if he did, he would become indecent. He was already becoming indecent. And if anyone was going to notice, comment, and take advantage of that, it would be Tha?s.
He almost, almost wanted her to.
But there was still that sliver of... What was it? Not fear, per se, but an anxiety that he would reveal himself to be inadequate. That he’d hurt her, or be clumsy, or in some way disappoint her.
That he would fail.
Nothing diminished his arousal like that fear.
“Let’s wash your hair,” he said. “Tell me what to do.”
“It’s not hard. Just bend me over the sink and pour water over my head to get my hair wet. Then wash out the muddy bits with soap, and rinse it out.”
Bend me over the sink. Good Lord.
“Very well. Let’s see if the water is a comfortable temperature.”
He picked up the largest of the pots he’d warmed and brought it to the sink for her to test. She dipped her finger in it. “Perfect.”
“Good to hear it.”
Good to hear it?Why had he said that? Why was he being so bloody unnatural?
“Ready?” he asked.
Tha?s nodded and leaned over the sink, so that her rump was spread out before him like a heart. Her cascade of hair fell down into the basin.
The only way to wash it was to stand close behind her, so his groin lined up directly with the small of her back.
He got as close to her as he could without brushing against her and was thankful he had long arms so he could reach her hair without leaning into her.
Carefully, he poured water out of the pot and over her head.
“Is that all right?” he asked.
“It’s getting in my nose,” she said with a snort.
“Sorry. Here, I’ll just work on getting out the dirt.”
He took the bar of soap and rubbed a lather into one of the clumps of mud. He had to massage it with his fingers to break it up.
“I’m going to rinse it out,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
She nodded, and he poured water over the strands, letting mud rain down into the sink until it ran clean.
Fine. That wasn’t so hard. He just had to do it... eight more times.
“I’m afraid this might take a while. You’re very dirty.”
“Damn right I am,” she said in a flirtatious tone, waggling her arse. Obviously, her mood was improving.
The waggling closed the distance between them. Her buttocks brushed against the front of his breeches. The decent thing to do would be step away, but bending over at such an angle was beginning to hurt his lower back. He gritted his teeth and took the next clump of hair to wash it out. He worked methodically, scrubbing, rinsing, scrubbing, until all the mud was gone.
“There you are,” he said. “All clean.”
“Give it a final rinse,” she said. “To get out all the soap.”
He poured the remaining water in the pot over her head, making sure he rinsed out all her curls.
Tha?s sighed. “Feels good.”
He smiled. He liked making her feel good. Instinctively, he took her hair in both his hands and gently wrung out the water.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I like that. Rub my head, would you?”
That he actually knew how to do. He’d often done it for his sister when she was a child, to soothe her when she was upset.
Though, soothing his sister and massaging Tha?s’s scalp to bring her pleasure were two entirely different concepts.
Still, he wanted to show her that he could, at least, do this one small thing to please her.
He ran his fingers through her damp curls and put his hands just over her ears.
“Heaven,” she said.
He smiled to himself. He bent closer and massaged her from her temples to her crown to the nape of her neck, enjoying her sighs of contentment.
And then, he felt himself stir.
He had been so focused on the pleasure of his task that he had not been aware he was on the verge of hardening.
And now, with her nude form bent in front of him in the most suggestive pose he could devise, he was suddenly conscious of the eroticism.
His cock surged.
He quickly untangled his hands and backed away, but they both knew she had felt it.
She turned around, confronting him with the full vision of her. The breasts that made him so uncontrollably aroused, the bright red hair at the junction of her thighs, the soft belly and swell of hips. A woman so perfectly made by God to arouse his wanton instincts that he let out a gasp.
He looked at her. He really looked at her.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, looking up into her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
She stepped forward and put a hand above his heart.
“Feel that? I’m plenty real.”
He sucked in his breath at her touch. He wanted more.
“I’m gripped with desire,” he confessed.
“Good.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was soft and yet so thorough he felt like she was melting into him, and he was melting into her, and his entire body was alive with the sensation of her nearness, his skin prickling and tender, his heart beating like the reverberations of a drum.
She moved her hands up, ruffling his hair, caressing his scalp the way he’d held hers, and it was so sweet and kind and felt so good and she was so close, her belly pressed against his bulging, rock-hard cock, and he kissed her more deeply, and then suddenly—
He spasmed and cried out and had to brace himself against the table with both hands as an unexpected orgasm coursed through him so powerfully his knees went weak.
Very slowly, Tha?s parted her lips from his. There was a gentle expression in her eyes.
“There we are,” she whispered.
His seed was seeping through the fabric of his breeches like the shame seeping from his entire soul.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasped out, his voice hoarse from the force of his passion, his embarrassment, his shock.
Tha?s leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Nothing to apologize for, love. It’s a compliment.”
No. It was a humiliation.
“Please excuse me,” he said.
He untwined himself from her and walked away, toward his room and privacy and a basin of water to wash away the evidence of his forever overeager cock, as fast as he could without running.