Chapter 38
Quiet Confessions
Caspian stood outside the pets' room, watching through the partially open door.
The room had been designated specifically for their growing collection of creatures—large enough to accommodate Shadow's expanding size, with various perches and comfortable spaces for the others.
Shadow was curled up on a thick cushioned mat, already asleep despite it being early evening. The shadow wolf's sides rose and fell with deep, steady breaths. He'd grown even more in the week Caspian had been gone.
Mochi was draped across a elevated perch, his Dreamweaver body arranged in that boneless way cats managed, purring softly in his sleep.
And in a specially prepared nest lined with warming stones and soft blankets, the Frost Serpent egg rested safely. Beside it, in a smaller nest, Sunny the baby griffin slept peacefully, his downy feathers fluffed up.
Caroline had worked quickly to get them all settled. She'd fussed over the temperature of Snowball's warming stones, adjusted Sunny's blankets three times, and made sure Shadow and Mochi approved of the new additions before leaving them to rest.
Satisfied that all four creatures were comfortable, Caspian quietly closed the door.
He made his way through their chambers—past the drawing room, the lounging area, the dressing rooms—to the bathing chamber.
The room was spacious and luxurious, dominated by a medium-sized bathing pool that was more like a small indoor pool than a standard bath. Steam rose from the warm water, filling the air with moisture and heat.
Caspian stripped off his travel-stained clothes with relief. Seven days on the road, fighting corrupted creatures, sleeping on the ground—he desperately needed this.
He stepped into the warm water and sank down with a groan of pure pleasure.
The heat immediately began working on his sore muscles. He'd pushed himself hard on this campaign, driven by his desire to finish quickly and return home.
To Caroline.
Caspian leaned back against the edge of the pool, closing his eyes, letting the warmth seep into his bones.
Home. He was finally home.
He stayed like that for several minutes, simply enjoying the peace and quiet and cleanliness after days in the field.
Then he heard the door open.
Caspian's eyes opened to find Caroline standing in the doorway, wearing only a thin robe that left very little to the imagination.
She had a small smile on her face, her amber eyes warm as they traveled over him.
"Is there room for one more?" she asked, her tone teasing.
Caspian felt his mouth go dry despite being surrounded by water. "Always."
Caroline's smile widened. She reached for the tie of her robe, slowly pulling it loose.
The fabric fell open, revealing the curves of her body—more pronounced now with her pregnancy, the gentle swell of her belly where their son grew.
She let the robe slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor.
Caspian couldn't look away.
She was beautiful. Had always been beautiful. But something about seeing her now, in their bathing chamber, choosing to join him, choosing him—it made his chest tight with emotion.
Caroline walked to the edge of the pool and gracefully stepped in, the warm water rising around her as she descended the steps.
She moved through the water toward him with purpose, and Caspian stayed perfectly still, watching her approach.
When she reached him, she didn't hesitate. She straddled his lap, settling herself against him with a satisfied sound.
"Hello," she said softly.
"Hello," Caspian replied, his hands automatically coming to rest on her hips.
"I missed you," Caroline said, her fingers trailing through his wet hair. "So much."
"I missed you too," Caspian said. "Every moment."
Caroline leaned forward and kissed him—gentle and sweet and full of welcome.
When she pulled back, she reached for the soap and shampoo arranged on the edge of the pool.
"Let me take care of you," she said.
Caspian nodded, unable to form words.
Caroline worked the shampoo into a lather in her hands, then began working it through his hair. Her fingers massaged his scalp in slow, soothing circles.
Caspian closed his eyes with a groan. "That feels amazing."
"You're so tense," Caroline observed, her fingers working carefully. "All this travel and fighting—you need to relax."
"I'm relaxed now," Caspian said.
"Liar," Caroline teased. "Your shoulders are like stone."
She rinsed the shampoo from his hair, using a small pitcher to pour warm water over his head. Her movements were gentle, careful not to get soap in his eyes.
Then she picked up the soap and began washing his shoulders and chest.
Her hands moved over his skin with tender care, following the lines of muscle, tracing old scars. Not seductive—though there was certainly awareness between them—but caring. Taking care of him.
Caspian's arms came around her waist as she worked, holding her gently.
She continued washing him, her hands moving across his chest, down his arms. She lifted each of his hands and carefully cleaned them, paying attention to his fingers, his palms.
"You work so hard," Caroline said softly. "Fighting to protect everyone. Never complaining. Never yielding."
"It's my duty," Caspian said.
"I know," Caroline said. "But that doesn't make it less exhausting. Or less dangerous."
She moved to wash his back, and Caspian leaned forward to give her better access. Her hands worked over his shoulder blades, down his spine.
Then her fingers found a particularly tight knot in his shoulder, and she pressed gently.
Caspian jerked slightly—not from pain, but from the ticklish sensation.
Caroline paused. "Did that tickle?"
"No," Caspian lied.
She pressed the same spot again, and Caspian couldn't help it—he laughed. Actually laughed, the sound surprised even to his own ears.
"You're ticklish," Caroline said, delighted. "The Butcher of the North is ticklish."
"Caroline—" Caspian warned.
But she was already experimenting, finding other spots that made him twitch or laugh. His sides, just below his ribs. The back of his neck when she used just her fingertips.
"This is important information," Caroline said, grinning. "For future reference."
"You're terrible," Caspian said, but he was smiling.
"You love it," Caroline countered.
She went back to washing him properly, though there was still amusement in her eyes. She rinsed away the soap, pressing kisses to his shoulders, his neck, his jaw as she worked.
Then she moved to massage his shoulders properly—no tickling this time, just firm, steady pressure that worked at the knots in his muscles.
"Tell me about the campaign," Caroline said as she worked. "What happened?"
Caspian told her. About the corrupted dragons, about finding the orphaned creatures, about the troops and Edwin and the long ride home.
Caroline listened, her hands never stopping their soothing motion.
"I'm glad you're home," she said when he finished. "Safe. Here with me."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Caspian said honestly.
Caroline's massage slowed, her hands becoming more of a gentle touch. She shifted slightly in his lap, settling closer against him.
They stayed like that for a long moment—just holding each other in the warm water, steam rising around them, completely peaceful.
Caroline rested her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck. Caspian held her close, one hand on her back, the other resting gently on her belly.
"Caspian," Caroline said softly.
"Mmm?"
"I love you."
The words were quiet, simple, but they hit Caspian with the force of a physical blow.
His breath caught. His arms tightened around her.
"Caroline—"
"I love you," she repeated, lifting her head to look at him. Her amber eyes were shining with emotion. "I love you. I needed you to know that."
Caspian felt his chest constrict with overwhelming feeling.
"I love you too," he said, his voice rough. "I love you, Caroline. More than I thought it was possible to love anyone."
Caroline's eyes filled with tears—happy tears, based on her smile.
"I was so worried when you were gone," she whispered. "Every day, I worried about you. Not just because you're my husband or the father of our child, but because I love you. Because losing you would destroy me."
"You won't lose me," Caspian promised, cupping her face. "I'll always come home to you. Always."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Caroline kissed him then—soft and sweet and full of love.
When they broke apart, they simply held each other, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath.
"I love you," Caroline said again, as if she needed to keep saying it.
"I love you too," Caspian replied. "My wife. My choice. My everything."
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the warm water lapping gently around them.
Then Caroline shifted slightly, and Caspian became very aware of her body pressed against his. Of the way her eyes had darkened with desire. Of the heat building between them that had nothing to do with the bath water.
"Caspian," she breathed.
He kissed her again, deeper this time. Passionate. His hands moved over her body—her back, her hips, her thighs.
Caroline made a soft sound against his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair.
The kiss grew heated, desperate. Seven days apart. Seven days of missing each other, wanting each other.
Caspian stood abruptly, lifting Caroline with him. Water sluiced off their bodies as he stepped out of the pool.
"Caspian!" Caroline laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "We're dripping everywhere!"
"Don't care," Caspian said, already carrying her toward their bedchamber. "Need you. Now."
"The bed—"
"Will dry," Caspian finished.
He laid her on their bed—the bed they now shared, in the chambers that were truly theirs—and followed her down.
Caroline pulled him into another kiss.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips.
"I love you too," Caspian said. "Let me show you how much."
Caspian kissed her slowly, reverently, as though she were something infinitely precious. His lips moved over hers with gentle pressure, tasting, savoring, while his hands cradled her face. Caroline sighed into the kiss, her fingers sliding into his damp silver hair, pulling him closer.
He shifted his weight carefully, mindful of the gentle curve of her belly between them.
One hand trailed down her side, tracing the swell of her hip, the soft skin of her thigh.
When he settled more fully between her legs, she felt the hard length of him pressing against her, warm and insistent, but he made no move to rush.
“Caspian,” she whispered, arching slightly toward him.
He answered with another slow kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw, down the sensitive column of her throat.
His mouth lingered at the hollow beneath her ear, drawing a soft gasp from her.
Lower still, he pressed open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone, then to the full, sensitive curve of her breast. When he closed his lips gently around one peak, she moaned quietly, fingers tightening in his hair.
He took his time there, lavishing each breast with tender attention—soft licks, gentle suction—until she was trembling beneath him, breath coming in shallow waves.
Only then did his hand drift lower, sliding between her thighs with careful reverence.
He parted her slowly, fingers gliding through her warmth, finding her already slick and ready.
One finger slipped inside her, then two, curling gently as his thumb brushed over the small, sensitive bud above.
Caroline’s hips lifted toward his touch, a quiet plea.
He watched her face the entire time, jade eyes dark with love and desire, adjusting every stroke to the soft sounds she made. When her breathing grew ragged and her body began to tighten, he kept the rhythm steady, gentle, coaxing her toward release with endless patience.
She came with a soft cry, back arching, inner walls fluttering around his fingers as pleasure rolled through her in warm, lingering waves. Caspian kissed her through it—forehead, cheeks, lips—murmuring quiet words of love against her skin.
When the tremors faded, he withdrew his hand and shifted again, guiding himself to her entrance. He pressed forward slowly, eyes locked on hers, giving her every moment to adjust. The stretch was familiar now, perfect, and she welcomed him with a sigh, legs wrapping loosely around his hips.
He began to move in long, unhurried strokes—deep, but gentle, each thrust a silent declaration. His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he kissed her again and again. The pace stayed tender, almost languid, as though they had all the time in the world.
Caroline’s hands roamed his back, tracing the lines of muscle, the faint ridges of old scars. She whispered his name like a prayer, meeting each roll of his hips with her own.
The pleasure built slowly this time, warm and steady, until it crested again—soft, rolling, drawing a quiet moan from her lips as she clung to him.
Caspian followed moments later, burying himself deep and stilling as he spilled inside her with a low, shuddering groan.
His forehead rested against hers, breath mingling as the last pulses faded.
They stayed joined, wrapped around each other, hearts slowing together. Caspian pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then her lips—soft, lingering.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.
Caroline smiled, tears of simple happiness gathering in her eyes. “I love you too. Welcome home.”