Cecilia stood and reached down to help Lionel to his feet. He rose stiffly and with a groan of pain, brushing at his clothes.
“I cannot fathom. Perhaps the fire got out of control? Set to destroy the study or library, wherever the documents were kept.”
Lionel rubbed his chin, frowning intently. “I cannot believe that the Sinclairs would do anything without a motive that might profit them. How does allowing this house to be destroyed profit them? It will take some thinking.”
“Can we get away from here?” Cecilia muttered plaintively. “It is like seeing the body of a relative you last saw hale and hearty.”
Lionel nodded, turning away from the ruin of Penrose. Cecilia felt the urge to look back but resisted it. She concentrated on helping Lionel through the voracious and tangled undergrowth without falling on her face. Without a free hand to lift her skirts, they caught on every bramble and thorn. Soon they were both stumbling and tripping, falling over their own feet and each other’s. Were it not for the somber nature of the occasion, Cecilia would have laughed. Finally, sweating, pricked, and disheveled, they emerged from the thicket to where the coach waited on the road.
“I will not get much sleep tonight,” Lionel groaned as the driver, having leaped from his seat at the first sight of his stricken master, helped him into the coach. Cecilia alighted beside him and gave instructions to return to Thornhill.
Lionel looked pale, his face tight. When she touched his hand, she thought she felt a slight tremor.
“How long since you last took poppy juice?” she asked.
“I have not always needed it. But probably three days,” Lionel gritted.
“Perhaps a dose when we return to the castle will help,” Cecilia said, innocently.
In truth, she knew more about medicine for cows, sheep, or horses than she did for humans. It seemed logical that a medicine whose purpose was to relieve pain must be a boon, but equally, she wondered how else the pain might be alleviated. Once Lionel was resting, she resolved to dive into Thornhill’s library and discover all she could. She took his hand tightly in her own and rested her head on his shoulders.
“I will be fine,” he tried to reassure her, only to suppress a groan as the coach rode a bump, “I just require a tincture of poppy juice and some rest.”
Cecilia sat on the side of the bed, listening to the deep, tranquil breaths of Lionel’s sleep. His bedchamber was larger than hers and now accommodated her three wardrobes as well as his own. He had no suite, only a large bedroom, bathing chamber, andstudy. Cecilia had not been back to the rooms that had been assigned to her for some time. After all, his bed was now her bed.
Outside, a full moon cast pale light over the rooftops. A flickering light was cast by the fire inside as well as a comforting warmth. Lionel had been stubborn about accepting the medicine until he had completed the tasks he deemed necessary. Cecilia had wanted him into bed as soon as they returned to Thornhill by late afternoon, but Lionel had other ideas. He summoned Blackwood and began issuing instructions. Those had included sending for Sir Menzies Lennox, whom he introduced to Cecilia as a brilliant detective and long-term conspirator. He also penned notes to his solicitors in London. As he did this, Cecilia, throwing up her hands in frustration, retired to the library and began to read.
Peggy found her some hours later with the message that the Duke was retiring to his chambers after taking his medicine. She had found a single book that made an interesting suggestion for an alternative. She made her way to the bedchambers she shared with Lionel but first made a detour to the kitchens and requested a number of items from a bewildered Mrs. Hardcastle. Now, she sat and watched her husband sleeping peacefully. He had undressed, preferring to sleep naked. The bed sheets reached to just beyond his navel, giving an uninterrupted view of his muscular torso.
Cecilia ran gentle fingers over sculpted pectorals and a flat, hard stomach. She had never met anyone so unashamedly masculine. Never known how inanimate muscle and bone could give an aura of god-like power and strength. She moved her touch to his arms which lay atop the sheets. A vein ran down the middle ofeach bicep which bulged even in the relaxation of sleep. Lionel’s head turned on the pillow, and suddenly his eyes were open and looking at her.
“I did not mean to wake you,” Cecilia whispered.
“I don’t think I could sleep with the scent of you in my head,” Lionel murmured in turn.
He sat up, the sheet falling lower, revealing more of his body, and making Cecilia’s pulse race. She too had taken to sleeping naked since sharing a bed with Lionel and now she wanted to be in that state very badly. But she had a greater purpose than love-making. Beside her was clean linen, warmed in the kitchens. A bowl of hot water sat next to the linen, laced with mint and a handful of other herbs which produced a soothing scent.
“I found an old book in the library, translated from an earlier tome found on the sub-continent,” Cecilia began, “it explained the benefits of massage. A technique used by Indian healers for centuries.”
Lionel looked skeptical. Cecilia threw back the bed sheets to reveal his left leg. She ignored the fact that she had also exposed his manhood, which was responding to that exposure. She smiled slightly as Lionel lay back, his eyes hot upon her. She picked up the small dish of butter that had lain beneath the linen and began to rub some between her fingers. Then she began to rub at the muscle of Lionel’s thigh. As she worked, the expression of expectant desire on his face began to change. Anexpression more akin to relief and surprised pleasure began to dawn.
Cecilia probed the rock-hard muscle. At first, it was like kneading stone. Then she began to feel knots long tied into that muscle beginning to loosen. As it did, Lionel’s expression of bliss deepened. He gasped as she pushed deeper with thumbs and stiff fingers, finding new pockets of tension. Initially, the gasp was pained and he began to sit up. Then it became a sigh and he relaxed once more. Dipping the linen into the hot water, she wrung the excess water from the fabric and then wrapped it tight around Lionel’s thigh before continuing her manual work.
“The pain… it’s receding,” Lionel breathed, “even with the poppy juice there has always been underlying pain. Even the stiffness is going. I have not felt like this since before that day.”
He opened his eyes and looked up at Cecilia. She was smiling proudly, seeing the effect of her newly learned knowledge.
“Does it work on other parts of the body?” Lionel smirked wolfishly.
He sat up, kissing Cecilia and then reaching for the buttons at her back that fastened her dress.
CHAPTER 19
Lionel was amazed at the newfound skill that Cecilia had displayed. The butter she used to moisten his skin was warm, allowing her fingers to slide over the muscle of his thigh smoothly. She kept working her fingers against his leg as he reached behind to begin unfastening the buttons of her dress.
As he did, she gazed into his eyes, kissing his lips softly and frequently. Each touch was a tantalizing butterfly, bringing a burst of pleasure and leaving him wanting more.
Cravingmore.
