“I take it ye didna get along with them, then?”
She gave a small laugh that held more bitterness than mirth. “It wasn’t that we didn’t get on with each other.” She shrugged as she accepted her wine. “They created me, and then they were done. I guess you could say I was like a limited-edition doll. Placed on a shelf. Brought out when it served to make them look like fine, upstanding people. They had a child because that was what married people did. Then they went on and lived their lives. Too busy to be bothered by something as troublesome as raising a daughter.”
“Then who looked after ye?”
Her head tipped to one side, and a thoughtfulness pulled at her face. “Nannies, boarding schools.” She shrugged again. “Anyone they could pay to keep me out their hair.”
“Out of their hair?” She said the oddest things sometimes. He hoped someday he would understand her fully.
“Out of the way. Seen but not heard.” She took a long drink, then set the glass back on the ledge. “There. That was my one thing for tonight.”
He sensed she held back, not yet ready or willing to share more. Taking her hands in his, he pulled her around and leaned her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she settled. “I will never ignore ye,” he whispered with a soft kiss to her temple.
She shifted with a heavy sigh. “That’s what they all say.”
Ever so gently, he lifted the circlet off her head and placed it on the ledge. She had complained the other one had made her head ache. He had no doubt this one did the same. With a firm but gentle touch, he massaged her temples. “Does yer head pain ye?”
“I should ask you that,” she said but closed her eyes and went all loose, relaxing under his touch.
“My head is fine.” He undid the ribbons and fastenings holding her braid in place, taking care not to pull or snag. He freed her lovely tresses and combed his fingers through the shimmering silkiness. “Is this better?”
“Most definitely.” But she kept fidgeting as though uncomfortable.
“What is it, lass?”
“Agnes laced me up so tight, I can hardly breathe in this position.” She sat up and stared down at the tied panel running from her low neckline down to a point past her waist. “If Mistress Kemp hadn’t worked so hard on this gown, I’d slice the bloody thing open, so I could pull in more air.”
“Here. Let me help.” He had unlaced a few dresses in his time but wasn’t about to share that with her. Especially not when she seemed to be warming back up to him. “They always tuck the ends so no one will see them. There. She hid them at the base.”
“Thank Heavens.” Evie pushed his hands out of the way. She made quick work of the lacing and stretched open the front of the bodice as wide as it would go. With a blissful smile, she pulled in a deep breath and released it. “I can use the full expanse of my lungs now. You have no idea how wonderful that feels.”
“Aye, I do. I broke my ribs once, and old Merdrid wrapped them so tight I could hardly draw a breath.”
“That should never be done,” Evie said as she reached for her wine. “The patient needs to breathe as deeply as possible to prevent pneumonia.”
“What?” Where did she find these strange words? They weren’t Latin. Latin he would understand.
She stared at him as though startled. “Uhm…the ague. Infection in the lungs that clogs them.” She slid the half-full glass back to the ledge and folded her hands in her lap. “Perhaps, I’ve had enough wine for the evening.”
“Are ye unwell?” Her cheeks had flared to a fiery red, and matching patches of scarlet trailed down her slender throat and spread across her chest.
“No. I’m just…nervous.” Still plucking at the ribbons dangling from the front of her dress, she gave him a shy look. “I guess we should just get on with it, shall we?”
His heart sank. Was this going to be just a duty to her? Like Annag had treated it? He shook his head. “If ye dinna wish to share my bed tonight—or any other night for that matter, ye dinna have to, Evie. I will never force myself upon ye.”
With the corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she studied him for a long moment, then scooted closer, yanking impatiently at her gown as she tried to maneuver back into his arms. With an irritated growl, she jumped up, peeled the silk creation off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. “I am so done fighting with this thing.”
Her action inflamed him. Made his trews entirely too tight. The outline of her lithe body silhouetted by the candelabras made it impossible to take his eyes away.
She stepped out of the circle of silk, scooped it up, and tossed it over a chair. “Please don’t misunderstand. It’s lovely and all. I’m just not used to all this.” She plucked at her chemise, then bent to untie her shoes. The loose neckline of her shift gaped open, revealing her tempting breasts.
Heaven help him. He could remain still no longer. “Let me assist ye, m’love.” He knelt at her feet and made short work of the soft doeskin slippers. The delectable scent of her wafted across him, lifted him up, and coaxed him to continue. A sweet floral mixed with the promise of a woman ready to be pleasured. With his fingers resting on her ankles, he smiled up at her. “Sit, and I’ll help ye with yer stockings, aye?”
“That would be lovely,” she said in a breathless way that told him more than any words.
She seated herself among the cushions with her arms spread across the top of the bench. Open. Waiting. Ready.
He knelt at her feet and slid his hands to the ties above her knees. Once loosened, it took little effort to slip the stockings down and toss them aside. “So smooth,” he murmured, running his hands higher. Warm and silky. Nay, better than silk or any velvet he had ever touched. He kissed the soft inner skin of her knee, then pressed his face against her thigh, forcing himself to slow down and take his time.Savor her, he silently repeated over and over.
