The tasks were finally finished less than an hour later, and both Jeremy and Adalyn returned to the Manor feeling they’d accomplished what they set out to do. Walking in through the kitchen entrance, both stopped to remove their boots before stepping inside.
“Good lord,” said Evan, as they stepped barefoot into his domain. “What on earth have you two been doing? Mucking out the stables?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact we did,” answered Adalyn proudly.
“Trick’s not here to do it,” added Jeremy.
Evan closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “An excellent thought, although Giles will probably have your hide for making Adalyn work.” He glanced at her. “Are you all right? He didn’t make you really muck out the stables, did he?”
She lifted her chin. “No, he didn’t. I made him let me do it.” She took a breath. “I needed to do something for Trick, Evan. And yes, I mostly groomed the horses, but I needed a turn at the mucking out. Fair is fair.”
He shook his head. “I’ll heat water. You’ll need to soak your muscles.”
“Good idea,” said Jeremy. “Adalyn, go upstairs and get out of those clothes…we’ll draw your bath for you.”
She stared at the two of them, still astounded that such men could care so much for her well-being. Then she nodded. “All right.” She walked to her room, trying to comprehend the idea of a bath with the two of them present.
The shiver that ran over her skin had nothing to do with her still-damp shirt.
Scarcely had she slipped into her robe than they arrived at her door with several large buckets of hot water. The light was fading, so she lit the candles as Jeremy retrieved a tub from one cupboard and set it before the fire that Evan had stoked to a comfortable blaze.
Within moments the tub was filled and she stared at it longingly.
Evan retrieved cloths and a bar of soap. “Come along, Adalyn. In with you.” He stood ready to help her.
“Er…” She looked at the two of them.
“Would you prefer we turn our backs?” Jeremy’s smile was gentle, but with an undertone of something more than humour.
“Yes. Definitely yes,” she answered.
They obligingly turned away as she unfastened her robe and stepped into the tub, sighing with pleasure as she settled down into the comforting warmth. “Ahhh, so good.”
“There’s nothing better.” Jeremy startled her by rolling up his sleeves and kneeling behind her.
She slithered down beneath the water, but it was to no avail. As Jeremy unpinned her hair, Evan picked up the soap and a small cloth, and without further ado began to wash her, scenting the room with lavender.
Struck dumb, all she could do was close her eyes and let them administer to her.
She should be screaming, she knew. She should at least protest and try to hide herself from their view.
But she did neither of those things, because she wanted their hands on her. She realised her shoulders were tense but as Jeremy gently lathered her hair, the tight muscles eased. Other parts of her ached, but as Evan washed her legs, her calves felt lighter. His hands and the washcloth roamed over her, and no part of her was omitted from his ministrations.
When Evan reached her hips, Jeremy’s hands slipped from her head down to her neck—and further. The two men worked as if by a single direction, washing her most intimate flesh and caressing her breasts at the same time.
She sighed, gasped and then moaned…unable to resist the seductive persuasion of their attentions. Evan’s hand replaced the washcloth and he stroked her mound, touching places that responded with exquisite heat, especially when Jeremy flicked nipples that had hardened into taut buds.
Her back arched involuntarily and water splashed as she writhed and spread her thighs as wide as she could in lascivious invitation to Evan’s hand and fingers.
Two men, four hands, slippery skin and an unquenchable desire for release—Adalyn was drowning, but not in the water of her bathtub.
She was drowning in sensations, in the extraordinary feel of Evan’s fingers as he slid one, and then another into her body. It was amazing, arousing and so much more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.
As if obeying the baton of a conductor, both men touched her in concert, playing with the most agonisingly sensitive flesh, teasing, caressing, even pinching to a point where a scream choked in her throat.
They seemed to know when to touch and when to stroke, and Adalyn gave little thought to the water she might splash all over the place. At last she could take no more and she sobbed out a cry as her world erupted, great shattering spasms of pleasure jarring her body and shutting down her mind.
This.Thiswas what she’d wanted, what she’d craved.
