“Your stomach has shrunk, my Lady,” said Jeremy, emptying his buckets into the copper tub they’d brought in earlier. “It takes time for it to return to normal, I’m told.”
“I’m sure Evan’s cooking will help with that,” she replied. “And a bath. Truly I am surrounded by luxury today.”
“No more than your due, my Lady,” said Gabriel, arranging the towels on a nearby chair and stoking up the fire. “Now then. Are you ready?”
She glanced at the men. “Are you all staying?”
Jeremy’s gaze turned wicked. “Are you inviting us?”
Caught off-guard by both the look and the question, she stuttered. “I…er…”
“Oh hush,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Never mind him.” He turned to the other men and made shooing motions with his hands. “Off with you both now. Lady Gwyneth will join you before dinner in the parlour. Go…go…”
“Enjoy your bath, my Lady,” bowed Jeremy.
“We’ll have a fine meal for your first Easter Sunday, Lady Gwyneth,” promised Evan.
Gabriel shut the door behind them with a sigh. “Sometimes they’re difficult to get rid of,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s see about your bath.”
Gwyneth watched as he put another log on the fire, coaxing it into a warm blaze. Easter it might be, but the unpredictable weather still couldn’t decide whether to be warm or cool. This day was cool, blustery and with heavy clouds scudding over the land.
He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and tested the water with one hand.
“Is it ready?” She was looking forward to a long soak.
“I think so.” He stood. “I’ve put a touch of rose oil in there, so that should help with softening your skin.”
She got up slowly from the chair, using the desk to support herself. “I’m still wobbly, damn…,” she swore.
“Give yourself time, dear lady. You’ve been through a serious and dangerous experience. Patience is required.”
She sighed. “Of that, I have little.” Carefully she made her way across the room, grateful that he neither commented nor offered to help. She would have lost a little respect for him had he suggested any.
Reaching his side, he nodded in approval. “Well done, my Lady. Well done indeed.” He reached for the tie of her robe and loosened it, easing it away from her shoulders, leaving her in her nightgown. “I think we’ll wash your hair today too. How does that sound?”
“Idyllic,” she answered.
The first time she’d seen herself, with the shorn head, she’d wept. Gabriel had dried her tears, then assured her it would grow back and he’d tidy it up for her as soon as she was better. He’d done so, as handy with scissors as any maid, and now she looked more the thing.
But oh, how she missed her long hair.
Without any ceremony, Gabriel stripped her naked and took her hand, steadying her carefully as she stepped into the water. His touches on her skin were necessary, gentle and impersonal, but for the first time she felt them in a different way.
She felt like a naked woman being touched by a man.
And to her surprise, it was not unpleasant.
Settling down with a sigh of delight, she dipped her hands beneath the surface and let droplets cascade over her drawn-up knees.
“Close your eyes…” Gabriel poured a jug of water over her head.
She sputtered and spat. “A few seconds' notice might help,” she coughed.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t sound repentant, but then again, he was now washing her hair with some rose-scented soap, so how could she complain?
“A wonderful fragrance,” she murmured, feeling her neck and shoulders relax beneath his thorough attentions.
