He lifted his head and smiled at her. “It would be my pleasure.”
He knelt behind her and Felicity leaned forward. He rubbed his hands with the soap and threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Felicity moaned as she tipped her head back and he chuckled.
“My father used to wash my mother’s hair. I thought it strange, but now I understand,” he said.
“Understand what?”
“He just wanted to take care of her. It was one of the many ways he showed her his love.”
“They sound wonderful,” she said, a bit wistful.
“Aye. What of your parents?”
“My father was not an expressive man. My mother would hold us and sing to us, but never in front of him. Affection had to be secretive.”
“I like him less the more I know about him.”
“I wish I could say something redeeming. I wish I could take my mother and sisters away from him... or that he’d died shortly after my younger sister’s birth, sparing us years of his condemnation. But then we would have been penniless. The Earl of Kilton provided the living, but he was neglectful. He’s my father’s cousin.”
Tristan cupped water over her hair and Felicity closed her eyes. She tipped her head back and sank lower as Tristan rinsed her hair. Then she sat up and he towel dried it. He draped it over the rim of the tub and brushed it.
“What are you doing now?” she asked as she felt him weaving her hair.
“Making sure I haven’t lost my talents for plaiting hair. There.”
Felicity lightly ran her hand over the intricate braid. “You’re better than I am, and I have two sisters.”
“I should go,” he said.
“Wait.” She pushed out of the tub, his gaze glued to her body as she reached for the second towel.
“Your skin looks like a polished pearl, Flick.” He offered his hand, and she stepped out of the tub. He took the towel and wrapped it around her. Felicity caught sight of his tented trousers, and she smiled knowingly at him.
“Don’t leave.”
“I must. I only had thirty minutes before I have to get back to the study and—”
“And?”
“You’ll see. When you do, I hope you’ll be happy.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” she begged.
“I don’t want you to worry.”
“It sounds dangerous.”
“It’s not, but there is immense risk.” He swiftly kissed her lips. “I have to go.”
Felicity glared at his retreating back as he slipped out her door. She dried herself in agitated swipes of the towel before putting on a fresh day dress.
Matilda reappeared and knocked before entering. “All done?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What a lovely plait! You did that yourself?”
“Um, yes.”
