“Don’t fear,” he said, dropping his cock so he could hold out his hands to show he wasn’t a danger to her. Her expression when his heavy dick bounced against his thigh showed his attempt amounted to naught.
When she moved sedately to depart the Forest, Frederick wished to chase after her, but he knew some stories were a long time coming. He would be patient. For now.
Chapter 8
Edmund carried Ann intohis apartments, heading to some room off the bedroom. Looking about the chamber for the first time, she was surprised that they didn't immediately go to the enormous four-poster.
“I thought you meant to take me to bed,” said Ann, still wearing only that tapestry from the Forest. Edmund had solicitously wrapped her in the fabric, then whisked her off to his carriage, where he’d barked orders for the coachmen and footmen to turn their backs for his wife’s modesty.
He really could have allowed her time to dress; he’d pulled on just enough clothing to evade arrest, but she was so turned about by his protective actions that she merely clung to his neck and enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms.
“Need to get them off of you,” he mumbled while walking through the vast bedroom into what seemed to be a…bathing chamber? He’d taken his stag mask off, tossing it on the floor of the Forest as they departed, but his voice was still so far away as he growled the few words he got out.
Before them spread the most spectacular bathing chamber she’d ever seen. Ann read magazines and gazettes and had seen the new sanitary inventions that she’d secretly wanted to try simply for the pleasure of splashing around in them.
In pride of place was a hooded shower bath, the front half of the bathing tub enclosed by high walls.
“You have one of the new—”
“Yes, in we go,” grumbled Edmund, not bothering to remove his clothes as he stepped into the bath. He pulled the tapestry from Ann’s body after holding it in place so carefully the entire trip home, finally allowing her bare feet to drop so she could stand.
She stood there as he pressed his chest to her back and turned a knob. Rather than the trickle of cold water she had envisioned when reading those articles and perusing advertisements, a gushing flow of lukewarm water erupted from a pipe and head above.
Edmund pulled her back against him. Their bodies melded together. “It will get hot,” he said, fiddling with the knob.
And so she stood in her husband’s arms, wondering what he was about. At last, he judged the water a suitable temperature and took up soap, lathering it and then placing his hands at her shoulders.
“Edmund?” she asked. Did he judge her hygiene to be displeasing?
“I need to get the smell of the Bucks off you,” he said.
Ann felt instantly hurt, as if she’d done something wrong. But he had been the one to suggest that she go to the Bucks! It was his secret society, all his! She was about to protest vociferously when he raised her arms and began washing below them, then lathered soap over her breasts.
“But you gave me to the Bucks!” she cried, no longer willing to be ignored and dismissed. She didn’t care if she loved him. This was too hurtful and unfair to bear. She’d walk right out of the house in that tapestry if she had to!
Edmund wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed their cheeks together. All the while, he muttered, “You’re mine, Annie. I need to get them off of you and then claim you. Mark you as my own. My wife.”
A sob escaped her lips, unbidden feelings breaking suddenly at his unexpected words.
“Annie, my love, don’t cry over your big, stupid husband,” he said, caressing her belly as his voice betrayed the emotions he was holding in.
“You’re not stupid,” she said. Oh, to be like this always, held in his arms. All the while, warm water fell upon them in that marvelous shower bath.
“But I am. I wish I could say I was young and foolish when we married, but I was older than you now. Older and distraught at what Crispin had done to you.”
Ann turned in her husband’s hold so she could look at him as they talked. Initially, this put her directly under the spray of water, but he pulled her closer to protect her from the drops.
She needed to make some things clear. It might cause him to hate her, but she owed him some details of what had transpired between her and Edmund’s brother.
“But I was not unwilling,” she said, hoping that he would recall that Crispin’s attentions hadn’t been unwelcome.
“You were a girl,” whispered Edmund, taking her head between his enormous hands. After so many years, he finally showed what he’d been staying away to hide: that his brother’s actions anguished him.
His face was tight with pain as he regarded his wife, thought of how young and vulnerable she’d been when Crispin had taken advantage of her innocence and landed them both in a marriagethey didn’t want. He’d seen the look of horror in her eyes on their wedding day and knew that she wasn’t ready to be his wife; would never consent to being his wife in truth, after what Crispin had done.
“I wasn’t unwilling,” she said, placing her hands over his and speaking reassuringly.
“But you were a girl,” Edmund bit out, his jaw held tight.
