Every fiber in Lucas’s body itched with anticipation. Annoyance. Frustration unlike any he’d ever experienced. He hated every part of this, and then add Diana to the mix and it was impossible. He didn’t need to be jealous, for God’s sake. She wasn’t his—she was only a temporary distraction. If she wanted to allow this or that or any young man to court her, that was her right. She could bed the entire War Department and he had no place to judge her. She was owed pleasure and happiness and a future.
He could only give her one of those three things. His shortcoming, not hers.
Logan returned with Diana at his heels. He had two buckets and she one. He dumped his two, then smiled at her as he took the last one and added it to the steaming tub.
“Is there anything else I can do, Miss Oakford?” he asked.
She reached out to touch his arm. “No, you’ve been a great help, thank you.”
He nodded to her, then to Lucas, and left them alone. Lucas moved to stand and she held up a hand. “Not yet,” she said. “One more thing.”
She departed the room again and he flopped back on the pillows in increasing frustration. Being out of control was not something he enjoyed. It reminded him of…
Well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to think of that time, of that life he had abandoned and why.
Diana returned with a small bowl filled with herbs. She lifted it in his direction before she moved to the tub. He had to smile as she sprinkled them into the steaming water.
“Are you going to boil me like a finely seasoned chicken, then?” he asked, his frustration fading in exchange for the teasing that had begun to feel so easy and comfortable between them.
She set the empty bowl aside and turned to him with a laugh. “More like a tea, and you shall be the biscuit dunked in it. But right now the water is too hot and the herbs must steep.”
“What will they do?” he asked.
“You are always so curious, Your Grace.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Especially when a lady is attempting to make a meal of me.”
She laughed again, the music of that sound touching every part of him. “They will help you relax. They will soothe some of the pain. Nothing to harm you.”
He watched her closely. “I don’t think you’d ever harm me, Diana. Not on purpose.”
She drew back at the intimacy those words created. He was rather shocked, himself, that he’d said them. He hadn’t meant to. There was just something about this woman.
She cleared her throat. “You may feel differently in a moment. While the bath cools, I would like to try massaging your muscles.”
He blinked in surprise at the notion. “Rubbing me down, you mean. Like a prize horse?”
She shook her head and shot him a playful look that told him she was only barely tolerating him. “I suppose that is a step up from being a chicken or a biscuit.”
“If you think it would help,” he said. “I’m not adverse to the notion of you rubbing your hands on me.”
“I will try very hard not to become distracted. Thankfully you did not make the same mistake you accusedmeof earlier and dress, so if you would roll over on your stomach and remove the pillows you’ve built into a fortress behind your head, that would be helpful.”
He did so and lay flat on his stomach, turning his head away from her. He heard her moving around, then her hands touched him. They were slick with a fragrant oil that smelled like cinnamon and something exotic he couldn’t place. He hissed out pleasure at the erotic sensation of flesh gliding over flesh.
“Oh, I should request this treatment every day,” he groaned.
“You might not like it as much as I go deeper,” she said. “Pleasure is not always the first reaction, but pain.”
He opened his eyes and stared at the other side of the bed. Her words reminded him of a realization that had been troubling him a few days. One he had not discussed with her, but now it sat in his head, a jealousy amongst other unwanted jealousies.
“Were you married?” he asked at last.
Her hands hesitated on his back, and then she went back to her work. “You mean because I was not…was notuntouchedthe first time you made love to me?”
He turned his head to look at her as he said, “Yes.”
Her cheeks tuned red and she turned away for a moment. He set his jaw. Perhaps he’d gone too far, been too blunt. His friends used to say he could be, a long time ago.
