“Scattered about on the floor and in baskets and boxes?” He had to laugh.
“Indeed.”
“What is behind this beautiful screen?” She pulled back the six-panel floor to ceiling screen with its depictions of nymphs and shepherds in various amorous poses. “Oh, my. Your beautiful bath and what are these pipes and levers for?” She turned one of the levers in question and water began to pour into the bath from a spigot shaped like a swan’s neck. Steam rose from the bath and the look she gave him, full of delight and wonder, nearly undid him.
“I had to install steam for my presses. Seemed only natural to install some for my own pleasure. What about it, Miss Perriton, shall I see to your bath?”
“Why, Lord Whitcombe?” She smiled sincerely now, relaxed and leaving her cares aside for a few moments at least. He was determined to aid her in any way possible. “What precisely do you have in mind?”
She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder. He did not need to be told twice. Bloody riding habit was a damned nuisance to get off. He’d never seen so many tapes, buttons, and ribbons in his life. By the time he had her out of the skirt and petticoats his hands shook like some green schoolboy’s. He peeled the jacket away and unlaced her stays. He concentrated so hard he did not notice as she removed the pins from her hair, shook out her tresses and allowed the dark silk fall to tumble down below her hips. He clasped a handful and pressed the long curls to his nose. She smelled of roses, her hair and body, smelled more delicate and more lovely than any rose garden.
He knelt to untie her garters and roll down her stockings. She drew her shift over her head and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Unable to resist, Daedalus pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, to her knee, and then to the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. He drew in her scent, the scent of arousal and sighed. He forced himself to stand and led her to the large copper bath. He turned off one lever, tested the water with his fingertips, and turned on the other lever. He dangled his hand in the water to continue to judge when it might reach the most calming and healing level of heat.
Cordelia rose on her toes and cupped the back of his head to drag him down for a deep seductive kiss. Their tongues glided over each other and elicited tiny groans of desire from each of them. Once the water was perfect, Daedalus swept Cordelia into his arms and settled her into the bath. She leaned against the high back of the tub and sighed. The sight of her long bare legs and full breasts settled in the water sent shards of lust to his groin. He’d never survive this, seeing to her needs without ravishing her.
He shrugged out of his coat and dragged his shirt over his head. On the shelf above the tub he found an ornately carved box and a thick soft flannel. He hung the flannel over the side of the tub and opened the box which contained bottles of various ground powders. With the silver spoon inside he scooped out a spoonful of three of the powders and dropped them into the bath. The scent rose immediately and surrounded them. He put the box back and knelt beside the tub.
“What is that?” she asked softly. “The aroma is divine and my skin feels all prickly.” She opened her eyes. “Have you dosed me with a love potion, Daedalus?”
“Do I need to?”
She shook her head.
“One of my pressmen is from India. He is versed in the medicinal arts of his country. I’ve added winter cherry, turmeric, and saffron to your bath. They are used for healing and relaxation. I thought perhaps you might need them.” He plucked the bar of milled sandalwood soap from the dish at the side of the tub and began to bathe Cordelia. Something in the act of drawing the soaped flannel up and down her arms and then her legs stirred him in a way he did not understand. Oh, he was aroused. All she had to do was walk into the room for his unruly cock to poke against his falls in dedicated interest. This was more.
She lay back in the tub with her hair floating on the water, swirling around the peaks of her breast, eyes closed and the trust she afforded him was humbling and alluring all at once. He did not want to contemplate what her trust meant to him. Not yet. If only—
“Why have you never tupped a woman before me, Daedalus?” She did not open her eyes nor raise her voice. The question might have floated out on the steam of her bathwater. “Please tell me.”
For several minutes he continued to bathe her. He moved a stool over to the head of bath and ran water into a large pitcher on the washstand behind the tub. He wet her hair and began to work the soap into the long, thick strands. A log shifted in the fireplace. Ox, no doubt, had built up the fire for Daedalus before he’d left for the day. The small French ormolu clock on the mantel ticked away the time. And with no thought as to why, he made a decision.
“My sister, Diana, was not much older than Alice when she married Breadmore. My mother died when we were young. Diana grew up in a household of men. Her governess was a useless old woman. Once Diana and the earl were engaged, Breadmore’s mother took it upon herself to prepare my sister for marriage.” He snorted. “Prepare? She was worse than useless and only served to terrify poor Diana. They married at our estate and traveled a few miles to the hunting lodge for their honeymoon.
I was twelve years old and an idiot, but a curious idiot. My friends and I often went to the lodge to sneak drinks from my father’s brandy and do the things that twelve-year-old boys do.” He drew in a long breath. “There is a hidden entrance to the first floor of the lodge and passageways run throughout to make things easier for servants when large hunting parties were in attendance. I crept into one of those passageways and came upon the room where Diana and her new husband were…were…”
“Fucking?” she offered, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“He was fucking. She was just lying there. From the place where I could peer into the room I could see her face. She was crying, not making a sound, whilst the tears rolled down her face. And all the while he was grunting on top of her like a rutting bull, calling her names, but not looking at her face.” His voice broke. Daedalus sat on the stool his hand in her hair and shook at the memory burned into his vision forever. Cordelia reached back and took his hand.
“There was no pleasure, no joy. She was in misery, weeping, and he didn’t care. He climbed off her and left the room. I sat in that passageway listening to my sister weep and didn’t do a damned thing about it.”
“You were a child. What could you have done?”
“I could have said something—to her, to Breadmore, to my brother, our father, but I did not say a word.”
“Daedalus.”
“A year later they had come to visit us. Alice was only three or four months old. Chelmsford and I, and even our father, adored her. Breadmore ignored the child. Diana tried to care for Alice, but Breadmore’s mother insisted on a wet nurse. And Diana was so sad. I asked her to go out riding with me one morning. She seemed excited about our ride. The next morning, I went to her chambers to wake her.” He held Cordelia’s hand so tightly her flesh went white. “I found her lying in bed. There was an empty laudanum bottle on the floor. Her eyes were wide open and her hand was so cold.”
“Oh God no. Oh Daedalus.” Cordelia rose onto her knees and turned in the tub to face him whilst water splashed over the sides.
“There was a note clutched in her hand. I took the note and the laudanum bottle and ran to my room. No one has ever seen it or knows about it save me, and now you.”
“I won’t tell. I’ll never tell.” Her dark eyes glistened with tears.
“Breadmore had informed her the night before that he intended to resume intimate relations with her and would continue to come to her until she produced a son. S-She could not bear it, Cordelia. She took her own life rather than lie with a man who cared nothing for her save as a receptacle for his seed. I have tried over and over to lie with a woman since then, but always the memory of her face came to me, and I simply couldn’t…”
“Except with me.”
