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He watched her eyes as they darted downward and then back up to his own.

“Talk to me, my love.”

Those last words slipped out, and Aidan silently prayed Clarissa would not notice, or comment.

“He tried thrice to beget a child from me.”

When she closed her eyes and tried to pull away, Aidan would not let her.

“He bade me remove my clothes.” She opened her eyes. “I did, lying still so as to not anger him. Each time he hovered over me, touching himself and cursing me.”

Aidan wasn’t sure if he hated Theffield or her former husband more.

“His anger lasted for days. After the third time, he sent his physician to examine me.”

She attempted to shift her gaze to the ground, but he tipped her chin up. He wouldn’t let her look down. There was nothing for her to be ashamed of.

“Though it was confirmed I was as untouched as my father had promised him, Stanley told the priest otherwise. I did not realize it at first.” She shrugged. “But now I know he spun that tale to ensure the annulment would be granted.”

When she finished, Clarissa seemed stronger, as if she’d exorcised something that had preyed on her. No longer tentative, her hand began to move again, stroking his chest.

“I am glad to be away from there. From him.”

“And I am glad you trusted me with your story.”

Foolishly, he brought Clarissa’s other hand up to his chest.

“Replace those memories with a new one,” he heard himself saying. Untying the laces at her neck, Aidan pushed the thick cape away from her, not daring to look down. Instead, he closed the space between them and captured her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. One that promised to begin to erase the horrors of her past.

One that risked changing everything.

As her lips opened for him, her tongue touching his tentatively, Aidan wanted so much more than to be inside her.

Of course, he wanted that too.

But he also wanted her to know nothing the terrible men in her life had said was true. She was perfect, just as she was. And Aidan wanted her to know there was good in the world, men who did not treat women poorly simply because they had power, or felt powerless themselves.

He wanted her to know he loved her.

Startling himself with the thought, he pulled back and led her toward the bath he’d promised. As she stepped into the river, he laughed at her intake of breath. The water was indeed frigid.

“Careful.” He guided her to the flattest part of the riverbed, a spot he knew well, then reached into a pouch sewn into his trewes and pulled out the scented soap he’d scooped up from Clarissa’s bedchamber.

“Here.” He handed it to her as she waded further in, submerged to her hip. “You’ll want to be quick about it.”

“Thank you.”

He watched as she took the soap from his hands. And then, before he could stop her, Clarissa dunked herself into the water. Though he still held her hand, the darkness swallowed up everything else until she emerged a moment later.

Pulling away from him, she made quick work of using the soap to wash her hair and face. Reaching under the soaking wet shift, she continued to cleanse herself as Aidan attempted not to look at the hardened nipples that called to him from just beneath the thin fabric.

He finally noticed she was struggling to hold the soap and cleanse her hair and belatedly took it from her, indicating she should turn around. Running it through the long tresses he’d ached to touch for days, he used his fingers to separate the strands and nearly dropped to his knees when she released a soft moan.

“That feels so good,” she said. “Nothing at all like it does when Eda washes it.”

He nearly forgot how cold the water felt. Keeping a tawdry retort to himself, he finished his ministrations and watched as she slipped beneath the surface again, as nubile as a selkie. When she re-emerged, Aidan did the same, washing quickly and pulling her from the increasingly frigid water.

Dressing quickly, he thanked the saints Clarissa was once again covered with her cloak.