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Her eyebrows furrowed. Didn’t he realize she was naked? He didn’t seem to be trying to peek at her body. Maybe he was so concerned about her that he wasn’t paying attention to what was really going on.
“Can I wash your arm?” he asked.
She held her arm out, and he knelt by the tub. He picked up the cloth and dipped it into the water. Then he lightly brushed it over her wound.
She sharply inhaled. It might not have been a deep wound, but it still stung.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he said then dabbed the water along the length of her injury. She bit down on her tongue. When he washed it with soap, it was worse. But then he rinsed it off by pouring water from a small bowl on it, and she relaxed.
“Good. It looks like the bleeding is slowing down,” he commented. He let go of her arm then knelt behind her. He took the pins out of her hair and set them on the table.
"Thank you,” she finally said. He didn’t have to tend to her wound and wash her up, but he was choosing to do that. And in none of his movements did he indicate that he planned to take her to bed.
When he was done with her hair, he cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll tell your maid to come in to help you get dressed for dinner.”
“You’re leaving?”
He stopped halfway to the door and turned toward her.
“I wanted to make sure you were all right and help you get that mud out of your hair. I figure you can do the rest yourself, and your maid knows how to help you with your clothes.”
She licked her lips. How he wished she wouldn’t.
Emma swallowed and spoke in a rusty whisper. “Don’t go.”
“What do you mean?”
Her lips tightened with displeasure. His heart kicking into an excited gallop, he stared at her without moving. It took him far too long to realize that while she looked uncertain, she also looked…interested.
Alexander took her into his arms.
"Yes, the terms of our business arrangement,” Emma said, a slight quiver to her voice.
“I should hardly call making love a business transaction,” he said softly.
“Is that what we will do?” Emma asked hesitantly, looking at him with nervous eyes. “Make love?”
“Yes,” Alexander said firmly, kissing the top of her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “For I love you, Emma, and I want to show you how much.”
“Oh, Alexander,” she sighed in reply, and Alexander took her response as permission to proceed.
Hesitantly he brushed his lips to hers, but the taste of her – so sweet – had him plundering her mouth with wanton abandon in just a few seconds.
“Goddess,” he whispered, as he rained kisses down on her collarbone, then the soft swell of her breasts, before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking hungrily on it.
“Oh, Alexander,” Emma cried, and he could bear it no longer.
Picking his wife up bodily, he carried her to the bed, where he deposited her most gently, as though she would break.
Steady, slowly – he counselled himself, as he removed every stitch of clothing he wore, and stood before her.
“Oh,” Emma looked down at his manhood, then back up at his eyes, her face a picture of fear.
“It won’t hurt, I won’t hurt you,” Alexander assured her, coming to lie down on the bed, gently pinning her under his body.
“Trust me,” Alexander said softly. He’d never imagined that introducing his wife to pleasure could carry such importance.
“Yes,” she said simply, and relief struck him like a blow. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, praying that it was true.
