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It was hard to let go of him. ‘I will come up, too, my gown is soaked through. And besides, those scrapes must be cleaned and dressed.’
‘Very wifely,’ Jack murmured as he took her hand.
There was amusement there and deep affection as well as a low vibration of something physical and exciting that resonated down to her toes by way of parts of her that responded eagerly.
* * *
Two of the maids were setting out towels and Madelyn sent one of them for salves and bandages, then firmly closed the door on the pair of them.
Jack was prowling around the large tub. ‘That is enormous. What is it? A tun cut down?’ Water was steaming from the surface and white sheets hung over the edges to protect the bather.
‘Yes, cut just below the mid-point to make it easier to get in. There is a stool here and another inside.’
Jack shrugged out of his shirt, wincing as it slid over his abraded shoulders, peeled off the sodden breeches, then climbed into the tub, hissing as the hot water sluiced over his chilled body.
Madelyn picked up another stool, leaned in and dropped it in beside him before she stripped off her gown and joined him. ‘You see, the Middle Ages have some benefits.’ She took a sponge. ‘Turn around so I can clean your back.’
This was Jack, literally stripped to his essence under her hands, his head bent, exposing the vulnerable nape of his neck. She steadied herself with one hand on his upper right arm, felt the muscle flex as though in welcome to her touch and closed her fingers more tightly.
I am here. I
am yours.
The scrapes were nasty, but his shirt had given some protection and only one deeper gouge marked where a piece of metal or rough rock had caught him. She tried to imagine crawling through that tight, stinking tunnel, not knowing if there was a way out at the other end or whether it would be necessary to fight his way back, perhaps trapped like a fish in a net.
When there was no more mud or grit left she rested her forehead against the bump of vertebrae at the base of his neck and wrapped her arms around his body. ‘I do love you.’
‘Even after I made such a mess of apologising to you for my reaction?’ he asked. ‘I was trying to tell you that I would trust you whatever the evidence said, but I am not used to apologising or to expressing emotion. Not emotions as important as that.’
‘I thought you were simply making the best of things because you had married me and were tied to me. I feared that if I told you that I loved you then you would assume I was trying to deflect your anger.’ Against her cheek his skin was smooth, warm now. Madelyn licked a long, slow stroke of her tongue over it, savouring the taste of him and her own happiness.
Jack sat up straight, twisted on the stool and caught her against him. ‘I approve of this bath. We will have them in all our homes so I can do this... And this and...’
Movement in the tub, even such a large one, was slow and deliberate and Jack did not seem to be in the mood to be rushed. He kissed and caressed and lifted her and Madelyn settled with a sigh, the length of him sliding home with a delicious deliberation.
‘Careful,’ he murmured as she gasped and clung to him. ‘Gently or there will be tidal waves.’
‘I don’t care,’ Madelyn managed to say before he took her mouth and urged her up to sink and rise, clasped around him, holding her still as she rose so he could lavish kisses on her breasts, keeping her tight as she sank down on him.
‘I love you, my lady of the castle,’ Jack said against her neck. ‘Show me what you want, how you feel.’
* * *
‘The water is becoming cold,’ Madelyn said after what might have been an hour or perhaps just ten tumultuous minutes. ‘And the floor is a small lake.’
Jack chuckled and lifted her out of the tub on to the footstool. ‘Wade to high ground, my love.’
They dried themselves and each other, breaking off to smile and to touch as though each was a newly discovered treasure, Madelyn thought.
* * *
When they made their way downstairs at last they found Richard reading in a chair before the fire, a carafe of wine at his elbow.
‘Is dinner quite ruined? I am so sorry,’ Madelyn said, trying not to blush.
‘Your admirable cook sent up a few minutes ago to say that all is under control and dinner will be served as soon as you ring. The soup course, apparently, will allow time for everything else to be presented in good order.’
Madelyn rang and they took their places at the table. ‘Finish the story of what Mr Lansing has been doing,’ she said. ‘Then we can forget about him.’
