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His eyes twinkle with his smile. “If that’s all you’d like.”
The thought of all the other things he might do for other women—and men—he could have brought into this room brings back my hesitation. “You know I wouldn’t— I’d neverexpectthis from you because of the work you do. I wouldn’t hire you, if I could even afford to. I mean, not because you’re not very appealing and everything. Er. It just isn’t the sort of thing… the sort of thing I’d feel okay about doing.”
I’m not sure if I’ve made a whole lot of sense in my babbling, but Casimir’s smile stays in place as he returns to me. “You don’t have to worry. I don’t see it that way. Think of it as—if you were friends with a baker, they might bake you a cake to cheer you up after a hard day. You’re friends with me, so you get a bath.”
I consider the bubbles. “It does look like a very nice bath.”
“I take pride in my work, even more so when it isn’t really work at all.” Casimir pauses, and his eyes soften. “I’ll take your word for it that there are no wounds unaccounted for. Let me know when you’re ready for the rest of your pampering.”
He turns his back to me to start looking through the paraphernalia on the shelves as if that’s exactly what he always intended to be doing. Letting me finish undressing without any spectators.
The unstated understanding in the gesture melts the last of my hesitation.
My broken soul might rip me right in two by this time tomorrow. What have I got to lose?
I shimmy out of the gown and my underthings quickly. As I unwind Linzi’s ribbon carefully and set it with the pile, Julita’s presence stirs.I can’t believe I never realized. I suppose you weren’t in the habit of ogling your own chest while you were changing.
Quite purposefully, once I knew she was inside me. I feel strange talking to her with Casimir right here, so I simply shrug and clamber into the tub.
The steaming water envelopes my body in a delectably warm embrace. The sweet scent of the bubbles fills my lungs.
I exhale in a sigh, tipping my head against the arched back of the tub.
Yes, this is nice.
Not that it makes any difference to me,Julita goes on.Even without any godlen ties, you clearly know right from wrong. I don’t think I’d mention it to Stavros, though.
I raise an eyebrow as if to say,No kidding.
“How are you getting on there, my friend?” Casimir asks in a tone as warm as the water.
I hum contentedly. “I’m feeling pretty pampered already.”
He laughs. “Oh, it can get much better than this. Let’s get started with your hair. I’d imagine it’s been a long time since you had anyone to help you wash it.”
Not since I was a child of six or seven. I can’t remember if Ma stopped attending to me that closely in the bath before she realized I was a monster or only after.
The clash of memories brings back the ache in my chest, but the press of Casimir’s fingers moving deftly over my scalp soon whisks the turmoil away.
He stops for a moment with a whisper of fabric, and I realize he’s taken off his shirt. To avoid getting it wet, presumably, but I can’t help regretting that I’m missing the view with him behind me.
Kneeling, he eases my head back into the water to ensure my hair is totally soaked. Then he works a lavender-scented soap into the pale locks.
As his fingers move down to the nape of my neck, a starker heat seeps through my veins. It’s difficult not to imagine how those skillful hands would feel tending to other parts of my body.
Well,Julita murmurs.I can’t say I mind getting to experience Casimir at work. He does know what he’s doing. But I think perhapsIshould give you a little more privacy… to enjoy yourself fully. If I can slip deeper away like I did before, I won’t even know. Let’s see.
Her voice fades out. The faint tingling of her presence dwindles too, until it’s the barest tickle at the back of my skull.
Did she notice some sign that Casimir is about to do something I’d rather have private? My pulse stutters.
But after the courtesan douses my hair with water, he sits back on his heels. “We have a salve that helps scars heal. I’m not sure how much effect it’ll have on older ones, but I’m happy to try if you’d like.”
I’ve never gotten a clear view of the ruddy lines that crisscross my back, but I don’t like the story they tell of my history. I’d happily see them gone for good.
“Worth a try,” I say, not looking too hard at the twinge of disappointment that passes through me. “Thank you.”
He retrieves a small jar full of greenish cream and has me sit up and lean forward so the upper half of my back is exposed. “Do they hurt at all still?”
