Page 82 of Duke in Darkness

Gabriel snorted. “I am neither. Not anymore. Just a mess of scars. Wretched.”

“The loveliest thick hair and dark eyes.”

“A limp,” he said, scowling.

She put her hands on her hips. “Deliciously tall and broad-shouldered.”

“A drunk.”

“Eminently beddable.”

“You need spectacles. Ah, no. Wait. You’ve never seen me shirtless. This will clarify your thinking.”

Gabriel swiftly unfastened the single button at the throat of his fine linen shirt, and yanked the garment over his head. Now she would see the truth, for apart from his foot, his chest and back had suffered most at the hands of the French. Small, neat dagger cuts. Slashes from sabers and swords. Jagged, ridged scars where they had chained and beaten him. And small, circular ones from extinguished cigars and cheroots.

Lilian sucked in a whimpering breath, and he waited for it to turn into a scream. Or a swoon. For her to run. But instead she moved forward, until she stood barely two feet away from him.

“Thank you. My thinking is indeed clarified. You are even braver and more heroic than I knew. Much stronger. And so magnificent. When I dreamed of a husband, never did I think I would be so fortunate to have one such as you. A man I could happily spend the rest of my life with, and love with my whole heart.”

He stared at her, slack-jawed. “What?”

“I love you,” she whispered. Then louder: “I love you. Every part, including the scars. There is no need to hide them from me, for they represent your resilience. Your courage. Your service. And that is so very appealing.”

Obviously he had inhaled too much balm and was hallucinating. Surely his wife hadn’t just said she loved him. Or that she found him appealing. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Would you like me to show you? Tell me how, and I will.”

Gabriel stared at her, torn between hope and distrust. Her words had been beautiful. But he needed more. A demonstration of her love, her acceptance of his wretched body. Every inch of it. “Bathe me, then. See every scar in all its glory.”

“Very well.”

Ruthlessly, he tore the buttons at the waistband of his trousers, and pushed them down, holding onto the armchair so he didn’t lose his balance as he peeled them off. And for the first time, he stood fully naked in front of his wife. “There.”

Lilian bit her lip as her gaze flew from one scar to the next, but she didn’t flinch or cry or scream. Then her eyes met his again, and she said simply, “Where should I bathe you first?”

“You could wash my back,” he said slowly, as he stepped into the large copper tub and sat down, sighing as the thankfully still-hot water enveloped him in a warm embrace.

“Of course. If you don’t like it at any time, just tell me to stop and I will. This…we don’t have a pocket watch attached. However long it takes. Whatever it takes. Because my love is here to stay.”

Emotion surged through him at the soft declaration, so powerful his hands shook and his eyes burned. To hope for love was one thing. To hear it spoken, to see the truth in her eyes, to witness it in her compassion, her gentleness, her sweet submission…

Barely able to get the words out, he said hoarsely, “Soap and washcloth…is over there.”

Nodding, Lilian knelt beside the tub. After lathering the washcloth, she tentatively trailed the cloth over his neck and shoulders, before moving it down his scarred back and lightly scrubbing. “How is that?”

“Just fine.” How could a simple touch feel so good?

“Is there anywhere else you want me to bathe you?”

He met her gaze, caught her wrist in his hand, and pushed it onto his equally scarred chest. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away, and with the same tender care, washed his front.

“Good. Very good, Lili,” he said gruffly. “Now, lower. And be thorough.”

Her lips curved as she dragged the washcloth back and forth across his abdomen, before delving down further and swirling it around his rapidly hardening cock. Teasing. Tormenting.

“There,” she said at last, her cheeks flushed pink. “Nice and clean. Now, let me help you stand, and I’ll get you dried off.”

Climbing out of the copper tub would always be awkward because of his size, and his foot, but he eventually stood and allowed the excess water to run down the length of his body, as his cock rose up from its nest of coarse black hair. “Towel is over there. Unless of course…you plan to use your tongue.”