Page 86 of Unbound Duchess

She watched as his gaze slowly traveled up her right arm, over her bare shoulder, then to her throat.

“And your neck?” he asked. “Where does it hurt?”

Ellen only reached up and slid her still-trembling hand around the nape of her neck, tears forming in her eyes as she remembered the flash of pain from being shaken so violently. She dropped her hand away quickly.

Laurence followed the path her own hand had taken, his touch sending sparks of delight through her skin until he reached that place of hurt. When she felt his fingertips there, she squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself for the ache—but instead, Laurence’s careful fingers kneaded the flesh there, sending relief skittering down the bruised nerve endings. She could not help the whimper of relief that poured from her throat as he helped ease her pain.

It ended far too early, though, as a second later he slid his hand up the back of her head, and his lips came down in a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I will make it all better,” he murmured against her forehead. “If you will permit me to get in the bath with you?”

Ellen slowly lifted her head, suddenly far too tired to fight her wants with practical notions of space.

“Yes please,” she whispered.

For someone so afraid of hurting her, Laurence was utterly gentle as he helped her into the bath and eased her into the water. Ellen hissed at first at the warmth, but within a second, she felt her aching muscles beginning to relax. By the time Laurence climbed in behind her and guided her to lie on his chest, she felt like melted honey in his hands.

Part of her, the part that had long ago started longing for the man holding her, was acutely aware that for the first time, their naked bodies were flush against one another. She could feel his manhood at her lower back. Feel it pulse and stir to life. Even through her pain, she was tempted to feel more of him, but she didn’t. Instead, she lay still, letting her head be cushioned by his muscular chest and her body be washed gently by his powerful hands.

“You were so brave today,” Laurence’s husky voice whispered into her ear.

With effort, Ellen opened her eyes. His washing had been so soothing, so lulling, that she had nearly fallen asleep.

“I was a fool,” she murmured back. “I should have listened to you. You deserve to be angry at me.”

To her surprise, a throaty chuckle was Laurence’s first response, followed by a kiss on the shell of her right ear that sent pleasure scurrying through her veins.

“I think you deserve to be angry with me as well,” he replied, trailing his fingertips up her arms and to her shoulders. “But I am willing to participate in a mutual apology and then move on, if you are.”

Yes. She supposed she did deserve to be angry with him. Keeping the secret of her father’s demise to himself had hurt her at first. However, like him, with everything that happened that day, she was willing to let it go.

“Apology accepted,” she sighed tiredly.

“Apology accepted,” he agreed, nuzzling his chin lightly atop her head. His fingers then began their magic work again, massaging those aching muscles in her shoulders and at the back of her neck, and she nearly cried with the relief it brought her.

It was a long, quiet moment before she spoke again.

“I was not that brave,” she countered, the soreness leaving her body reminding her of her fight with Benedict under the bushes. “He still got the better of me. I was weak.”

Laurence’s fingers stilled their massaging for just a moment.

“Bravery isn’t about winning,” he countered, beginning his ministrations once again. “It is about doing what is right. You did not just allow him to take you, Ellen. You fought against him. You understand your worth and wants, and you fought to protect them. That is incredibly brave.”

Then he let out a chortle as he added, “I saw the wreckage under the bushes. You put up an amazing fight. He struggled greatly before he took a dirty advantage. I am so proud of you.”

Warmth surged through Ellen’s veins as she heard the genuine feeling in Laurence’s voice, and she could not help but smile at his words.

“If only I’d had a fire poker,” she dared to jest.

Laurence’s answering laugh was hearty and genuine, making his entire body shake and sending tiny ripples into the water. Her smile grew wider as she traced her fingertips along the water’s surface, chasing those little rings as if catching one would mean capturing Laurence.

Her smile started to slip as she realized she was having such a thought, but before she could dip into the sadness that was waiting for her, Laurence’s hands slipped down to her waist, and he wrapped his arms around her there as he nuzzled into her neck.

“You have no idea how relieved I am,” he rasped, his lips leaving long, sensual kisses over the nape of her neck and shoulders, “that you are alright. The panic I felt when Madalene told me you were gone was choking. I could not think or even see for a few seconds.”

Ellen swallowed, torn between the sensual touch of his kisses, the longing starting to ebb in her lower belly, and the heartache that she knew was just around the corner. Laurence worried for her. Protected her. Perhaps even cared for her.

He did not love her, though, and because of that, and now that Benedict was in prison, their marriage was going to cease to exist.