Page 160 of Kathryn

Kathryn could scarcely keep her eyes open as Gerrit dried off her wet, sex-flushed body. She was so lovely that it hurt to look at her. That was not hyperbole; he felt an actual ache in his groin as he carefully ran the soft flannel over her skin. His cock had been hard for the last half hour and the front of his breeches was obscenely tented. He desperately wanted to spread her out on his bed and bury himself inside her—claim her and wipe any association with Staines from her mind and body. But the night had been a difficult one for her, and the swollen side of her face had to be paining her, so he restrained his savage desire and gave her the tender care she needed and deserved.

“Time for bed,” he said once he’d finished.

She sat on the short stool and yawned and blinked up at him. “I need to comb out my hair and plait it or it will be a knotted mess.” She blew a damp spiral of hair out of her eyes.

“I will do it for you when you are in bed.” Gerrit leaned down to slide his arms around her and lift her.

She made a startled noise in her throat, one of her slim arms snaking around his neck. “Oh, you needn’t carry me. I can—”

“Kathryn.”

“Yes?”

“Let me take care of you.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her uncharacteristically obedient response a good indicator of just how tired she was.

Gerrit set her down on the high mattress and fetched his banyan from the dressing room, draping it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling it around her body.

Gerrit took his comb off the tray where Court kept it and climbed up on the bed. He pulled her into the V of his legs, put a pillow between her back and his chest so she could recline, and began carefully teasing out the snarls that had formed already.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, snuggling against him. “You are much gentler than Stone.”

Gerrit grunted, somewhat stunned by the enormity of the task. Good Lord she had a lot of hair.

By the time he finally worked his way through the last tangle Kathryn’s head was listing to one side. “Still awake?” he asked, setting the comb on his nightstand, and shaking out his cramping hand.

“You must p”—she gave a great yawn. “Sorry, you must plait it.” She turned just enough that her heavy-lidded gaze met his. “Do you know how?”

Gerrit nodded and painstakingly divided her hair into three thick ropes and commenced to braid it. Once he’d worked all the way down to the ends he frowned when he saw the results of his labors. Despite his careful efforts, one of the strands was thicker than the others and the thick plait was not quite centered on her back.

“Damnation,” he muttered quietly. He gritted his teeth and was about to undo it and start again when she yawned.

“So tired,” she murmured.

Gerrit dropped his hands, his fingers twitching and an oily sense of unease spreading in his belly at the unsymmetrical plait.

Kathryn twisted in his arms, her head lolling back on his shoulder as she gazed up at him. “Your eyes look just like the moon.”

Gerrit blinked. “Er, thank you?”

“They are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” she added, smiling drowsily.

He opened his mouth but did not know what to say. She liked his eyes?

You have eyes like a corpse! Christina had shouted at him the night Gerrit had told her he was taking her back to Spenwood and leaving her there. That he would no longer tolerate her fucking her way through the ton.

Kathryn gave a little shiver and pulled him out of his unhappy memory.

He turned back the blankets on the other side of the bed. “Let go of the robe and get beneath the covers,” he murmured, kissing her damp head.

She shrugged out of the robe and began to crawl across the bed. Gerrit knew the exact moment she realized the view she was affording him because her body stiffened. But fatigue was stronger than embarrassment and she quickly burrowed beneath the blankets, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Gerrit reluctantly left the bed long enough to return his comb and robe to their proper places and then he finished undressing, his gaze lingering on his wife’s sleeping face. Her swollen face.

He was furious that he’d let Staines go free. If he left Briarly right now, he could easily catch the man and exact the appropriate retribution.