Hugh ran his thumb over her bottom lip, imitating what she had done just moments ago. ‘You know, you are very beautiful, Eleanor,’ he whispered as he leaned in and claimed her lips again, kissing her softly before drawing back, grinning. ‘And you’re diverting me in the most unexpected way. I thank you.’
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and then pushed up, sitting straight in the tub, jerking her to sit across him.
‘But now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I wish to get out.’
He gripped the side of the bath, indicating that this diversion, however pleasant, was now at an end. He seemed eager to get back to wallowing in misery on his own.
Eleanor knew she was being gently dismissed, but couldn’t quite move away. She sat on top of him instead, watching him, exhaling quick puffs of air, trying not to think of his nakedness submerged in the opaque bath water.
Hugh caught her gaze, his eyes narrowing. She felt the hardness of his manhood, even against the many layers of wet clothing, but surprisingly it didn’t alarm her. Instead, a rush of heat flooded her senses.
‘Eleanor...?’ he murmured, looking into her eyes, seeking answers.
His breathing seemed to match hers, slow and gasping, and her heartbeat was pounding in the stillness of the moment as they continued to stare at each other. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and then leaned in to press her lips to his again. Her response given, Hugh drew her close and kissed her deeply, with such passion and intensity that she felt she was melting into him.
She tried to match him, kiss for kiss. But Hugh eased away from her lips to kiss her cheeks, and then the soft flesh behind her earlobes. Nipping gently, his mouth moved to savour the side of her neck as she trembled.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked, running his hands down the sides of her shoulders.
She shook her head, unable to say the words, making him smile. His gaze held such intent, such desperate longing, it shifted something deep inside her.
‘Eleanor...?’ He groaned. ‘Is this what you want?’
She watched him, wondering whether his heart was beating as fast as hers.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’
In one swift motion Hugh rose from the bath, taking her with him, and set her down close to the hearth, where the fire spread its warmth. He began to dry her with soft lengths of linen cloth, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he dried himself and wrapped another piece of cloth around his waist, securing it tightly. He, too, was breathing heavily as he stepped forward and scooped Eleanor into his arms, capturing her mouth, kissing her deeply.
He carried her to set her down to stand on the rug, and her toes curled into the depths of the soft pile of the wool as warmth flooded her.
‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you, Eleanor of Tallany.’ He cupped the side of her face tenderly. ‘But I wanted you to come to me yourself, when you were ready. This was always to be your choice.’
She reached out and traced his lips with the tips of her fingers, making him groan, and then touched her own, swollen with the lingering effects of his devastating kisses.
‘It is, Hugh,’ she whispered.
She touched the scar that split his eyebrow and placed a kiss where her fingers had been. Then she continued to trace the long, deep battle scars, echoing her own hidden ones, and explored the hard muscles of his shoulders and back.
She heard Hugh’s breath catch as her hands caressed the lean, muscular ridges of his chest, biceps and stomach. She gazed, fascinated, at the smattering of hair that drifted over his chest and trailed down his stomach, disappearing underneath the wrapped linen cloth.
She suddenly wanted to know more, wanted to see where the trail would end, and reached instinctively to remove the cloth.
Hugh’s hand shot out, clasped her fingers in his, grinning. Then slowly, so exquisitely slowly, he peeled away her layers of heavy, waterlogged clothing, his hands skimming over her, learning the curves of her body, replacing the layers of wet, clinging garments with the explorative touch of his mouth and his hands.
Gradually the outline of Eleanor’s body was revealed, until there was only one last layer of clothing. His fingers slowly went to the hem of her tunic, lifting it a little higher. A warning darted through Eleanor, reminding her to be cautious. There were parts of her body she could never expose, knowing they would only disgust Hugh.
She pulled away.
‘Do you wish me to stop, Eleanor?’ he asked, curling a tendril of her hair around his finger.
‘No, no... But...’ she took in a deep breath ‘...I will remove my tunic.’
‘A little too late for maidenly modesty, don’t you think, wife?’
His eyes smouldered as he raked her from her head to her toes and then back again.
‘If you wouldn’t mind turning around, husband?’
Hugh chuckled softly with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘But I can see all of you anyway.’
‘Humour me, please?’
Hugh shook his head but complied, turning his back on Eleanor. As soon as he did so she peeled off the last layer of wet clothing, threw it on the floor and bounded into bed, dragging the coverlet up to her chin.
Incredibly, Eleanor wasn’t scared about what was about to happen between them. She was nervous, yes—but not scared. Not any more.
Her heart was pounding as she lay naked on her back under the bedding, but she knew the