Echoes in Stone (25 page)

Without thinking, she used her right hand. With a small cry, she pulled it back, cradling it against her waist.

“That will teach you not to argue with me,” he said. “Until I have you clean, bandaged, fed, and tucked into bed, you will cease quarrelling with me and defer to my greater wisdom. Is that understood?” He cocked a stern eyebrow at her. His reward was the ghost of a smile from Jessa.

“I surrender, Dash.”

The words nearly brought him to his knees. Calm. Distant. Dispassionate. He lectured himself, but his cock was paying no attention. It stirred in his trousers.

“Now, I’m going to remove the rest of your clothes. Will you be all right with me doing that?”

A blush brought much needed color to Jessa’s pale cheeks.

Dash gave her an encouraging smile, relieved when she returned it with a shy one of her own. “That’s my girl. It’s just a bath. I’ve already seen everything there is of you. No need to be embarrassed.”

Jessa shivered again.

Dash turned, pulling one of the warmed towels from the rack near the stove. “Wrap this around yourself while I put the hot water in the tub. Then we’ll finish undressing and get you into the water.”

“We?” Jessa choked out the word. “What do you mean,
we’ll
finish undressing?”

Dash didn’t answer, but turned to empty two of the buckets of hot water into the tub.

Jessa stood in her camisole and petticoats, the towel wrapped around her shoulders like a fluffy shawl. Her boots peeked out from under the fall of white cotton ruffles.

Damn. He’d forgotten her shoes. “Sit back down. I can’t let you bathe with your boots on. I need a bath every bit as much as you do. Those rooms were grimy.” He glanced down at his shirt, soiled not only from his frantic search for her, but from where he’d held her so tightly against his chest.

Damn. He should have had Winston bring a bottle of brandy before he’d thrown him out of the room. It would have eased Jessa’s pain. The hot water would have to suffice for now. There’d be time for warm, reviving spirits later.

He’d ripped off his cravat some time earlier. God only knew in what forgotten corner Winston would find it. He undid the ties at his throat, then yanked the shirt over his head, tossing it onto the heap of gray fabric that used to be Jessa’s dress. He was going to see to it the hideous monstrosity was burned. He hated that dress.

Jessa had managed to reseat herself on the bench, struggling with the laces on her boots with one hand while trying to keep the towel wrapped around her shoulders with the other.

Dash knelt in front of her once more, gently pushing her back to lean against the wall behind her. “I can do this faster. I don’t want the water to get cold. Let me take care of this for you.”

He didn’t wait for her response. He untied her boots, loosened the laces, then slid them off. Without giving her a chance to think, he slid his hands under her petticoat, untied her garters, then slid her stockings down her legs. While he was performing this service, he probed her calves and ankles, checking for any further injury. The color rose further in her cheek. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t wince or cry out. The study leather of her boots must have provided some measure of protection.

He sat on the bench next to her, tugging off his own boots, no easy feat without Winston to assist. He rose, standing before her.

“Quickly now for the rest of it, then into that lovely warm water for us. No protesting now.” Dash suited words to actions. He didn’t dare give himself time to think. Mindful of her bruised arms, he pulled Jessa to her feet, pushed aside the towel, and undid the ribbon holding the camisole closed over her breasts. Steam from the water heating on the stove swirled in the room, casting a misty quality to the air.

In the cooler air, Jessa’s nipples peaked under the thin fabric. Dash swallowed hard. His cock, already half hard, stirred at the silhouette of her full breasts.
Steady now
, he counseled his cock,
it won’t do to overset her further
. His cock refused to listen.

“If you can manage the rest, I’ll just add some salts to the water.” He turned from her and clenched his teeth, willing his body to temper its response to her. He uncorked one of the bottles on the ledge, emptying a handful of crystals into the steaming water. Behind him, the rustle of fabric falling to the floor was punctuated by a grunt of pain. He spun back to Jessa.

Petticoats and drawers lay heaped at her feet. She struggled to lift her camisole over her head. He hissed his breath through clenched teeth. The skin she’d exposed, around the ribs on her right side, was already beginning to purple.

He leapt to help her. “Steady now, Jessa. I have you. You don’t have to do it all yourself.” If he had a knife, he would’ve cut the damn camisole from her. He did the next best thing. He seized the flimsy garment and rent it in two. Her breasts sprang free. Dash gulped.

He plucked her off her feet, careful to avoid her bruised ribs. Her skin—warm under his fingers, smooth against his chest. He walked down the steps of the tub, heedless of his trousers and stockings. Gently, he lowered her into the warm water, then waded back out to remove the remainder of his clothes. Jessa’s sigh enticed his member into greater fullness. He only hoped the gathering steam would hide at least some of his body’s inappropriate responses from her.

He turned to find Jessa leaned back against the side of the tub, her eyes closed, her smile blissful. Her arms floated in the water. Her full breasts, likewise, crested at water level. He swallowed hard, then clenched his jaw. Bathing Jessa, without devouring her like the animal Lily had always called him would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

For the first time in years, the thought of Lily did not act as an instant dousing of his ardor. Jessa’s soft moan drove him to a kind of madness even Lily had never managed.

33.

I saw her die…

JESSA OPENED HER eyes at the sound of splashing water, to see Dash sinking into the tub with her. While large enough for two, it was close quarters when one of the two was the size of Dash Tremayne. He sat across from her, the water below chest level on him. The inky hair on his chest formed wet whorls. His knees were bent, his legs spread on either side of her. The rough hair of his legs glided against hers.

Lavender-scented steam rose around them. Jessa breathed it in. Her aches were easing, the terror of that dark stairwell receding with them. Dash was right. They’d talk later. Now, she only wanted to be clean and warm. To feel safe. So accustomed to dealing with life on her own, she found herself welcoming Dash’s care.

Lights glimmered in the wall sconces. The heat wrapped around her, cocooning her. No harm would come to her for this little while.

“Jessa?”

“Hmmm?” She must have been half drowsing. She opened her eyes to see Dash leaning toward her.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve put you on the wrong side of the tub. All the soaps are behind you. Will you be all right if I lean over you to retrieve them?”

“I can get them,” she said. She started to turn, but Dash’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. That, and the pain in her ribs. She laid back against the tub.

Dash rose half out of the water, then leaned over her to reach for the soap behind her. His face was mere inches from hers. She raised her hand, placing it on his scarred cheek.

He looked down into her eyes.

She was lost.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss. His lips probed hers, firm, gentle, searching her mouth just as his hands had searched her body for injury.

Passion ignited.

He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids.

She returned each kiss, nuzzling his cheek, his throat. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, holding him as he held her. She rubbed her cheek against the stubble on his, glorying in the rough sensation.

“Oh God, Jessa, I was so—.” His voice whispered, harsh in her ear. “I thought— Oh hell, I don’t know what I thought. I only knew I needed to find you.”

“Hush, Dash. I’m here. I’m fine.”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing the pulse beating there. His scarred cheek rested in the palm of her hand, the flesh both puckered and yet oddly smooth. She turned, and boldly ran the tip of her tongue along the length of the scar, from its inception point just above his eyebrow, along the curve of his cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth.

He gasped, tried to pull away, but Jessa held his head as firmly as he held hers. She wouldn’t allow it. When she reached the corner of his lips, she plunged her tongue into his open mouth, meeting his in a searing kiss.

It was Dash who broke the kiss. He threw his head back, his eyes closed. “Jessa, dear God, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Before she could answer, Dash put his hands under her arms, pulling her against his chest. He lay back in the tub, taking her with him.

She lay on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. The water lent her buoyancy, but Dash held her trapped against him.

He wrapped his legs around her thighs, while his hand stroked the length of her back, kneading, massaging the sore muscles as he went.

She arched against him, stretching like a cat.

Dash groaned into her ear, then threw his head back, his eyes closed. His rampant cock formed a hard ridge against her belly. She rubbed against it, yearning for the return of the incredible sensations of the previous night. She licked Dash’s exposed throat, uttering a soft moan into his ear.

His eyes popped open. He pushed away from her. “Jessa, we have to stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this.” Dash shook the water from his hair.

“Why? Why do we have to stop? Did I ask you to?” Jessa growled her hurt, her frustration. How could this stupid, stubborn man not see she wanted him, that she needed him?

Dash didn’t answer. He maneuvered her back to her side of the tub, then retrieved the soap and a soft washing cloth. “Let me take care of you for just awhile, Jessa mine. Let me get you cleaned up. Then we’ll talk.”

Jessa’s rebelliousness must have shown on her face. Dash gave her another mock stern look. “I know you’re a strong, independent, intelligent woman, perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But for now, relent, just a little. Let someone else be the responsible one. Can you do that, just for a few minutes?”

Faint purple smudges caused shadows under his eyes. His brow was furrowed. His worry for her was evident in every line.

She raised her arm, wordlessly holding it out to him.

Dash had been holding his breath, but now blew it out. He soaped the washing cloth, then eased it down the proffered arm.

She forced herself to remain calm, pliant under his hands. She lay back, closing her eyes, giving herself over to the sensation of being cared for.

Dash dropped the washing cloth on the side of the tub. The wet
plop
startled her eyes open.

“Your hair first, I think,” he whispered. Oblivious to his nudity, he climbed from the tub, splashing across the room to retrieve another bucket of warm water. When he returned, he didn’t rejoin her in the tub, but spread a towel on the floor behind her, then knelt on it. One by one, he pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble into his lap.

“Like silk. God.” He barely stifled a moan.

Jessa smiled. So, he enjoyed the feel of her hair as it lay against his privates?

“Lean forward, Jessamine.” He slowly poured a measure of water over her head, then filled his hands with something sweet smelling from one of the bottles, soothing it into the tangled mass of her hair. The scent of vanilla swirled around her, mixing with the lavender of the bath salts. His strong hands worked the soap into her scalp. With his thumbs, he massaged the base of her skull under the wet hair, easing the tension knotted there.

She sighed in pleasure.

Dash sighed in response, but his sigh sounded more like frustration.

Good. Now he knew how she felt.

“I’ve always loved your hair Jessa. It’s a beautiful color, like sunshine on a field of wheat.” Dash leaned forward, his voice soft in her ear. “I loved seeing it spread out across the cushions in my study. I’d love to see it—” Dash leaned back. “Forget I said that. I had no business saying that.” He blew out another frustrated breath.

Jessa tried to turn to look at him, but Dash held her head in place while he continued to rub suds through her hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dash cut her off.

“No. Not now. Just rest. Please, Jessa.”

He poured clean water over her head, rinsing away the soap, blocking any further attempts at speech.

She was content to let herself be cared for. For now. Later, she’d make him listen to her. She knew what she’d seen in that room.

She jerked straight up. Lily was alive. She had to convince Dash of that.

The unexpected move nearly caused Dash to tumble headfirst into the tub. Agile as ever, he caught himself, rocking back on his heels.

She leapt up from the water, spinning to face him. The cooler air touched her, sending goose bumps prickling along her skin. She sat back down with a splash, facing Dash. “Oh my stars. How could I have forgotten?” She stared at him, her hands on her flaming cheeks. “Dash. Lily is alive. No.” She raised her hand to stop him. “I know you don’t believe me, but I know what I saw. Dash, being here with you, like this—” She waved her hand, pointing out their state of undress. “It’s bad enough under any circumstances, but— Oh Dash! Lily is alive!” Jessa gulped air like a just-landed fish. “You’re married. Not only am I behaving in a wholly wanton, and socially unacceptable, manner, I’m doing so with a married man!” Her words ended on a wail. She dropped her face into her hands.

The water sloshed in waves around her. Dash, once more in the tub with her, gathered her into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. He shifted her, pulling her onto his lap. The cold air—and her words—must have had some affect on him. His earlier ardor was less evident.