Page 58 of Crown of Roses
“I’m s-sorry.” Tremors shook through her shoulders and down her spine. Hot tears of humiliation pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Tiernan’s lip curled. With a flick of his wrist, the vomit vanished from the floor. But he looked utterly disgusted. Mortification stung Maeve’s cheeks and a tear slid down her nose, to her chin. She smelled of putrid bog water and was soaked in her own sweat. The traces of foulness lingered in every crevice of her body. Her hair was matted to her neck and face. And this bastard wanted to interrogate her.
Tiernan’s eyes widened. Amusement flickered, then vanished. “You have quite a lot to say.”
“I don’t like you,” she snarled, hating the fact that he’d read her thoughts again.
“Wonderful.” He stood back, took in the absolute wreck of her. “We’re even on that score.”
The Archfae turned on one boot and walked into the bathroom. The sound of rushing water filled her ears, and soon the sweet smell of plumeria and coconut filled the room. She breathed it in, relished in the tantalizing scent. It was vaguely familiar to her, but then Tiernan came back into the bedroom and reached for her.
Maeve jerked the sheets up around her for protection. “What are you doing?”
He sighed. A glint of aggravation. “I’m giving you a bath.”
She reared back, away from him. “What? Why?”
“One, because you reek of blood and sickness. And two,” he scooped her into his arms before she could protest, “I need you to answer my questions.”
She swallowed, hating the way he held her the way one might cradle a lover. “What kind of questions?”
“Questions about these.” Tiernan tapped one finger to the metal on her wrists and her heart sank. She didn’t want to talk to him about her cuffs. She didn’t want to talk to him about anything.
But when he set her down and her feet hit the marble floor, a delicious shiver settled deep into her bones. Steam filled the room, and the glorious scent was a luxury to her senses. Bubbles frothed and foamed in the huge soaking tub. Then she glanced down and shame settled upon her shoulders. She wore her nightgown from the battle. It was caked in blood and grime. She dared a glance in the mirror, and the reflection gazing back at her looked nothing like the woman she remembered. Her pallor was lackluster. Her eyes, hollow and sunken. She looked positively dead.
Her gaze landed on the bath. The inlaid tile around the edge sparkled like the scales of a mermaid. It was wide, probably capable of holding three full-sized humans—though, she supposed, that would only be the equivalent of two faeries. She was worried if she blinked, it would vanish like a figment of her imagination. The beautiful tub filled with tempting wonder looked fit for a queen. But she didn’t dare move. She couldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Tiernan’s words were short and bitter, like his temper.
“I…” She took a long, steadying breath, then met his eyes. “I’ve never had a bath before.”
The fae looked upon her like she’d sprouted an extra head, completely traumatized by her words. She shocked the High King so severely, he was rendered speechless.
“I’ve bathed,” she snapped, and irritation flared through her. How dare he think she had no sense of hygiene, the prick. “Always in showers. Never an actual tub.”
A beat of strange silence passed between them.
“Let’s remedy that, shall we?” He continued to watch her, and his gaze lingered in certain areas a bit too long.
She crossed her arms over her chest. A useless feat, considering her nightshirt was rail thin and tattered.
“Mortals and their modesty.” Tiernan rolled his eyes to the gilded ceiling, then raised both hands in defense. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”
Maeve didn’t believe him. The smirk on his face vanished right before he turned around and faced away from her. She stripped out of the nightshirt and it pooled around her feet. Using her toe, she edged it to the opposite side of the floor, not wanting to touch the filth mottling the fabric. On a breath, she gripped the curved pearl railing, and stepped down into the tub. The hot, silky water soothed the ache in her body and she gasped.
Tiernan whipped back around. “What is it?”
Maeve froze. She stood in front of him, ankle deep in the sudsy water, completely naked. “Nothing. I just…nothing.”
An emotion banked in his gaze and his eyes scalded everywhere they touched. Her shoulder, where the dark fae left its mark, still healing. Her breasts. Her stomach, and lower still, until every part of her was aflame from his fixation.
“Get. In. The. Tub,” he snarled.
“Okay.” Her voice came out in a harsh whisper, but even as she lowered herself fully into the hot, bubbly water, she couldn’t control the rapture bursting inside of her. A bath. She was going to take a bath. Scented water moved like satin over her skin, and when Maeve finally sank down to her shoulders, a small moan of pleasure escaped her.
Tiernan stood completely still; it didn’t look like he was breathing. “Better?”
Maeve could only nod because then he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and kneeling on the rug beside the tub. “What are you doing?”
