Page 41 of To Heist and to Hold
But she did not condemn what he had done.Instead she said, voice quiet, “I’m sorry I brought up memories that bring you such pain.”
He shrugged, even as he was achingly aware of a deep relief that he had not turned her away from him.“Most of my memories bring me pain.But, strangely enough, it feels freeing telling you about them.”And then, after a heavy pause, “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly.
While Ethan would have been content with the bath, his entire body feeling decidedly pampered, Heloise, it seemed, was not through with her ministrations.Before he knew what she was about, she had maneuvered him onto the bed and on his stomach.The sheets were pleasantly cool beneath him after the warmth of the bath, and this, combined with the darkness of the room and the soft sounds of her moving about, nearly lulled him to sleep.
Until she joined him on the bed.But it was not to seduce him as he’d dearly hoped.No, she positioned herself on her knees beside him, clothed only in her chemise, and placed a tray on the bed near his head.
“Now,” she said as the tinkling of glass echoed throughthe room, “just relax.”
Alarm shot through him, banishing the last remnants of tiredness.The only time anyone ever told a person to relax was when something unpleasant was coming.You trust her, he hastily reminded himself.But it didn’t seem to do a bit of good.After all, when one was bare-arsed naked one could not be too suspicious, especially when it came to surprises.He braced his hands on the bed, ready to rear up and bolt out of her reach.
Until her hands, those wonderfully strong yet graceful hands, splayed over his back.Warm and slick, they pressed into his scars, moving in slow, firm circles.
But this was not unpleasant at all.In fact, it felt good.Quite good.“W-what…?”
“It’s oils,” she murmured softly.“Lavender, like before.But mixed with primrose and rose hip.All conducive to easing the discomfort of your scars.That, along with the massage, will do much to bring you relief.”
He was silent as she continued working.No, he was speechless; there was a decided difference.Full as his heart was, words would not form.The bath had been one thing.This, however, was something more.Her fingers pressed into his skin, down into his muscles, easing tension he had not even known was there.The slickness allowed her hands to move unfettered, the warmth of the oils sinking into his scars and to his very bones.He groaned as her fingers, those wonderful fingers, found a particularly tight spot in his skin.
She pulled back immediately.“Did I hurt you?”
“God, no,” he moaned.“Please, don’t stop.”
She huffed a surprised chuckle.And then her hands were back just where he wanted them.Her fingers were clever as they worked, pressing into his skin, down into hismuscles, bringing him a relief he had never thought possible.He had believed all this time that discomfort would be his bedfellow for the remainder of his life, that the trauma of his past would forever mar him, both inside and out.
Now, however, Heloise was soothing his scars, bringing him such comfort as he’d never experienced.And he began to wonder deep down inside if she couldn’t begin to heal his heart as well.
The thought so shocked him, he could not breathe.Where the devil had that come from?His heart didn’t need healing.But even as he told himself that he had not experienced any damage to that useless organ, that there was nothing to damage, he knew it wasn’t true at all.He thought then of all the pain and devastation that had touched him over the years, causing his life to veer off course in heartbreaking ways.From his father leaving, to the false theft accusation, to the punishment after, to his mother’s ensuing death.And then after, the worst one of all, Gavin’s betrayal and death.Each of those things had molded him, shaped him, as surely as a sculptor shaped a ball of clay.But it was not a beautiful vase that had been the outcome of it all, but something misshapen, with cracks and dents and gaping holes.Something that no one in their right mind would ever want to claim.
Yet here was Heloise, with her healing touch and kind heart, who either intentionally or unintentionally was smoothing out those defects, making him whole in a way he had never thought possible.
His breath hitched in his chest, surprising him.And Heloise as well, if the way her hands stilled was any indication.
“Ethan?”she asked, voice soft.Which only succeeded in making his breath hitch again.What the ever-loving hell was wrong with him?
“I’m fine,” he said.But the words came out as a croak.And he recognized the lie in them.He was not fine, and he hadn’t been in a very, very long time.
Heloise somehow understood immediately.Placing the tray on the side table, wiping the oil from his back with a soft towel, she gently urged him up the bed and under the sheets.Then, climbing in beside him, she pulled him into her arms.
It was a simple, sweet act, not sexual in the slightest, offering comfort.And it broke something in him, that seemingly impenetrable dam he had built up over the years.It crumbled to dust as she cradled his head to her chest, dragging her fingers through his hair in soft strokes.He did not cry, of course.He never cried.Yet he could not deny the moisture that tracked down his cheeks as he lay there in the quiet, held in her embrace.And as the exhaustion of the morning finally claimed him, and he felt himself falling headfirst into a dreamless sleep, he knew he had somehow, someway, fallen in love with her.
20
It occurred to Heloise some hours later that she should have taken advantage of Ethan falling asleep so totally and completely.She still had not located the jewels, after all, and the date of the Ayersleys’ anniversary ball was quickly looming closer.And what was this affair with Ethan for, if not gaining access to the private places in Dionysus so she might find said jewels?
But Julia and her dilemma had been far from Heloise’s mind when she’d held Ethan as he had drifted off into slumber.No, the only thing on her mind had been Ethan, and the emotions he’d dredged up in her as he’d held back, much to her shock, tears.
Had she expected her actions to touch him as much as they had?No.But she had been even more unprepared for how his response had affectedher.All she had wanted to do when she’d heard that telltale hitch in his breathing was to hold him and never let go.Even now, as she banked the fire in her forge and put her tools away and washed herself at the basin after several hours at her anvil, she wanted nothing more than to return to his side.She had a job to do, she attempted to remind herself as she left her workshop and made her way through the back garden of the Wimpole Street house, and she’d best focus on that and that alone.
Yet no matter how many times she repeated it, it was a faint thing in her head, drowned out by the louder voice telling her that Ethan could not possibly be guilty of the crimes she had thought him responsible for.
Reaching her room, she changed into a simple muslin gown before falling into a tired heap in the wingback chair nearest the window.She was exhausted in body, yes.This past week she had felt like one of the tightrope walkers she had seen once during a visit to Vauxhall Gardens, balancing on the thinnest rope, trying to keep everyone and everything balanced along with her.One wrong move one way or the other and she would fall, bringing it all down with her.
But there was also an exhaustion of spirit.She had believed this whole endeavor to be straightforward and simple: Those at Dionysus had taken so much from Julia, and she and the Widows would take it back, even if it meant ruining the club.
Now she didn’t know what to believe.Or what to do about it.Though she knew she needed to see this thing through, with Julia’s very life on the line if she did not, the realization that she was deceiving Ethan, who had known so much pain and heartbreak, had her feeling sick to her stomach.
