Page 60 of Her Beautiful Bastard
Sinclair cupped her face with his free hand, then lowered his head to kiss her brow. “Thank you.”
Taking his hand, she kissed his knuckles, the bruises having almost completely faded, the swelling gone. “Anything, Sinclair … anything you need.”
“Later,” he murmured, his knuckles now stroking her cheek in a tender caress. “Tonight. For now, I have to—”
“You do not need to explain,” she said swiftly, wanting him to know she did not begrudge him the time he needed, the space required for him to lay his wife to rest. “I am here, always.”
With a nod, he turned away, both arms now around Henry as he left the room. Lydia moved slowly back to her desk, sinking into the chair behind it and burying her face in her hands. She wept for Sinclair and Henry, and yes, even for Lady Clayton, who had suffered so much during her last weeks of life. The woman had hurt Sinclair, almost beyond repair, but Lydia would not have wished such torment upon her worst enemy.
After she had calmed, she stood from her desk and left the schoolroom. The rest of the day passed with a speed that left her breathless, as if time had decided to move forward at breakneck speed after the insufferable days and weeks it had dragged on leading up to this. Sinclair set Charles to work making preparations for Lady Clayton’s body to be taken to Belcourt, the family seat of her family, the Strattons. Her brother would want her buried there, and Sinclair wished to honor that. Word would be sent ahead that he and Henry would soon arrive with Drucilla’s body in tow. Lydia supposed that they would spend some time at Belcourt, as they should after the loss of a family member.
They would set out the following day, which would leave her here at Buckton with Charles and the other servants to await their return. Yet, as she left her room that evening, her thoughts were not of how much she would miss them, or what might happen once they returned. Her thoughts were only of Sinclair as she approached his chamber, finding the door hanging open.
She found him inside, sitting in the dark upon the bed, head in his hands. He looked as if he’d been there for hours without moving, the rise and fall of his shoulders the only indication that he even breathed.
Without hesitation, she entered the room, crossing to his bedside table and finding a lamp there. She quickly lit it, then closed the door, closeting them from the rest of the house. He glanced up as she approached, blinking as if just coming out of a daze. Kneeling between his parted legs, she reached for him, taking his face into her hands and bringing him to her for a kiss.
He released a sigh against her lips, giving himself over to her, leaning forward to let her loop her arms around his neck as she kissed him—soft, tender kisses that spoke to him of her sadness on his behalf, her grief for Henry’s sake. She released his lips, peppering his face with more affection, her lips touching his eyelids, his brow, his cheeks, the line of his jaw.
He reached for her, hands tight on her shoulders as he held her close. “Lydia … my angel.”
She kissed his lips again, then pulled back to stare into his eyes. “I’m here. Let me take care of you.”
His haggard appearance spoke of his exhaustion, the dark smudges under his eyes and lines around his mouth making her heart ache for him. Nodding in response, he submitted to her, dropping his hands and waiting quietly, patiently.
She rose to her feet, glancing about for the bell cord used to summon his valet. “Your valet. If I send for him, will he …”
“He will be discreet,” he said when she trailed off.
Satisfied with that, she pulled the bell cord and waited patiently for the man to arrive.
“Send for a hot bath for Mr. Clayton,” she said once the valet entered, eyes going wide at finding her in the room of his master. “And a light supper, as well … whatever can be scrounged from the kitchen will do. As quickly as you can, please.”
When the valet cast a nervous glance to his master, Sinclair nodded. “Do whatever she says, all of you.”
He nodded. “Right away, Mr. Clayton … Miss Darling.”
She did not have time to worry over the valet’s reaction, or whether or not he might gossip to the other servants about what went on in the master’s chamber. She only knew that Sinclair needed her and that he had gone so long without having a person to care for him like this, to worry over him and soothe his hurts. The time had come for him to have that, and she would be the one to give it to him.
While they waited for the bath, she busied herself about the chamber, lighting another lamp and a few tapers, as well as stoking the fire in the hearth. By the time the valet returned with several footmen carting a large copper tub, she’d set the room alight with a yellow glow, drawn the curtains, and coaxed him to the table near the fire so that she could turn down his bed. She persuaded him to attempt to eat the light meal that had been sent from the kitchen while she helped to prepare his bath.
He ate in silence, his gaze blank and unfocused as he mechanically placed the food into his mouth and chewed, hardly looking as if he even registered the taste of it. Once the tub was filled, she dismissed the servants and then urged him up from his place at the table, noticing he had finished eating.
Her hands moved swiftly and deftly as she began undressing him—untying his cravat, then pulling his coat off his shoulders before attacking the buttons of his waistcoat. She knelt to remove his boots and peel off his stockings, leaving his breeches for last.
Her gaze moved over his body, beautiful in its masculinity and hardness. She had missed the sight of him, as they had not been together since their first night—at least not physically. He’d come to her many evenings to simply lie in her arms, and even that she had reveled in, having dreamt of being with him in such a way for so long.
She paused for a moment to place a kiss against his chest, his soft hairs tickling her lips. Then, she took his hand and led him to the tub. He climbed inside at her prompting and sank into the water with a sigh. She tended him deliberately, slowly, soaping her hands and using them to wash him. She scrubbed his arms and chest, working the suds into his skin with efficiency as well as love, caressing every inch of him and attempting to massage away as much of the hurt as she could. She had him stand so she could reach the parts of him hidden by the water, then once he sank back into the depths again, she cupped her hands and gathered water to wet his hair before cleaning it, using her nails to soothe his scalp. By the time she’d finished, he lay there with his head resting against the tub, eyes closed. She left him there for a moment, allowing him to relax, but rousing him once she realized he’d begun to fall asleep.
Urging him from the tub, she dried him herself, rubbing the water from his skin and squeezing as much of it from his hair as she could. Then, she took his hand again and led him to the bed, coaxing him down onto the sheets. While he lay there, naked, watching her, she backed away from the bed and began to undress. His dark eyes glittered in the lamplight as he watched her open her gown and drop it to her feet, then swiftly remove her stays, petticoat, and chemise, leaving them all in a pile on the floor.
He opened his arms to her when she climbed into bed, gathering her close as she pulled the counterpane over them both. They lay facing one another, legs intertwined, eyes locked. He reached up to move a stray lock of hair back from her face, his touch agonizing and tender all at once. It had not seemed right to be with him physically with Lady Clayton ailing in the same house, and it still felt wrong, lying in bed with him next to the room in which she had just died that morning. Yet, she could not have left him for anything just then, her need to be here for him when he most needed it overwhelming any guilt she might feel.
“I must leave tomorrow,” he murmured, resting his hand at the curve of her waist and leaving it there.
“I know,” she replied. “I will miss you, but it’s what must be done.”
He nodded. “Yes. But, I’ve been thinking … perhaps now might be a good time for you to visit your family.”
