Page 83 of Madcap with a Marquess
She peered at him and caught his smile before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Rupert carried her into the bathing chamber and helped ease her into the steaming water. Her breath hitched as her skin met with warmth, and then she melted into it with a satisfied sigh. Glorious. Absolutely glorious.
“Let’s start with your hair. After that, you can lie back and relax.”
She sat up for him, working with him as he wet her hair. He massaged the soap through the strands, the scent of citrus filling the air. He inhaled deeply and then chuckled softly. “So, that’s where the scent comes from.”
“Hmm?” It came out half question, half moan. Because his fingers massaging her scalp? She could get used to this. She quite liked this worship after their clashing.
“I could never place your scent. Tangy, almost citrusy, mixed with flowers and freedom.”
“You enjoy smelling me, do you?” Franny meant for it to come out saucy, but it only came out sleepy.
Rupert laughed softly again. “I enjoy doing quite a lot of things to you.”
He gently tilted her head back so he could rinse her hair. Then he helped her settle against the back of the tub, carefully running a towel over her tresses.
Water splashed, followed by the slick glide of soap. His strong fingers moved over her chest, then down to her belly. Gentle, unhurried. Nothing sensual, just pure tenderness. He lifted her arm next, running the soap over her skin in slow, deliberate strokes, working up a rich lather before following with firm, kneading fingers.
He repeated the process for each limb, her body melting with every touch, sinking deeper into relaxation. When he reached her feet and pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot, she let out a low moan. They might need to do this more often—him bathing her.
“I agree.” His voice had dropped, turned husky. Apparently, she had said that out loud. “But for now, you need rest. I’m going to take care of you, treasure you like you deserve, and then tuck you into bed.”
She deflated with a sigh. That sounded like perfection.
40
Rupert
Ruperthummedtohimselfas he made his way down the Rutledge staircase, the rosewood banister gleaming under his hand. No, that wasn’t quite right. He wasboundingdown the stairs. He grinned and gave the rail a pat.
He had tucked his well-loved, well-pleasured,and quite tired wife into bed. She was asleep before he’d even settled her on the mattress. He needed a bath of his own, but he couldn’t possibly sit still right now. His grin widened. God, what a feeling. Franny lit him up inside. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt as though up until he married Franny, he’d been a shell of a person, living a half-life. Now he was lighter, looser, free.
He couldn’t wait to explore his marriage with Franny. He had this strange feeling that something had just opened up between them, something untapped, full of potential and possibility. And it wasn’t just the intimacy—though that was incredible—but there was something about being absolved of that final part of himself he’d always been ashamed of. It had been the last barrier, and now he felt that with each day forward, he would finally be himself in his truest form.
He paused at the base of the stairs. The light gleamed gaily off the grey-and-white marble floors. A pair of footmen carrying a settee crossed his path. He stepped back to let them pass, catching his reflection in a freshly polished mirror. He chuckled. With his giddy grin and dirt-streaked face, he truly looked like a toddy-headed cake.
With a mock salute to the stranger staring back at him, he turned toward his study, sidestepping a maid dusting a marble bust in the hall. A muffled thumping floated from the room to his left, and he peered into the ground floor drawing room. Three maids worked vigorously, beating curtains.
What in God’s name was going on? The servants appeared to be readying the house for the Queen. Some of his lightness skittered away, unease chasing it off with snarling teeth.
He hurried back into the hall. Where was Sanderson?
“You called for me, my lord?”
Rupert’s head jerked back, and he blinked. He hadn’t thought he said that out loud… It was uncanny how butlers always seemed to appear when needed.
“Yes, what is going on here, Sanderson? What has the servants in such a frenzy?”
His butler’s countenance gave nothing away, but the unease worsened, pricking at Rupert’s skin with its claws.
“The dowager, Your Lordship. She arrives on the morrow.”
And just like that, Rupert froze over, no different from the Thames in the dead of winter.
41
Rupert
Tap,tap,tap.Rupertdrummed the letter in his hands on the surface of his desk. He glanced at the other two burning a hole in the rosewood surface. Three letters from his mother since that first one upon his arrival a fortnight ago. Three letters that he hadn’t opened. Four letters he hadn’t sent a single response to. He held the latest in his hand. The one he was sure would mention her visit. It was foolish, but he had pushed off opening it, like it would push off the inevitable. Her arrival. Today.
