Page 70 of Wolf's Bane
Chapter 17
Aleksandar
Boxon Hill
Marechal House - The Bathing Room
The household wason alert for their arrival.
“Send for the doctor,” Alek said, carrying Solenne through to the bathing room. “She requires a bath, clean garments, a meal, and more of that tea. Get to it.”
“Bring me my kit,” Solenne added.
Travers followed Alek into the bathing room. Solenne lowered herself to a bench while he opened the taps. Travers lurked in the doorway with the maid peeking around him.
“Did you not understand my orders?” Alek asked.
“Sir, this is highly inappropriate. Surely a maid can assist Miss Marechal.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right, Travers. Congratulations are in order. We’re engaged,” Solenne said, speaking over Alek’s grumbled response.
“Congratulations?” The man looked dubious.
“Congratulations, Miss,” the maid said from behind Travers.
“Doctor, now,” Alek growled.
Travers and the maid sprang into action.
An inspired ancestor had built a practical shelf into the tiles above the cast iron tub. Jars of various salts, bottles of perfumed oil, and canisters of little soap cakes lined the shelf. Alek sniffed the jars and, finding the scent pleasing, dumped in the contents.
“That’s enough lavender,” Solenne said.
Filled nearly to the brim, steam rolled off the water. He eased Solenne to the tub’s edge. She ran a hand through the water and nodded, then accepted his help to remove the nightgown.
He crouched down to remove her boots. Carefully, he peeled away the sock from her swollen ankle. The injury looked serious.
She lowered herself into the water with a sigh. “Oh, it feels good to take those boots off.”
“How bad is your foot?”
“Only hurts when I put weight on it. I can move my toes.” She set her injured on the tub’s rim and wiggled her toes. “Nothing broken.”
She reached up for a cake of soap. Alek removed his shirt. The soap leaped from her grasp, landing on the far side of the room.
Alek grinned, flashing the tiniest bit of tooth and feeling particularly wolfy. “Can’t have my shirt getting wet, can we? Imagine what Travers will say.”
She reached up, hooking a finger around the silver chain around his neck. Momentarily, the sting of silver eased. He knew his skin was red where the chain rested. “I hate seeing the pain this chain causes. Don’t wear this anymore.”
“I barely noticed it,” he said. The sting helped keep him focused.
“Then it’s not working. Your tattoo.” Her fingers brushed the sun emblem inked over his heart. “Why?”
“You’re always with me,” he answered. The pink flush pleased him greater than any material gain or temporary delight of the flesh.
He glanced down at the water.
And he had a lot to take delight in.
