Page 7 of The Earl Takes All
He sat on the edge of the mattress and skillfully used the hook to loosen the buttons on one shoe and then the other. Setting the hook aside, he gently tugged off her left shoe. She grimaced with the discomfort, then sighed with relief as her toes were free to wiggle about.
“My God,” he said.
“I know. They’re hideously swollen. I fear my ankles rather look as though they belong on an elephant.”
“You should have said something sooner,” he chastised, slowly easing her other foot out of the shoe.
“Don’t be cross.”
“I’m not cross,” he said, refusing to take his gaze from the trunks that were her ankles. “I’m worried about you, Julia.”
“The swelling is to be expected. I don’t think I’m in any danger of losing the babe.”
He nodded toward the side. “Pass me one of the pillows you’re not using.”
With extreme tenderness, he placed it beneath her feet. “Need to get a bit of blood flowing, I think,” he said.
He placed both hands around her ankle, slid them up beneath her skirt and over her knee until he reached the tie of her stocking. Her breath caught and held as she waited. Having his fingers so near the apex of her womanhood was sweet torture. He slowly loosened the ribbons, then even more slowly rolled the silk down past her toes and set it aside. His hands journeyed up her other leg, and she nearly melted on the spot. It was ridiculous how desperately she wanted his hands on her. When the other stocking was cast aside, he returned his attention to her first leg and began kneading her calf. His hand glided up to the back of her knee, his fingers massaging there for a moment before beginning the journey back toward her ankle. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“It feels lovely.” The skin on his palms and fingers felt coarser, not as smooth as it had been before his journey. She imagined he’d gone a good deal of the time without gloves. If he had worn them, his hands wouldn’t be so tanned now. “I may find myself grateful for the swelling. You’ve never rubbed my feet before.”
He stilled a fraction of a heartbeat before continuing the fluid, soothing motions, offering her an apologetic smile. “What a cad I am.”
She laughed lightly at his teasing. She’d missed it. Missed this. Simply being with him, no expectations, no burdens. “You also never used profanity in my presence.”
“It seems Edward’s bad habits became mine during our travels.”
“You must have seen some amazing sights.”
Moving his hands to her other ankle he nodded. “We did.”
“I wish I could have journeyed with you.”
“You wouldn’t have much liked it when Edward broke an egg into your shoe and insisted you walk about with the muck in there.”
“Are you joshing?”
He lifted his eyes to hers, and for the first time she saw no sadness, and she was filled with hope that perhaps the mourning would not last the remainder of his life. “Prevents blisters.”
“How did he know that?”
He shrugged. “Read it somewhere. He was always reading, trying to ensure our journeys were as comfortable as possible.”
“You had a good time when you were with him.”
“I did. It was the best... until it wasn’t.”
She wanted to give him a bit of cheer during this dark time. “I thought we might name our son after him.”
His gaze went to her belly, then he looked away. “No. We’ll not name the Greyling heir after such a selfish bastard. He’s to be named after his father, as he should be.”
She didn’t know what to say to his harsh words regarding Edward. He’d never shown any anger toward his brother. Not when Edward stumbled into their residence three sheets in the wind. Not when he held out a hand for more money because he’d frittered away his allowance. Not when large men knocked at their door because he had amassed large gambling debts. Albert indulged his brother, seemed to think his irresponsible lifestyle was harmless enough. He’d never had a bad word for Edward. Until now. It was so unlike him.
She could sense him withdrawing into himself. She didn’t want to lose him, not again. As he continued massaging, his hands periodically disappearing beneath her skirt, a little bit of naughtiness took hold of her. “You are my husband. It is perfectly acceptable for you to lift my skirt over my knees.”
“I don’t need the temptation.”
As inappropriate as it was during this time of mourning, she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill. “Are you tempted?”
