thought? She hardly knew the man. She had no intention of staying. Where was her good sense?
What would have happened if Bea had not come in when she had? She glanced furtively at the housekeeper while Bea placed a nightdress on the bed. Would Sabina and her new husband be sharing her bed even now?
He was a lusty man; she could see it in the way his eyes roamed over her, in the intensity of his manner. He was probably a man used to getting what he wanted. He had not chosen her for a wife, she was certain of that much at least, but it did not necessarily follow he would not take what he had a right to. Though he seemed compassionate in his own way, experience had taught her men could be kind when they wished to be, until they wished it no more.
His gentle hands and green eyes would distract her from her goal, and scores of women would suffer for her weakness. She must never forget herself with him again.
She had no illusions. She was not exceptional in any way. Their marriage not withstanding, she would be merely a vessel in which he slaked his rough lust, and when he tired of her, he would move on. Nevertheless, when he touched her just now, her heart forgot it had once been brutally betrayed; its reckless spirit yearned for what it could not have.
This man could be dangerous for her, in many ways, if she was not vigilant. It would not do to fall under his enigmatic spell again.
“My lady.” Bea intruded on her thoughts. “We must get you out of those wet things. Here, let me—”
Sabina clutched at the still-damp bodice of her gown when Bea moved to untie her laces. “Thank you, but I will not be needing your services. I can do it.”
Bea put her hands on her wide hips, and stared at her as though she was mad.
“And how do you expect to unfasten all those laces? You shall break an arm, surely, in trying to manage. Now let me do my duty, and you’ll be enjoying a warm bath in just a moment.”
Sabina supposed there was no way out of it. She slowly turned her back and allowed Bea to undo the gown. She would just slip out the document and hide it under the linens when the housekeeper was not looking. It was silly to be so stealthy, she knew; she had a perfect right to possess the contract. Yet, a part of her was reticent to trust anyone with it.
“There’s no need to worry, my lady. ‘Tis nothing you have I haven’t seen before. Besides,” Bea said, working the laces open, “it was not so long ago the Master’s mother, God rest her soul, used to stand in this very room—”
She stopped speaking when the gown fell open and Sabina’s chemisette drooped down her shoulder.
“Dear God,” Bea whispered, and simply stared.
Sabina had forgotten. The bruises covering her back would be at their darkest stage by now.
“It looks worse than it is,” Sabina said hastily. “Truly, I am almost healed, I think.” Then, in a small voice, she looked over her shoulder and asked, “Does it really look so bad?”
Bea hesitated before answering. “Well, you know, I have a salve that works wonders for all manner of bumps and bruises. Let’s just get you out of these clothes, and warm you up in the bath, and we’ll see about it, shall we? You’ll be as good as new in no time at all, mark my words,” Bea said, gently peeling the gown away.
Sabina blinked and tears threatened to overflow. Sympathy had a way of disarming her like nothing else.
“Yes. Thank you,” she whispered.
While Bea clucked over her like a mother hen over her chick, Sabina allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, Sanctuary was her real home, and this was her own chamber. Thus she allowed herself to be lowered into the bath, her hair washed, her skin gently scrubbed.
Afterward, when Bea rubbed in the cooling salve on her back, and sat her in front of the fireplace to dry her hair … as she pulled a hairbrush through it with long, sweeping strokes and hummed a simple tune, Sabina pretended, just for a moment, Bea was her mother,
What would have happened if Bea had not come in when she had? She glanced furtively at the housekeeper while Bea placed a nightdress on the bed. Would Sabina and her new husband be sharing her bed even now?
He was a lusty man; she could see it in the way his eyes roamed over her, in the intensity of his manner. He was probably a man used to getting what he wanted. He had not chosen her for a wife, she was certain of that much at least, but it did not necessarily follow he would not take what he had a right to. Though he seemed compassionate in his own way, experience had taught her men could be kind when they wished to be, until they wished it no more.
His gentle hands and green eyes would distract her from her goal, and scores of women would suffer for her weakness. She must never forget herself with him again.
She had no illusions. She was not exceptional in any way. Their marriage not withstanding, she would be merely a vessel in which he slaked his rough lust, and when he tired of her, he would move on. Nevertheless, when he touched her just now, her heart forgot it had once been brutally betrayed; its reckless spirit yearned for what it could not have.
This man could be dangerous for her, in many ways, if she was not vigilant. It would not do to fall under his enigmatic spell again.
“My lady.” Bea intruded on her thoughts. “We must get you out of those wet things. Here, let me—”
Sabina clutched at the still-damp bodice of her gown when Bea moved to untie her laces. “Thank you, but I will not be needing your services. I can do it.”
Bea put her hands on her wide hips, and stared at her as though she was mad.
“And how do you expect to unfasten all those laces? You shall break an arm, surely, in trying to manage. Now let me do my duty, and you’ll be enjoying a warm bath in just a moment.”
Sabina supposed there was no way out of it. She slowly turned her back and allowed Bea to undo the gown. She would just slip out the document and hide it under the linens when the housekeeper was not looking. It was silly to be so stealthy, she knew; she had a perfect right to possess the contract. Yet, a part of her was reticent to trust anyone with it.
“There’s no need to worry, my lady. ‘Tis nothing you have I haven’t seen before. Besides,” Bea said, working the laces open, “it was not so long ago the Master’s mother, God rest her soul, used to stand in this very room—”
She stopped speaking when the gown fell open and Sabina’s chemisette drooped down her shoulder.
“Dear God,” Bea whispered, and simply stared.
Sabina had forgotten. The bruises covering her back would be at their darkest stage by now.
“It looks worse than it is,” Sabina said hastily. “Truly, I am almost healed, I think.” Then, in a small voice, she looked over her shoulder and asked, “Does it really look so bad?”
Bea hesitated before answering. “Well, you know, I have a salve that works wonders for all manner of bumps and bruises. Let’s just get you out of these clothes, and warm you up in the bath, and we’ll see about it, shall we? You’ll be as good as new in no time at all, mark my words,” Bea said, gently peeling the gown away.
Sabina blinked and tears threatened to overflow. Sympathy had a way of disarming her like nothing else.
“Yes. Thank you,” she whispered.
While Bea clucked over her like a mother hen over her chick, Sabina allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, Sanctuary was her real home, and this was her own chamber. Thus she allowed herself to be lowered into the bath, her hair washed, her skin gently scrubbed.
Afterward, when Bea rubbed in the cooling salve on her back, and sat her in front of the fireplace to dry her hair … as she pulled a hairbrush through it with long, sweeping strokes and hummed a simple tune, Sabina pretended, just for a moment, Bea was her mother,
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