Page 93 of The Forsaken

Her breathing gradually evened, and Kerr remained close to her until he was certain she had fallen into a still sleep.

Only then did he get to his feet.

When he’d arrived last evening, finding Andromena had been his only goal; now, he did a sweep for provisions. The cottage held little, but what it did possess had clearly been chosen for necessity rather than comfort.

Kerr surveyed the kitchen, taking in the telling details: a wooden tub positioned alongside the hearth, and next to it, a counter holding an iron kettle and a single porcelain cup. Heading over to the grate, he dropped to his haunches and held his palm near the pile of ash. Unease stirred. Someone had been here. Regretfully, he put a greater sense of urgency into leaving. After he coaxed those same embers to life, Kerr added wood, and set the kettle over the flames. While it heated, Kerr took the buckets outside to fill them at the pond Andromena reverently spoke of.

Only after he returned from the stables, carrying her sack, did he find her, awake—and precisely where he wanted her. As Kerr drank in the sight of her, a fresh wave of hunger assailed him.

She haphazardly clutched the sheet to her chest, but it slid down to reveal the full creamy expanse of her breast. A bashful smile hovered about her mouth, bruised and swollen from his kiss.

“Good morning, Edgar.”

He took a steadying breath in. “Morning, love. Though it’s probably nearer afternoon.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Is it?”

“No. I was teasing.”

“I love when you tease me.” Another one of those enchanting smiles that knocked him upside down danced about her lips.

Something softened in his chest. “I’ll be sure to do it more.”

Her gaze moved from him to the tub, and then back again. “You did this for me?”

He could have handed her the Regent Diamond for that one sleepy, wondering breath. “It is a bath.” Kerr’s gaze locked with hers. “I will fetch you the sun that you so love.”

A tremulous smile brushed her lips. “Oh, Edgar. I don’t want anything from you. I want you.”

Andromena abandoned her coverlet.

His mouth went dry. A fresh jolt of lust hammered through him. Bare and as beautiful as a goddess he had likened her to. She rose in all her regal glory and moved with the same fluid grace. As she stepped into the tub, the hard peaks of her breasts begged his attention—and he gave them their due. His mouth dry, he followed her steps all the way.

After her bath—which Kerr watched with a throbbing cockstand—he dried every drop of water from her glistening skin. He toweled her limbs. When finished, he gathered up the chemise and gown he found in one of the wardrobes and dressed her. Never had he performed the role of lady’s maid. That role had always been beneath him. The women he bedded, he conquered.

Not Andromena. This ebullient siren had seized him. He would give her his lungs if she asked.

For the first time in his grown life, he felt unsteady. Maybe that is why he grabbed her sack too fast, and wrong—he took it upside down. The contents tumbled out, hitting the floor with metallic clings and clattering.

Kerr stared in dumb disbelief at the treasures strewn about. This did not make sense. “How did…?”

He lifted his gaze to Andromena’s to see if she could make sense of it.

A chill went through him.

“Why do you have these?” his voice sounded weird to his own ears.

She mustn’t have heard him, because Kerr was forced to repeat himself. “Andromena?”

Pale as death, Andromena clutched at her throat.

He swiped the Greek honeybee necklace, the inspiration of her sketch that they had bonded over. Him, investigating and her cataloging. “What the hell is this?” When she still didn’t speak, he shook the piece furiously at her—ancient history be damned.

“The honeybee pen—”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” he thundered. Andromena pressed her hands over her face and cried out.

Her sorrow cut square through his heart that beat for her.