Page 34 of An Ill-Made Match

The next morning, Eden woke as she heard someone fumbling with the door latch. She hurriedly rolled away from Roland’s body and made haste to fling the door open to the maidservant who was carrying two pitchers of hot water.

“Your pardon, miss,” said the girl, who was craning her neck to look over Eden’s shoulder into the room behind her. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Just to slip in like, but your door was locked.” She fixed a vaguely accusing look at Eden.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Eden briskly. She found herself stepping directly into the wretched girl’s line of vision, obscuring her view of Roland’s sleeping form. “Let me have the water and I’ll spare you the task.”

The maid shot her a resentful look as she passed the jugs over. Eden shouldered the door shut in her face and carried them over to the washstand. Why anyone would want to stare at Roland Vawdrey was beyond her, she told herself sternly. Especially when he was not dressed and fast asleep! She poured one jug of hot water into the basin and only then permitted herself to glance over her shoulder at her sleeping husband. He lay on his side, the blankets covering him from the waist down. That still left his impressively muscled chest and arms on display. Eden’s eyes roamed over him distractedly. His chest was covered in a fine smattering of dark hair and she remembered how it had felt against her own skin the night before, her face growing warm. Then too, there had been his warm, hard body. Hurriedly she turned away, biting her lip. He had been a horrid, rampaging beast, she told herself sternly. But, she thought plunging her hands into the warm water, he had also shown himself quite caring and concerned for her well-being. She grabbed for the soap flakes that had been set out for her use and rubbed them between her fingers. He could easily have slouched back down to the tent he shared with his friends after having his way, she thought. And quaffed a few tankards of ale. He had scarcely drunk anything at the feast, save what sips he’d had from her own cup. She washed her face and shook the droplets away, before pressing a cloth to her damp skin. But she would have preferred it, if he had left her to sleep soundly by herself, her inner voice persisted. Liar, Eden surprised herself by whispering soundlessly. She would have felt wretched indeed, if he’d slunk away and left her. There had been something oddly comforting about his solid presence next to hers in the darkness, his hand at her hip.

Not that she’d enjoyed having a bedfellow precisely, she thought. Far from it! But still, it could have been a lot worse. If he’d been a crude, drunken sot, for instance. Her hand froze in the act of replacing the cloth on the stand. Was that why he had not over-imbibed? The thought of Roland Vawdrey being a considerate bridegroom was such a strange one, that she had to flick a quick glance over her shoulder to check he still slept on. Her stomach fluttered strangely as she regarded him. In all good conscience, he had been solicitous of her for a good deal of yesterday, she thought slowly. But marital relations gave no quarter when it came to dignity. Her cheeks burned as her mind dwelt on the things Roland Vawdrey had done to her the previous night. She had never dreamt the marriage bed would be so… words failed her. Swiftly, she drew down her shift and rubbed the wet, soapy cloth over her neck, bosom and shoulders. To her surprise, as she rinsed and patted herself dry, she noticed reflected in the mirrored glass, a red rash spread right across her décolletage. It went right across the tops of her breasts and down the valley between them, marring her pale skin. What was that? Surely Roland’s tongue could not have wrought such an effect, she puzzled. It had not been raspy like a cat’s! Hearing him stir in bed behind her, she hurriedly pulled the neckline of her shift up and rinsed out the cloth. She wanted to wash below her waist too and wondered if she might be permitted a bath. She still felt stiff and a little sore this morning. She turned back to the bed reluctantly, sure that he would now be awake.

Sure enough, Roland’s eyes were open and focused on her blearily. “Come back to bed,” he grouched. “It’s too damn early.”

“I’m an early riser,” Eden said, clearing her throat. “Besides, I’d like a bath.” To her annoyance, she blushed hotly. Roland eyed her a moment in silence. Then to her surprise, he rolled out of the bed entirely naked. Eden hastily spun around. He made no comment at her prudishness, but instead pulled on his braies and walked barefoot across the room before disappearing out of the doorway. Eden bit her lip. Why did she feel vexed that whatever servant he happened across would see her husband’s half-naked body? Shaking her head to dispel her strange thoughts, she seized Roland’s comb and started on the snarls and tangles in her hair. Once that was dealt with, she stole one of the blankets from the bed to wrap around her shoulders like a stole. The sun was already shining in a clear blue sky, but there was a chill to the morning air, and her thin shift did little to ward it off. Besides, she felt highly immodest clad in such a transparent garment in front of Roland.

He was back in a few moments, shutting the door behind him. “The bath will be along presently,” he said, then something seemed to catch his eye.

Eden looked down, following the direction of his gaze. The blanket had slipped slightly but was not indecently low.

“Come here, Eden,” he said. When she looked up, he crooked a finger at her.

A quizzical look on her face, she crossed the floor to close the gap between them and he gently drew the blanket aside. Eden’s eyes shot to his, but he was looking down ruefully at her cleavage.

“How far down does that extend?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“The redness?”

“Oh, that. Just,” she gestured to the top of her ribs. “To about here.”

“I shall have to have a care of you in future,” he murmured. At Eden’s quizzical look, he took her hand and placed it against the bristle on his jaw and rubbed it.

“Ohhh,” she exclaimed, as enlightenment dawned. The rash had been caused by his stubble. Her face heated to think of him kissing her in all those tender places.

He cleared his throat and released her hand. “I’ll shave,” he said shortly.

“Let me just empty the basin,” said Eden practically. Her fingers were still tingling from where she’d touched his face. She wanted something practical to do to shake off this strange feeling. “There’s fresh water for you.”

By the time Roland was shaving, the servants had arrived with the tub and several pails of steaming hot water. They set it in front of the fireplace and emptied the buckets into it until it was half full.

“Thank you,” said Eden, reaching into the water to feel it nice and warm. They duly filed out and Eden waited patiently as Roland dragged the razor down his soaped face.

Becoming aware of her still figure, he turned with a frown. “What are you waiting for? The water will get cold. Hop in.”

Eden’s jaw dropped. Surely he jested? “I thought… That is, are you not almost ready to go below stairs?”

Roland looked down speakingly at his undressed body. He still wore only his braies and an undershirt. “No,” he said firmly, turning his back to her. “Get in the tub, Eden.”

She spluttered, but realizing he was ignoring her, felt she had no choice. He was right, the water would quickly become lukewarm. She hovered a moment in frozen indecision. She would have liked to climb in with her shift still on. She could easily have washed in it, but for the fact she did not have a clean one to put on for the day ahead. This meant she could hardly get it soaking wet. Biting her lip, she drew it quickly over her head and stepped into the tub, sinking down into the water. It only came up as far as her waist, so she drew her knees up for decency’s sake, obscuring the view of her top half.

“Do you have soap?” Roland asked lazily, as he lowered his straight razor.

Eden gazed around wildly, before closing her eyes briefly in vexation. “No,” she said tensely.

“What about a cloth?”

Eden tutted. In her anxiety about her nakedness she had not thought about the bathing necessities. “Neither,” she admitted, watching the back of Roland’s head. Seemingly in no great hurry, he wiped the suds from his face, before collecting a clean cloth and some soap leaves from the side.

Eden drew her knees up until they pressed against her breasts, as he approached, holding out the items for her to take. “Thank you,” she said in a stifled voice, and he nodded before returning to his own ablutions. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Roland whipped his shirt over his head and began running a wash-cloth over his body. With a gulp, Eden returned to the business of her own bath. Silence fell over the room, except for the gentle lap of the water against the side of the tub and random splashes of water as they washed.