He forced a smile although her courage made him want to weep. In his heart, he howled for Filey’s blood. With the scissors he’d brought from the kitchen, he cut her skirt away. Then he removed the tattered drawers and corset and shift.
How it pained him to hurt her, but he couldn’t help it. When she was naked, he let down her tangled hair and combed it with his hands so it fell loosely around her shoulders. Through the silky black tresses, her white skin shone like a pearl, where the bruises and abrasions didn’t disfigure her.
He drew a rug over her then left briefly to collect a bowl of warm water from the kitchen. “I’ll help you sit up,” he said when he came back.
When she was upright, he wet a cloth and very, very carefully bathed her. Her body was slim and graceful in the late afternoon light. But as he traced each perfect curve, stroked each hollow, he didn’t think about sex. Instead, a vast tenderness filled him.
With the gentleness he’d used throughout, he dried her. He laid aside the damp towel and removed the lid of a small jar. “Arnica, calendula, witch hazel help bruises to heal.” As he scooped a handful of ointment, a fresh smell mingled pleasantly with the jasmine. “There are advantages to having a lover who spent his youth poring over herbals.”
“Instead of touring the fleshpots?” she asked dryly, although she tensed with silent discomfort when he smoothed the mixture on the darkening marks around her wrists.
Filey would pay tenfold for every drop of Grace’s pain. Matthew swore vengeance against his enemies even while he kept his touch light.
“Ouch.” She grimaced when he began on the swollen, purple mess of her left cheek.
She’d been so sweetly stoic through what he knew was an agonizing process. He covered the last of her bruises with ointment and turned away, wiping his hands on a linen towel. “Rest now, Grace.”
“Where are you going??
?? Her eyes were bright with fear.
He dredged up a smile that he prayed reassured. “Only to the kitchen. I’m brewing something to help you sleep.”
She gave a visible shudder. “I’ll never sleep again.” Her hands shook as she tugged the rug up to hide her body.
“You’ll get over this.” Briefly, he touched her shoulder, feeling the tremors that racked her. “I won’t be long.”
In the kitchen, Matthew quickly made a tea of valerian, willow bark, and meadowsweet. It would dull her aches although she’d feel buffeted and sore for several days. She’d survive this ordeal and emerge whole and shining. He just wished to hell he could be there to see it.
He brought the laden tray through. “Do you feel any better?”
She looked up from her supine position and managed a smile. Or as much of a smile as her ruined face allowed. “Actually, I do.”
He deliberately concentrated on practicalities. “I’ve got bread and cheese.”
“I’m not hungry.” Weariness shadowed her expression. Emotionally she reached her limits. As she raised herself awkwardly on the cushions, he handed her the steaming cup. She clearly felt the full effect of Filey’s beating. Until now, shock had kept the worst of the pain at bay. She sipped and he couldn’t help but laugh at her moue of distaste. “It’s dreadful.”
“You can’t take opium. This was the next best thing.”
Wondering amazement filled her eyes. Astonishing how expressive even her bruised face was. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you. Now drink up. Then try and eat something.”
He waited for another argument. But she must have felt even worse than he thought because she finished the tea and food, then lay back in exhaustion.
“My head hurts,” she mumbled into the cushion.
He was sure it did, even though the tea already had a narcotic effect. She hardly made a murmur as he wrapped the blanket around her, scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs to bed.
After sharing this room for three days, he had no trouble laying his hands on her night rail. Not that she’d worn it much recently. He carefully dressed her, then pulled back the sheets.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered even as her eyelids fluttered. She was barely conscious.
“Never,” he said, although the word was a betrayal.
His false promise seemed to satisfy her because she relaxed against the pillows. Almost immediately, he heard her breathing take on the slow rhythm of sleep. He covered her with the blankets although the room wasn’t cold.
He tugged off his boots and lay down beside her. She should sleep for hours, but he didn’t want her to awake alone and frightened.