Freedom to Love by Susanna Fraser

Author:Susanna Fraser
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It wasn’t the first time Henry had gone weeks without a bath, but he still felt better pleased with himself and all the world after ten minutes of scrubbing with harsh homemade soap in a tin tub before the fire. And when everyone had taken it in turns to bathe, and he and Cutler had carried the tub outside to empty for the last time, he returned to the cabin to find Jeannette and Mrs. Cutler making up a pallet of blankets and pillows before the fire.

“A pair of newlyweds shouldn’t have to share quarters with their servant, not when we have room to spare,” Mrs. Cutler said with a broad wink.

Henry felt his blood stir. They weren’t married and could never be, but they could have another night like that first one after Natchez—weeks of such nights. “Thank you, madame,” he said with his best courtly bow.

Jeannette kept her face blank, but Henry knew her well enough by now to realize she was longing to roll her eyes at them both.

He bid them good-night and sought out the little upstairs room he’d been assigned to share with Thérèse. It lacked a fireplace and so was cold, but a nest of patchwork quilts covered the bed where Thérèse sat in a white nightdress he hadn’t seen before, combing out her long, dark hair by the light of a single candle in the windowsill. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, though the words seemed inadequate.

She smiled, then ducked her head. “We’re alone.”

“At last.” He sat beside her and held out his hand for the comb. “May I?”

“If you’re gentle.”

“Always.” He began working the comb through her hair. He’d never done this for a woman, so he went slowly and carefully. He knew he was doing something right when she sighed with pleasure and leaned back against him.

“The Cutlers seem like good people,” she said.

He hadn’t expected such a mundane comment, not when he was already more than half-hard and could sense her desire in the very way she breathed, but if she wanted to talk, he could do that. They had all night. They had weeks of nights to come.

“I like them,” he said. “Even Jeannette does.”

Thérèse giggled. “And she doesn’t like many people?”

“No—but she has reason to be slow to trust.”

“Mmm. She has good judgment for her age, I think. Though—I was surprised she volunteered to help heat the water. When I mentioned it to her, she just smiled and said, ‘I got to bathe, too, didn’t I?’”

Henry chuckled. “She knows how to get what she wants.”

“She also said she was glad to sleep alone for a change—she’d had enough of being crowded together in inns.”

“I’m...glad she feels that way, since that means I can be alone with you.” He set the comb aside and snaked his arms around her waist, drawing her against him.

“It’s been a long time since that first night,” Thérèse said softly.

“Too long.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “Do you—you do still want this?”

“I do.

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