He thought he knew her, understood, and he realized her devotion to those she cared for was far greater than any he’d ever known. She couldn’t shake off what she’d learned of her father because of her realization regarding the price her mother had paid and her worry for those who had yet to become a part of her life. She humbled him with her unselfishness, with her ability to always put others first.

She was struggling to adjust to what she now knew of herself, thought herself different because she wasn’t the result of a fairy tale, but of a nightmare. Yet she couldn’t see that the heart and soul of her remained the same. Because the maggot had not only touched her but her world, and in so doing, he’d coated her with his filth, and it had gone so deep that she couldn’t wash it off. But he knew how to rid her of it.

Shoving back his chair, he stood. “Where do you store your tub?”

Clearly taken aback, she blinked up at him. “I have a bathing room. Why?”

“I’m going to bathe you, and when I’m done, you’ll be so clean your skin will squeak.”

Fancy didn’t know whether to be horrified, wary, or intrigued as Matthew draped his jacket over the back of the chair, removed his neck cloth, unbuttoned three buttons, rolled up his sleeves, made himself at home within her small kitchen area, and began heating water. She decided on intrigued with a hint of wariness. “You can’t be serious.”

Settling his hips against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest, and she fought not to notice how the action made his forearms appear as though they’d been cut from stone. “When I came out of the mines, I was covered in grime, so much so that every crevice and fold was filled with dirt. It was the one thing about working down there that I abhorred. I became very skilled at bathing thoroughly, and when I was done the water was murky.”

“But I’m not literally covered in dirt.”

“No, but you feel as though you are. You’ve confided that your own efforts have failed to yield results. So where’s the harm in letting me give it a try?”

“Through my clothing?”

Uncrossing those lovely arms, he approached her slowly as though she were a skittish mare that might bolt at any unexpected movement or sound. He stopped just shy of his chest brushing over her breasts, and her blasted nipples immediately puckered and strained toward him. He held her gaze with raw honesty. “My mouth has known a good deal of you intimately. You must know I will not take what you are not willing to give.”