Her Lord's Claim (The Forbidden Saga #4) - Maggie Ryan Page 0,49

though you might be capable of doing many things, little one, your papa requires them to be done for you,” she said as she began to run the cloth over Lucy’s face. Lucy shuddered but remained still and accepted the words. She couldn’t seem to stop blushing as she was most thoroughly washed, far more than she had experienced at the hands of Molly, or even Mrs. Bremmer, when they had bathed her. She was instructed to turn around after being helped to kneel in the tub, her back to the room as her bottom was scrubbed quite hard. She failed to stifle a gasp as Eleanor’s hand moved to wash between her legs. She shut her eyes tightly, her fingers clenched around the edges of the tub as she tried to ignore the sensation.

“You may sit down,” Eleanor said with a final swipe of the cloth over her buttocks.

Once Lucy had gratefully sunk deeper into the water, she closed her eyes as Eleanor dumped several cupfuls of water over her head. She had to admit that while being bathed had been something she knew she’d never grow accustomed to, having her hair washed by another was something else altogether.

“That feels wonderful,” she confessed.

Eleanor laughed softly as her fingers massaged Lucy’s scalp. “It almost makes allowing another to bathe you worthwhile, doesn’t it?” Eleanor said, but spared Lucy the embarrassment of answering by adding, “I’m enjoying it as well. Your hair is truly lovely, Lucille. The color reminds me of the honeycomb my gardener pulls out of the hives he keeps.”

“Thank you, Ele… ma’am,” Lucy said.

After rinsing and repeating the entire process, Lucy breathed deeply as something else was poured over her head followed by Eleanor’s fingers working to finger comb the long, wet tresses.

“Hmmm, that smells so pretty,” Lucy said.

“Doesn’t it?” Eleanor agreed. “It’s called Macassar Oil, made from a combination of oils from coconuts, palms, and Ylang-Ylang flowers from India. It helps remove the tangles that can be caught in the comb’s teeth and tug on a little one’s scalp. I’m glad you like it as I’ve tucked some into the trunk your papa asked me to fill with other items you’ll need to keep you clean.”

Lucy smiled, inhaling deeply at the scent. “Thank you, Miss Summers, that was kind of you.” She giggled and said, “Though I shall have enough to last until I’m old and gray if you’ve filled an entire trunk.”

Eleanor laughed again as she wiped a dry cloth over Lucy’s face to remove the last traces of the shampoo and conditioner. “It takes far more than shampoo, soap and hair oil to keep a little one clean as I understand you were made aware of this morning when Mrs. Bremmer gave you an enema. Your papa will find several bags, tubing and a variety of nozzles to choose from when you need another.”

As much as Lucy wanted to slide down into the water and disappear, she wasn’t allowed to hide. Eleanor helped her from the tub and then instructed her to sit on a small stool. Thinking she was to have her hair combed out to dry, Lucy obeyed and then gasped when Eleanor reached over and spread her knees wide apart. Lucy immediately attempted to close her legs, but Eleanor was even quicker.

“No, little one, you will keep your legs open,” she instructed, and pressed her hands harder, forcing an even wider spread. Lucy whimpered, but Eleanor shook her head, not relenting in the slightest. “It would be a terrible thing to go to your marriage bed with a well-thrashed bottom, Lucille, but don’t think for a moment that I’ll not pull you up and redden your rear.”

Lucy whimpered again but instantly understood the threat. She watched as Eleanor removed the towel that had been covering a tray of items. She saw a mug of what looked like bits of soap, an ivory handled brush topped with tightly packed short bristles and a folded razor. Her eyes grew huge at the sight. She had often watched her father shave and had been both frightened and fascinated as he used the razor. He had warned her never to touch it, as it would cut her with its sharp blade. Her throat tightened as she watched Eleanor use the brush to quickly whip up a thick lather in the mug.

“What… what are you going to do?” Lucy whispered, though she had an uneasy idea from her position on the stool as well as the memory