Angelo stretched, letting the hot water ease aching muscles and lull him nearly to sleep. The private bathing chamber, with its massive, claw-footed tub, was one of the many benefits of being a guest here, and he was hardly one to refuse such generosity.
Eyes closed, he smiled a little and leaned his head back. Weeks of coaxing had paid off that afternoon, when Jessica had come out to watch him instruct a dozen of the town's children in sword work. Of course, "watching" had apparently required her whip and two daggers; he'd convinced her to help him demonstrate how to disarm an opponent within five minutes, and in another ten they'd been displaying their skills in earnest, knives against sword.
They'd finally stopped when Jessica accidentally drew blood, proving they were both too tired to continue safely. A few words and a significant glance toward the children had quieted her apologies, leaving him to heal the gash on his arm while she gathered up the layers of clothing they'd managed to shed during their workout. By that time, the afternoon shadows had been stretching long, emphasizing just how long he and Jessica had been trying not to kill one another, and he'd shooed the children back to their homes and evening chores.
Conveniently, that had allowed Jessica a bit more freedom to apologize.
His musings were interrupted by the door opening, and he lazily glanced over in time to see Jessica slip into the room. She had a look in her eyes he didn't quite trust, and a small cut-glass bottle in one hand.
He studied the bottle suspiciously. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing." She knelt beside the tub, kissing his bare shoulder. "How's your arm?"
"Fine, and you know it." Slight turn of his head, and she obligingly shifted her attentions to his lips.
"I still feel bad about what happened," she whispered when they parted.
"You have your ways of making it up to me."
She flushed and ducked back with a giggle that reminded him she was up to something. The next thing he knew, there was a strong scent of roses, coming from the bottle she'd just emptied into his bathwater.
"Oh, you'll pay for that," he warned, splashing her.
"Shh. If anyone hears us they'll tell my mother." The glass bottle was set carefully out of the way, then her slender fingers were stirring through the water, bubbles rising in their wake.
Not surprisingly, the bubbles weren't the only thing rising.
"Jessica, torturing me is not a good apology."
Her lips touched the side of his throat, while her hands spread rose-scented foam across his chest, down his arms, back up to his shoulders. Any further objections he might have had to the fragrance vanished when he hands glided down again, through the thick layer of bubbles, and under the water.
She'd obviously been paying attention during the weeks they'd been together.
"Am I forgiven?" she asked when she was through with him.
Angelo let his eyes roam over her; she had somehow gotten bubbles in her hair, and her damp blouse clung to her invitingly. "If I say no, will you apologize again?"
"If you say yes, I'll make you prove it later."
"In that case, you're absolutely forgiven." He wrapped an arm around her; she let out a squeal of surprise as he deftly pulled her into the water with him. "For cutting me, that is. There's still the small matter of dousing me in rose bubble bath, however."
As he'd expected, her apology was heartfelt and thoroughly acceptable.
Written for 101 Kisses. Theme #31 - Bubbles
