The fire crackled softly as she sat at the table in nothing but a bathrobe. Her hair was still slightly wet, even though the maids had spent a generous amount of time drying it as best as they could. They had been worried she would catch a cold if they didn't dry it well enough.
Rose wasn't worried about that; the fireplace was burning, and the windows were shut. She felt warm and cozy. She was more worried about her sore muscles than catching a cold.
She had been washed in very warm water—one might even say it was hot—which was fitting for the weather. After she had been cleaned, the maids spent a significant amount of time applying the sweetest-smelling oils to her skin.
Compared to the torture her body had gone through before noon, Rose needed all the pampering she could get. Unfortunately, the reason for her torture was sitting across from her with a smile on his face. He scratched at his stubble as he made to dig into breakfast.
