She reaches up to kiss him as soon as she turns around, and he mirrors her caress of his face by brushing the backs of his fingers down her cold pale cheek.

"You're cold, Sansa," he murmurs now. A cold wind is still blowing through the godswood.

"Mmm, warm me," she breathes into his mouth and kisses him again. He draws her to him and holds her in his massive arms but then, to her dismay, he lets her go and pulls away from her.

"Sansa-"

Forgive me, my lord," she says meekly.

He leans his forehead into hers now. "I've been training in the yard, and gone to the stables and the forge and to the armory today, Sansa: I must stink like a rat swimming in a castle out-drain. Let me have a bath first, hm? For your sake," he insists.

She flutters her eyes in embarrassment; he has never spoken of their lying together in such practical terms as this. But she nods and smiles timidly as she peeps up at him through her eyelashes. "If it please you…my lord."

He responds with slow smile of his own. "I was hoping to please you, Sansa."

Sansa feels her cheeks redden now but she smiles wider and ducks her head.

"Go on ahead; have a man build up the fire in the hearth, and…mayhaps, if you could…let your hair out of that braid…" he trails off as he gazes at her; and Sansa self-consciously pulls her braid around to the front of her cloak but nods obediently. When he says nothing else, she steps back from him and finally turns to walk back into the castle. She steps lightly and hums to herself as she makes her way to their chamber and asks a passing serving man to build up the fire.

"I've come from the godswood, and it was so very cold," she tells him unnecessarily as he sets about his task. Once he leaves, she sits at her dressing table and unbraids her hair swiftly. As she is brushing it in slow languid strokes, she overhears voices in the hallway. She walks to the door and opens it far enough to see down towards her old chamber where serving men are carrying a large tub and more of them are carrying buckets of water and one follows with a folded pile of freshly laundered linens.

Closing the door now, Sansa acts quickly and without thinking: she tugs behind her to unlace her gown and pulls it down from her body with underskirts, smallclothes and stockings following. She dons her robe and peeks out the door of the chamber again and sees the men with buckets all leave and the others follow one by one; the last calls "yes, m'lord" before closing the heavy door behind him and disappearing towards the stairs. She opens the door wider and stretches her head out and sees the hall is deserted. Raising the hem of her robe, she pads quickly down the hallway to where her husband is bathing and lets herself in. Quiet is impossible with the squeak of the hinges, so she shuts her door firmly behind her and lowers the bar with a solid thud of wood and iron.

"What is it now?" he calls from behind the screen. "I told you I didn't need assistance: gods be good, I can find my own blasted ass to wash it!"

"Pardons, my lord," she says softly from behind the screen. "Shall I leave you, then?"

She hears a splash of water and then her husband's surprised voice. "Sansa?"

She steps timidly to the side of the screen and looks around at him. He is sitting back with his arms alongside the great big tub full with soapy water and he looks at her with confused astonishment.

"You were kind enough to help me when I was at my bath, my lord…I thought…" she walks around the screen now towards the tub and stands before him. She smiles shyly as she reaches to untie her robe before taking a deep breath and pushing it from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. As she begins to step towards him, the Greatjon's eyes go wider and he speaks plainly:

"Not yet, let me look at you."

Sansa stands before him now and casts her eye down modestly but after a moment she looks up at him again to see that he is taking in her entire body with a look of such sweet yearning that she catches her breath.

"You're a beautiful sight, Sansa," he says tightly and swallows visibly; then he holds out a great big hand to her. "Come now, before you get cold."

Sansa takes his hand and then the other to steady herself as she carefully raises one leg over the side of the bath. "Careful now," he murmurs as she bring the other leg over and lowers herself into the warm water facing him with a knee on either side of his hips so that she is straddling his legs beneath her. She bites her lip and then smiles tentatively when he reaches out both hands to frame her face and leans forward.

"What are you doing, my lady wolf?"

"Sharing your bath," she replies softly, "…and…your company, my lord. I- I have missed you very much."

He brushes her hair back with his wet hand and runs his fingertips down her cheek and under her jaw. "You needed to get well again, Sansa; do you think I could have stayed away for any other reason?"

His voice is a deep and soft murmur and he is leaning closer to her and so she shakes her head once at his question and leans towards him to meet his soft kiss. He breathes her in deeply and deepens the kiss now and Sansa shifts to sit closer to him and to snake her slender arms up to his shoulders and around his neck. Her wet hands slide over his warm and damp skin as she slips one up into his dripping wet hair and the other down his wide back.

"This is what you want?" he asks her gently.

"Mm," she sighs and kisses him again.

She feels his hands now on her own skin, and they slide easily over her waist and around to her back to pull her closer. Her body presses up against his, and she can feel the hardness of his member against the skin inside her leg. He grunts at their contact and reaches a big hand to grasp himself and another to cup her bottom and bring her closer. Sansa bites her lip in anticipation but instead of lowering her onto his manhood he rubs the head back and forth along her opening, slowly but firmly and so pleasingly that her head spins and she needs grasp the sides of the tub to keep from slipping away from him.

"Oh," she breathes, and shakily moves her hands back to his shoulders to cling to him as she tilts her own hips back and forth in the same slow manner. Her insides are becoming as wet and warm as the soapy water surrounding them in the tub and she feels her blood rising from her toes and up through her body so that she is flushed to her hairline. Her breath is coming is shallow pants and her eyelids are growing heavy.

"Look at me, Sansa," he whispers huskily, and she does. She sees his own eyelids are heavy and his eyes are soft and dark and staring into hers. "Ready?"

Sansa nods quickly. "Yes, oh yes…oh," she gasps as he stops rubbing and slowly begins to ease himself into her. Her hands tighten on his shoulders and her fingers dig into his flesh. She feels herself open to him as she sinks onto his long and hard length and he follows through with a single, strong and steady thrust that fills her so completely that she can scarcely think to breathe.

"Gods. Be. Good," he pants out the last word as he clutches her hips to hold her down onto him and his eyes widen and blink.

Sansa does not hesitate now; she rocks her hips towards him and back, towards him and back as she plants soft and languid kisses on his face and neck. Her husband lets his strong hands roam her body as she moves, first squeezing her bottom gently and then following the dip in her waist and up her ribs to her breasts. He cups them and lifts them and rubs his thumbs over her nipples to feel their firm points and this makes her body jerk with tension and her insides seem to tighten around him. She takes a deeper gasp of breath to feel him do it again and he grunts in response when she tightens herself every time she rocks her hips forward. It feels so good now to be in his arms in the warm water and to have him inside her that she raises and lowers herself now as she sways her body. The water in the tub starts to swirl and slosh back and forth and lap against the sides of tub in time to the rhythm of their movements. Sansa reaches her hands from her husband's shoulders back round his neck, and then raises herself higher on his hard member to move up and down the whole length of his hardened shaft. When she lets a gust of warm breath blow across his neck and keens softly, the Greatjon leans forward and grasps her hips to move her faster.

"Now, now," he growls tightly, "it's been so long, my Sansa-"

She throws her head back suddenly and cries out: high and gasping and almost desperate in her release. She writhes and shudders as her coppery hair streams out behind her in the water and the liquid splashes and spills over the sides of the tub. Her husband buries his face in her throat and over her breasts and lets out a deep and drawn-out grunt of completion and she feels the sudden pulsing throb inside her of his spurting seed. As her breath heaves out of her from her exertion, the Greatjon pulls her forward to him and they lean against each other as their panting slows and quiets and their hearts stop thudding beneath their skin.

Before he can say anything, Sansa takes her husband's face in her hands and kisses him tenderly.

"That…that was so lovely and special," she tells him feelingly, though she immediately feels foolish at her choice of words.

He smiles contentedly at her and almost laughs. "Yes…yes, it was special, Sansa." He leans forward to give her a full but quick kiss. "Are you cold?" he asks now. "Good," he says when she shakes her head no; "sit back then," he tells her and slips down to submerge himself in the water. He gives himself a quick and hard scrub all over with a sea sponge and a bar of hard soap. Sansa reaches for a soft linen cloth and washes herself daintily and discreetly beneath the water and wrings out her long hair before twisting it back into a knot. Finally her husband reaches for a pitcher of water and pours it slowly out over his head. He shakes the water out of his hair and beard like a dog and Sansa squeals and laughs when a shower of tiny droplets flies onto her.

"Come here," he motions her towards him again, and reaches for a second pitcher of fresh and pours some of it out slowly behind her neck before taking her upper arm and having her stand with him. He tilts the pitcher again, slowly pouring out water over her breasts and belly, and then around over her back and bottom. His hands gently and slowly follow the water down her body and he admires her with his eyes. Sansa is overcome at his attention and ducks her head modestly now. He brings his face close to her ear.

"Shy now, are you?" he breathes teasingly. "You were as bold as a hungry wolf not moments ago…"

Sansa blushes and giggles but looks up at him slyly. "Gentle now, are you? You were handling me like a wild steed not moments ago." But when she sees a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, she hops up to kiss him sweetly. "…and I liked it," she assures him gently, and is pleased to see him smile down at her.

Suddenly there is a rattling at the door of the chamber:

"M'lord? M'lord? The door is barred," a servant calls through the boards.

"I bloody know it's barred," he shouts back: "It was done from the inside, wasn't it? Just wait out there and we'll unbar it when we're done it here."

"Uh…we…m'lord?"

"You heard me! I said wait, so wait!"

"Aye, m'lord," the man answers but there is a muttering of voices in the hallway.

"Idiots," the Greatjon grumbles, "best we finish up in here, then." He steps out over the edge of the tub and then turns to lift Sansa out and set her down easily on her feet. They both take towels and while her husband roughly rubs himself dry, Sansa pats herself evenly and carefully, and he stands watching her with amused appreciation. They wrap themselves in their robes and he puts a hand on her shoulder and says: "Ready to face them, then?"

Sansa bites her lip hesitantly but nods to him so he takes her hand in his and leads them towards the doors and lifts the bar with one hand. He pushes the door open and the hallway is filled with a group of men slouching against walls and waiting. When he emerges, they all stand tall and stare, immobile.

"Well don't just stand there all big-eyed, you louts! We're man and wife, aren't we? Show my lady some respect and cast your eyes down! Look at your blasted feet: it might keep you from tripping over them!" He berates them loudly and angrily but Sansa suspects it is for her benefit, to scare them from embarrassing her. "Now get to work in there; pack up my things to bring back to our chamber…but not now. Wait until we've left for the hall."

"I fear that I have given more reason to talk, my lord," Sansa apologizes when they reach their own chamber.

"If we didn't give them reason, Sansa, they'd find one. Better their lord and his lady are happy together than not, hm? For then they would truly talk."

Sansa feels herself smile dutifully, as she used to do; but she is overwhelmed by a terrible feeling of guilt and she wonders if she will ever be able to do enough to make him happy now: enough that the gods should forgive her and keep him from learning the terrible truth.

….