This is from Chaos Come Again

She bumped her head into his shoulder, in a surplus of affection, and he winced.

“What has happened?” Dorothea asked.

“A slight strain in my shoulder, dearest. Nothing to worry about,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her hair. “I will just have my bath, shall I?”

But while Abigail was dressing Dorothea’s hair, she heard Blythe say, “You’ve bruised your shoulder, Colonel. You should get my lady to rub some of her liniment into that. Going to be a whopping bruise.”

Dorothea put up a hand to tell Abigail to stay where she was and tiptoed to the dressing room door, so she could see what her husband was trying to hide from her. A livid bruise about the size of a fist coloured his shoulder.

“I shall get my liniment,” she said.

Lion looked over his shoulder. “It is nothing to worry about,” he repeated. He submitted to her ministrations, all the while protesting that he hardly felt it at all. “It looks worse than it is.” Which wasn’t true, for when she asked him to windmill his arm, he was unable to do a full circle.

“You will need to rest it,” she scolded him.

He put his other hand on the nape of her neck and encouraged her ear close to his mouth. “You’ll have to be on top, then, my love.”