He hurried into the tub, though with care,
for he did not wish to send the water splashing. He eased his legs
around her and slipped his one arm around her to rest beneath her
breasts, then after situating himself comfortably, he drew her back
against him.
She rested her head on his chest and placed
her hand on his arm. “I have never been naked in a tub with a man
before this and never thought to be, especially with a stranger.”
His laughter was a soft rumble in his chest, and she enjoyed the
sound of it.
“I am no longer a stranger. I tend you,
touch you, and sleep with you. We have become familiar with each
other in more ways than many husbands and wives do.”
“Aye,” she agreed, “that is the truth. Many
husbands would not do for their wives what you have done for
me.”
“How could I not? You are a gentle soul and
so very beautiful.”
Her eyes rushed open. She had kept them
closed not knowing if she could look upon him after feeling the
length and strength of him behind her. He had pulled her close, and
she knew how very much of a man he was, and to her surprise the
thought thrilled her. But he telling her that she was beautiful
shocked her.
“You think me beautiful?”
“Aye.” He kissed her temple. “I have known
no woman as beautiful as you.”
“You tease me.”
She did not believe him, and he found that
odd. Women enjoyed being told of their beauty, though her beauty
went beyond the common. She defined beauty and that was rare.
“Nay, I tease you not, I mean what I say.
You are beautiful to look upon—all of you.” He gave her an
affectionate squeeze.
She simply did not know how to respond. She
was stunned silent.
He sensed her discomfort and attempted to
make light of it. “Are you not now going to tell me that I am
beautiful?”
She giggled softly; she could not help it.
She knew he but teased her. But then, he did not realize that a
man’s looks meant naught to her. It was what was in his heart that
mattered, and his heart was beautiful.
“I think you the handsomest of men.”
Royce could not believe that she spoke with
such conviction.
She actually sounded as though she thought
him handsome. He could not help but say, “Has the accident left you
with poor sight?”
“I see more clearly than I ever have, and it
is clear to me that you are a handsome and caring man.”
He was about to object when she gently
squeezed his arm. “Please allow me to feel as I do.”
There was a tender ache in her voice that
touched his heart. He leaned his head closer to hers. “I am glad
you think me handsome.”
“And caring, do not forget caring.”
“I care for you.”
His words were a soft whisper one strained
to hear. Brianna heard them, for they drifted over her and settled
in her heart. She did not question them or give them thought, but
simply held them close and made them part of her. This man was like
no other she had ever met, and if she was not careful she could
lose her heart to him.
“You are comfortable?” His arms remained
firm around her.
‘Too comfortable.”
He understood, for he felt
too
comfortable
himself. He had grown much too fond of her in much
too short of a time and yet why did he feel it was so right?
“The water will chill fast. It is best we
wash before it grows too cold. Let me start with your hair.”
“You will wash my hair?”
“I will wash all of you.”
She looked at him with disbelief. “The
heavens surely smiled down on me when they sent you to my rescue.
And when I am well, I will tend you.”
He grinned. “You will wash me then?”
She liked his teasing manner. She had never
imagined being playful with a man, but she felt like a carefree
young woman with him. “I give a good scrubbing; you may think
otherwise afterward.”
“I will take my chances. Now let us get you
finished and back in bed.” He reached over the tub and retrieved a
wooden bowl that he used to scoop up water and pour over her hair.
He then lathered it with soap and scrubbed her head until she
sighed with pleasure.
“Your hair?” she questioned when he had
rinsed her hair clean.
“I will dunk my head after our bath and have
done with it.”
“The water is cooling—we need to hurry.”
He grabbed the soap and it slipped out of
his hand down onto Brianna. She grabbed it and lathered her hands.
He thought she would wash herself and deny him the pleasure, but to
his amazement she began to scrub his arm where it rested across
her.
He took the soap from her, lathered his own
hands and proceeded to scrub her shoulders.
They worked well together, each scrubbing
the other. With his support Brianna could reach his legs and her
own. He did her back and down her arms, then gently scrubbed her
breasts, lingering just a bit longer than he should have but
keeping his touch as respectful as possible.
She shivered, and while the water had
chilled, it was not the temperature that caused the shiver. Her
nipples had turned sensitive when he ran his hand across them
several times. She had not expected to respond, had not expected
her nipples to harden—had not expected to want more.
“Enough! I am getting you out now before you
catch a chill. Can you brace yourself for a moment?”
She nodded, her focus on her throbbing
nipples.
He stood in haste, the water splashing over
the sides, grabbed for a towel, reached down, and scooped her up
with one arm. Bracing her against his wet body, he draped the towel
around her and began to rub her dry.
He saw to both of them as he worked, being
methodical in his strokes and making certain to cover every inch of
her. She warmed and relaxed with every soothing stroke. He snatched
up two more towels before scooping her up into his arms and
carrying her to the bed.
“Hold on to me,” he ordered after resting
her on the bed.
She did and he wrapped her wet hair in the
clean towel before laying her back against the pillows. To her
relief the other towel he quickly wrapped around his waist. She did
not wish to think that her glance purposely drifted where it had no
place going, but then she had done many things of late she had
never expected to do.
She lay still and allowed him to tuck her
safe and warm beneath the blankets. She had not realized until she
was comfortably tucked in that he had not helped her into her night
shift. She thought to mention it, but he wore a stern expression,
and she wondered over the change in him.
Without a word to her he walked over to the
tub, kneeled beside it, and dunked his head in the water. She
panicked when he did not raise his head after several minutes, and
then in a flash he drew his head up and out, water flying out
around him.
He took a great breath of air and released
it with a force almost as if he were releasing a demon within. He
then proceeded to scrub his hair quite vigorously. Another dunk of
his head, this one not as long as the first, and then a forceful
rub with a towel over his wet hair, and he was finished.
He approached the bed, his stern expression
gone, and she felt more relaxed in asking him, “Did that not hurt
your wounds?”
He shook his head. “Nay, they sting but a
moment, and the cleansing is good for them.”
She raised her hands to her head to see to
drying her hair, but he captured both her wrists in his one hand.
Instantly she recalled the way her husband would grab hold of her
like that and then begin to torment her with his free hand.
“Nay, please.” She hated hearing the begging
in her voice.
He instantly released her. “I meant you no
harm. I will see to drying your hair.”
She swallowed hard the lump in her throat,
and it took her a minute to find a strong voice. “I am sorry.”
“There is nothing for you to be sorry about.
I should not have grabbed you like that.”
“Nay, I know you meant me no harm—” She
shook her head, not knowing what to say, or if she should offer an
explanation.
He made it easy for her. He simply reached
up and removed the towel from her head. “Let me see to your
hair.”
She raised her hand to his wrist and took a
gentle hold of it “Why? Why are you so very good to me?”
He looked puzzled, as if he had no answer
for her, and then he softly whispered, “I care for you.”
I care for you.
Those words had haunted Brianna for the last
week. She had not been certain how he meant them. He sounded as
though he actually cared for her, not took care of her, and she had
wondered over it these many days.
She was up and about now and grew stronger
day by day. Her steps were slow and sometimes laborious, the pain
in her lower back refusing to completely subside. In time she was
sure it would, but for now she would pay heed to its annoying
presence and rest when necessary.
Her thoughts, however, continued to drift to
Royce. Try as she might he was a constant presence in her mind, but
then they spent almost every moment of the day together. The only
time they were apart was when he went hunting for food, and he was
never gone long.
They slept comfortably together like lovers
long familiar with each other, and though they were never intimate,
his hands forever touched her and his arms constantly embraced
her.
He had dressed her in her night shift with
the tenderness of a man who cared, and he looked after her every
need like a man who . . .
Loved?
Nonsense, pure nonsense. He did not love
her. He simply cared.
What was love anyway? She had thought
herself desperately in love with her husband, and she had foolishly
been mistaken. She did not wish to repeat the mistake, and while
Royce seemed caring, so had her husband. He had been courteous and
oh so charming.
She smiled. Royce was not charming, he was
direct in his manner, and she believed him a man of his word. Odd
that she should believe him after she had sworn never to believe
another man again.
If she gave this situation serious thought,
she might consider that she felt as she did because Royce had
rescued her from certain death. He saved her life, and therefore
she was grateful to him.
He did save her life and she was grateful,
but another emotion haunted her, and she was uncertain of its
origin. And until she could reason it, she would keep her feelings
to herself.
The cottage door opened and Royce entered,
followed by a flurry of snow.
“More snow?” she asked with the excitement
of a child.
“A fresh coating, no more, I think.” He
hurried out of his fur cloak and to the fireplace, holding his
hands out to warm them “You like the snow?”
“Aye, especially when it is freshly
fallen.”
“Freshly fallen snow covers tracks.” His
remark was left for her to think on.
Brianna needed no time to think—her response
came quick. “When the weather permits, my brother will have men out
looking for me. He probably only recently discovered that I never
arrived at my destination.”
“He will wait for the weather?”
“Would you not?” she asked curiously. “It
would be wise. You said yourself that freshly fallen snow covers
tracks.”
“Aye, it does; the more snow, the heavier
the cover. It would be best to attempt a rescue even with a
snowfall, for if more snow follows, it will make it nearly
impossible to find any trail.”
She asked the question that had been on her
mind and tongue. “Will you return me to my brother’s home if he
cannot find me?”
His decision had already been made. “Aye, I
will.”
She smiled. “Then the snow can keep
falling.”
“You will be stuck here with me.”
“I am not stuck with you. I visit with you
and I enjoy your company.
“I enjoy yours,” he said in turn, adding his
own smile.
His lip was no longer swollen, and the wound
was healing nicely. The swelling around his eye had faded, though a
slight discoloration lingered, but the scar on his face looked as
though it had barely healed. It was red and swollen in spots, and
while most of the wound had crusted, one or two spots refused to
close completely. His face was not a sight many would wish to look
upon, but Brianna had grown accustomed to him, and his distorted
features did not disturb her at all.
She wondered occasionally what he looked
like before his face had suffered such a horrendous assault. His
looks mattered little to her. Her husband had been a handsome man
and she had to admit she had been drawn to his stunning features;
perhaps that was what had blinded her to his true character.
Royce’s face was so badly distorted that she
could barely make out normal features. Because of that she
concentrated on the man within, not the horrendous face that had
brought a scream to her lips when she had first looked upon
him.
“Brianna? Are you all right?” His concerned
voice roused her from her musings.
“Lost in thought.”
“Share the thought with me.”
She rested back against the pillows and did
not think twice about sharing her thoughts, for she trusted Royce
to understand. “I thought of your face compared to my
husband’s.”
He felt no insult, and he did want to know
more about her marriage.
‘Tell me,” he said beside her on the
bed.
“He was a handsome man.”
Royce watched the way she drew the covers up
around her. She looked for protection, not warmth.
“I cannot say that I am a handsome man,” he
said with a grin, hoping to ease the deep frown that creased her
face.
Her bright blue eyes grew wide. “Nay, you
are handsome in ways my husband could never have been. And I was a
foolish young woman thinking myself in love. He used his false
charm to capture my naive heart but never truly loved me.”