Page 36

Seeing his physical strength with her own eyes, she no longer doubted the truth of those claims.

Flustered, Fiona turned to reach for the pot of soap. Oil of eucalyptus melded with the spicy scent of lavender as she lathered the washing cloth. Intending to start with his back, she began moving behind him. Quick as lightning, his hand shot out, grasping her wrist.

“Nay, Fiona, dinnae hide yerself,” Gavin drawled. “Stay where I can see ye. If yer going to wash me like a wee lad, then I’m going to enjoy the view.”

She forced herself to obey without protest. She was his mistress and needed to do what he commanded. Though in this instance, ’twas hardly a battle of conscience to do as he asked.

As she came closer, Fiona saw the whirl of hair on his chest and the dark line that trailed from his navel downward, disappearing into the water. A twist of excitement ran through her loins. A normal reaction, she decided. He was magnificent. She’d have to be made of stone not to feel something when she gazed upon his masculine beauty.

He leaned forward so she could reach his shoulders, then lifted his head to stare into her eyes. She could clearly see the hungry desire shimmering in the blue depths. Unexpected pleasure flashed through her. Fiona swallowed, feeling the heat rising over her body.

She pressed the cloth to his shoulders and rubbed vigorously, trying to regain her equilibrium as she hurried to finish washing him. She had already decided she was not going to scrub any parts of him that lay beneath the water. He was perfectly capable of doing that on his own.

The room grew quiet, save for the sound of the cloth rubbing his flesh and the occasional splash of water. Gavin reached out and trailed the tip of his finger lightly across her throat and up to her chin. Fiona froze. The cloth slipped from her fingers, fell into the water and floated aimlessly in the tub.

“Are ye finished with me, darlin’?”

She blinked, the sound of his silky voice breaking her trance. Fiona pulled away, swirled two fingers in the soap pot and began washing his hair. Lifting the pail, she poured the warm water over the earl’s head, rinsing away the suds, admiring the clean gleam of the dark tresses. His hair was wet and curling, resting on his shoulders.

“Shall I get my scissors so I can trim your hair?”

He opened one eye and stared lazily up at her. “I learned long ago, ’tis never a wise idea to expose yer throat to a female with sharp instruments.”

Fiona placed the empty bucket on the floor. “Don’t you trust me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, causing a wave of the water to lap over the side and spill onto the floor. Reacting quickly, Fiona kicked his tunic out of the way, so it wouldn’t get wet. Presenting her back to him, she knelt on all fours and mopped the spill with one of the towels.

“Are you staring at me?” she asked, feeling the prickly sensation of being watched.

“I cannae help myself. ’Tis a bonnie view yer treating me to, lass.”

Fiona’s smile bubbled into a giggle. A bath was not sexual in nature. At least none that she’d ever taken. Yet somehow Gavin was able to make mopping a wet floor an erotic experience.

She turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him. He looked at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, examining her figure in a slow, measured way, causing her to look away in embarrassment.

“Join me, lass,” he said in a silky voice.

“There’s no room,” Fiona whispered, scandalized.

“Of course there’s room,” he admonished.

“Where would I sit?”

“On my lap, where else?”

Merciful heavens!A flush of heat shuddered through Fiona’s body at the very idea. Gavin continued staring at her with a mesmerizing gleam in the depths of his blue eyes, causing an odd weakness in her knees.

Then he flashed a grin that was pure boyish mischief.He’s flirting with me.

The realization momentarily robbed her of speech. No one had ever done that before. It was not part of Henry’s nature to be playful with her. He’d been kind, sweet, and even indulgent at times, but never once lighthearted. ’Twas somewhat astonishing to discover that she rather liked it.

Avoiding his gaze, Fiona pushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “The bath is meant for you, my lord, not me.”

“Well, if it’s my bath, then ’tis mine to share, is it not? And I’ve decided to share. With ye.”

Chapter 8

Gavin liked how expansive Fiona’s eyes grew when he asked her to join him in the tub. She wasn’t shocked—well perhaps a wee bit. But she was also curious, intrigued by his suggestion, and that did all sorts of things to his already fired blood.