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She narrowed her pretty eyes at him. “Would you prefer to remain dirty?” she asked, annoyance lacing each word. “If that’s what you want, you’re strong enough to sleep outside.”

He knew she was right, but his frustration with the whole situation was leaking out beyond his borders, infiltrating the space between them. “Fine.”

“Did you wake up from your nap on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Bed!” He scoffed because that wasn’t a bed, then grunted at her, not wanting to put her and beds in the same thought. He needed to channel Ollie, not himself. “I’m fine,” he said and hated himself for it. For being an ass. She’d saved his damned life!What is wrong with me?

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, echoing his thoughts as she helped him to his feet.

“Nothing,” he bit out.

She ignored him, but so far, she’d been adept at doing that. “Let’s take up the bedding first, then I’ll help you with the sponge bath after. I want to lay the linens out to air them out.” She handed him one of the blankets she pulled from the bed. “Hold this for me?”

He took it and held the wadded-up fabric in front of his groin, the perfect covering to hide behind, which turned out to be a boon because Tarley bent down and gathered up the bedding, her ass—in those trousers—pointed at him, all while making little noises as she did. He suppressed a groan as he grew hard again, an answer to the sight and the sounds she was making. Sex sounds. He couldn’t explain this hard-on away as a one-off. He was fucking attracted to her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Rather than look away, like he should have, he tortured himself by watching her. He noticed the way her shirt stretched as she reached. Noticed the way her hair fell over her shoulder and how after she tossed it back over her shoulder, the end of it seemed to reach for her ass, until it would slip forward again. He watched her lift her arms, collect her hair, and as she did, the fullness of her breasts pushed against the fabric of the tunic. She tied her hair back, her lips parted as she did, before resuming her movement.

“Ollie?”

He blinked, unaware she’d stood and was staring at him. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?” She reached out to feel his forehead.

He jerked back. He didn’t want her to touch him. “Fine.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing a smidge, then nodded and disappeared. It wasn’t a few moments later she reappeared carrying a pot of steaming water, a cloth, and a bar of soap. “Here. I can help you.”

“I don’t want you to help me,” he snapped, then thought better of it. “Or maybe I do.”

Tarley stalled at his rude innuendo. “Who do you think you are? The king of Sevens?” She set the steaming water, the bar of soap, and the cloth down on the bottom canvas sheet of the tent. “Do it yourself.” She turned to go.

Lachlan heaved a sigh. “Tarley, wait.”

She stopped at the entrance to the tent but didn’t look at him, her spine rigid.

“Forgive me. I’m not used to…” But he stopped at the unfinished sentiment. What he’d been about to say was a godsdamned lie. He wasn’t the king of Sevens but he was the prince of Jast, and he’d been reliant on others his whole life. He was acting like an entitled prick. He’d been surrounded by servants who addressed his every need often before he even knew he needed them. He’d never said please or thank you. It had just been owed to him.

His skin heated. Here was a woman who had helped him out of no obligation but her own desire to help because he needed it. And he was alive because of her. She’d saved his life, and what had he done? Thrown a sexual innuendo at her, teased her, acted like a jerk, and treated her with disdain because he’d presumed she was beneath him.

Exactly what she’d said.

Fuck.

“Forgive me?” he repeated, his heart beating wildly with anticipation that he hadn’t made his one lifeline hate him.

She turned and looked at him, her gaze drifting over his features, and it was almost as concrete as a caress. Her thoughts moved across her face. First there was annoyance shaping her mouth, then brows sharp over her eyes, until eventually they softened into acceptance. “Fine. I’ll help you with your back, and you can do the rest yourself.” She offered him a cloth.

He turned, presenting her his back, dropping the blanket, relieved his erection had waned some.

She tugged on the bindings around his ribs. “I won’t be putting these back on. It’s time for you to start moving.”

To keep his mind occupied with thoughts other than being naked in front of her, he looked for something to talk about. “You mentioned your mom and a sister named Brinna. Is that all your family?”