Page 24

Eve choked out a laugh. Her cheeks turned to flame. Adam’s words had painted a vivid picture in her mind, and it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant image. Unsure what to do or say in reply, she turned away from the bold knave and busied herself rounding up the linens.

“So tell me,” Adam said, setting down the cauldron and unwrapping the linen from his hands, “how does an Irish noblewoman know so much about curin’ ills?”

She wasn’t about to tell him she was a nun with access to an extensive herb garden and medical texts. So she shrugged. “How does an outlaw know so much about sword fightin’?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Point to Lady Aillenn,” he acknowledged.

One by one, Eve picked up the vials on the table to sniff at their contents. It seemed cruel to make Adam bathe in water scented by flowers. So she chose one with a warm and spicy scent.

As she poured the oil into the steaming water, Adam let out an audible yawn that was definitely forced.

“I fear my eyes grow weary,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his boots. “Wake me when ye’re done, aye?”

She saw through his ruse. He was trying to be chivalrous. Standing guard over her while assuring her he’d keep his eyes closed. It was an honorable gesture.

Why then did she feel a twinge of disappointment?

Why did she half hope he’d steal a glance at her through the velvet curtains?

What was wrong with her?

After all, he’d said it himself. They needed to keep their wits about them.

True to his word, he climbed atop the coverlet, stretched out on the bed, and closed his eyes. One hand reached up to loosen the tie around the curtain, and the velvet folds fell to obscure his view.

With a shuddering sigh, Eve proceeded with her bath.

She pulled off her shoes and hose. She removed her gown, draping it carefully over a chair.

In the convent, she was expected to bathe in her leine for decency’s sake.

Here, she wasn’t required to be so modest. Still, she took one precautionary glance toward the bed to be sure he wasn’t sneaking a peek.

From behind the curtain, she could hear the soft sawing of his breath. He must be deep in slumber.

In one hasty movement, she slipped out of her leine and sank into the tub.

Then she let out a long sigh.

The water was heavenly. Hot. Fragrant. Soothing.

She’d have to be brief, of course. Despite her threats, it would be unfair to leave Adam with a chilled bath.

But for the moment, she rested her head against the padded wooden edge of the tub and closed her eyes, relishing the warm waves that eased her body and calmed her thoughts.

Feigning sleep was nothing new for Adam. He’d done it all the time as a lad when he’d returned late to Rivenloch after a midnight excursion. Later he’d learned it was a good way to either avoid difficult conversations or to listen in on secret conversations.

Now, however, he was having a hard time keeping his breathing slow and steady.

Though it would be easy enough to spy on her from the shadows of the bed, he’d vowed he would not. And he was a man of honor.

But bloody hell. Just the sweet smell of the bath oil, knowing it would cling to her skin and scent her all evening, made his nostrils flare. The sound of her entering the bath—her soft sigh, the light plash of the water as she moved the wet linen over her body…

His mind created a vision so intoxicating it made his breath quicken. His heart pounded. His blood surged. He didn’t even want to think about what was happening between his thighs.

Eventually he heard her rise out of the tub. Heard the sluice of the water over her glistening body. He envisioned drops rolling down her smooth shoulders and over her creamy breasts. Trickling toward the rosy tips of her chilled nipples.

His eyes sprung open, staring unseeing at the bed’s canopy.

Lord, his loins ached.

And he wondered how he was ever going to cool his blood enough to emerge safely from this velvet refuge.

He didn’t have long to wonder.

In spite of her promises, she’d taken a notably brief bath, briefer even than his sister Feiyan, who hated wasting time she could be sparring by soaking in a tub.

That meant he had to stop imagining Aillenn naked. Soon.

The feat was nigh impossible when she neared the bed and he could smell the sweet spice of her damp body.

“Adam,” she called softly.

He froze, feigning sleep.

“Adam,” she repeated.

He remained still.

Finally she grasped his shoulder in her bath-warmed hand and gave it a shake. “Adam.”

He pretended to rouse, looking at her through the narrow slits of his eyes, and murmured, “Is it my turn?”

“Aye.”

She was draped in a dark cloak. But underneath she wore only her leine. A few damp tendrils of her hair clung to her neck, and a stray droplet of water trickled across her collar bone to disappear between her breasts.

He gulped.

It was a shame the water hadn’t grown cold after all. Perhaps then it would cool his hot blood.

He sat up, raking his hands back through his hair.

“How is the bed?” she asked. “Soft?”

“Aye,” he said, pulling the curtain back.

She sat down beside him, looking fresh. Smelling divine. And wreaking havoc.

He fought the overpowering desire to tip her back onto the pallet and bury his face in her fragrant neck.

Instead he gave her a stern frown. “Ye won’t peek, will ye?”

She raised her brows. “Did ye?”

“O’ course not.” He snorted, indignant. “I’m a man of honor.”

Then he got up, shooed her inside the canopy, and made a point of closing the curtains securely.

“Wait,” she said. After a moment, she handed her cloak to him through the curtains.

Dear God, she was wearing just her leine now, wasn’t she? Her thin, flimsy, sheer leine.

With a shuddering sigh, he plodded toward the dais, draping her cloak over the chair, next to her gown. He shrugged out of his clothes and sank into the water. It was—against his wiser hopes—deliciously hot.

Only later did he realize the wicked lass had never actually promised she wouldn’t peek.

Eve was absolutely going to spy on Adam. It was rare she had an opportunity to glimpse a naked man.

As a nun, she’d stumbled a few times across elderly priests taking advantage of the convent tub. They’d looked plump, pale, and lumpy, like uncooked apple coffyns.

And sometimes the beardless lads of the village swam naked in the nearby loch.

But she’d seen few grown men. So she was naturally curious.

Would God have approved?

Certainly.

After all, hadn’t man been made in His image? And given that this man’s name was Adam…at least, she thought his name was Adam…what could be more fitting?

Standing up carefully on the pallet, she stepped toward the split in the curtain. Taking a hem in each hand, she opened the gap the tiniest bit, just enough to peer through the crack.

He must have been in a hurry. He’d already shed his clothing. The unexpected sight of his naked body made her bite her lip to stifle a gasp.

If this was what God’s Adam looked like, it was no wonder Eve had been tempted into sin.

His body was perfectly proportioned, exactly like the drawings she’d once glimpsed of the statues in Rome.

His shoulders were wide, with arms that were well-muscled, but not bulky.

His legs were sturdy and covered with a light dusting of hair.

His buttocks were firm and smooth. And when he turned to enter the bath, she bit harder into her lip, for none of the priests or young lads or drawings of Roman statues had exhibited an appendage in such a state.

She gulped.

Of course, she wasn’t naive. She’d seen enough animals to know that the members of males swelled to a larger size when they were preparing to mate.

Why it hadn’t occurred to her that it would be much the same with humans, she didn’t know. But even so, it made no sense, because Adam wasn’t preparing…

He sank into the water before she could steal another glance.

She would have closed the curtains then, but he was facing her. The movement would have drawn his attention. So she clamped her lips together and continued to watch.

He laid his head back against the edge of the tub. His face immediately dissolved into pleasure as he sank lower into the water until just his face was showing between the knobs of his knees. He sank lower still, letting the waves close over his head for an instant.

When he emerged, he slicked back his drenched hair and used a cloth to wash his face and neck. His movements were brusque as he scrubbed his shoulders, arms, and chest. Eve knew if she were performing the task, she’d be far gentler.

The idea made her cheeks grow warm. She closed her eyes, censoring her view, but not her errant thoughts as she listened to every gurgle of water and grazing of wet linen upon his flesh.

When she dared to peek again, he was finished washing. Now he rested his neck and arms upon the rim of the tub and closed his eyes, letting the soothing water lull him into tranquility.

In a shadowy, wayward part of her mind, she wished she could join him. She imagined being snuggled against him, cradled in the crook of his arm. Leaning against his powerful shoulder. Resting her cheek on his chest. Tracing the muscles below the level of the water with curious fingers.

An erotic longing began inside her, filling her nether parts with a kind of hunger.

The place between her thighs tingled as if lightning hovered in the air.

With her every breath, the friction of linen against her striving nipples filled her with a keen need.

Her eyelids grew heavy until she watched him through a haze of yearning.

“I know ye’re peekin’,” he suddenly intoned.

Startled, she lurched, losing her precarious balance on the bed.

She made a grab for the curtain, but it only opened wider.

Losing her footing completely, she clung to the fabric with a death grip to keep from falling.

But her weight was too much for the frail velvet, and the curtain began to rip with agonizing slowness.

In the time it took her to gasp in a mortified breath, he’d leaped from the tub to come to her rescue.

What exactly happened, she wasn’t sure. There was a flash of flesh and then a tangle of slippery limbs and shredded velvet, terrified yelps and determined grunting.

They touched each other in a dozen improper ways.

But in the end, after a confusion of grasping and twisting, clinging and holding, he managed to keep her from crashing onto the hard planks.

“Are ye all right?” he asked.

She nodded. But it was absolutely not true. Her heart was pounding like a fuller’s hammer against her ribs. And it wasn’t only from nearly falling off the bed.

He was holding her upright against him, but her feet didn’t touch the floor.

Tendrils of his hair dripped water onto her bosom as he tipped his head down to hers.

His dark eyes looked like boundless pools as he gazed at her in concern.

His nostrils flared, and his stubbled jaw clenched as he held her safe in his powerful arms. Her thinly veiled breasts were crushed against his wet chest. And lower, she could feel the bulge of his naked loins pressing against that part of her that had burned with yearning.

He exhaled in relief, and she felt his sigh all the way down her body.

With a half-smile, he murmured, “I wish I could say the same for the cur—”

She didn’t take time to think.

She acted on instinct.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she surged forward to press her lips to his in a kiss of relief and gratitude. At least she told herself it was only relief and gratitude.