“They’re already soiled. And I’ve nothing else to wear.”
“I think Katla has an extra gown,” she teased.
“I’d rather go naked than wear women’s clothing,a chara.“ He saw the sparkle in her eyes, and her spirits seemed to lift.
She continued to cut the remaining grain, taking careful steps. “I’ll finish this, and you can go back and labor with something more strenuous, if you must. I’m certain there are stones that need to be broken or heavy timbers lifted.”
A split second later, her feet slipped out from under her again, and she fell backwards. The scythe came spinning out of her hand, heading straight towards him.
“Jesu,” he breathed, dodging the blade. “Were you trying to kill me, then?”
She got onto her hands and knees, horrified by what had just happened. “I’m sorry, Trahern. I never expected—“
“I know I need to shave my head again, but not in that way.”
She sat back, resting her dirty hands on her knees. “I apologize again. It really was an accident.”
Trahern took a careful step, not bothering to pick up her fallen scythe. “You’re not going to be wielding blades again today. I value my life.” He tied up the grain they’d cut in a bundle.
Morren struggled to get up, but her heels slid out, and she toppled onto her back. “This is hopeless,” she complained. “I don’t know how I’m going to get back to the cashel without crawling on my hands and knees.”
Trahern’s hands were muddy as well, but he adjusted his footing onto a patch of grass, to steady himself. “I’ll help you.”
He lifted her into his arms, carrying her with careful steps across the field while carrying the grain bundle in his other hand. “I don’t trust you not to fall again. Once we’re on the grass, I’ll put you down.”
Her arms held tight to his neck, the cool mud warming upon his skin. “I should have known the ground would be too muddy.” The mud was spattered across her cheeks, but her eyes were bright with humor.
“You like working in the dirt, don’t you?” Trahern continued carrying her, trying not to think of how it felt to have her in his arms.
“Dry dirt, yes. Mud, no.”
He managed to bring them both to safety, letting her down. Morren stared at him in horrified wonder. “We both need to bathe or they’ll never let us in the cashel.”
His gaze moved past her face, and heat flared up at the sight of her body. The mud had plastered her thin gown to her skin, outlining the generous curve of her breasts. One sleeve hung down, baring a shoulder. Her hair hung in muddy ropes across her skin, tendrils that flirted with her tight nipples.
He remembered kissing her and how it had felt when the warmth of her tongue slid within his mouth. She was as desirable now as she had been yesterday. More so, with the way she’d smiled at him.
Trahern spoke not a word but dropped the grain bundle and headed straight across the meadow toward the river. He didn’t care whether the water was freezing or even if it held a film of ice. Right now he wasn’t thinking of cleanliness, only drowning out the maddening lust that was rippling through him. He dove off the edge of the bank, breaking through the frigid water and swimming long strokes to clean off the mud.
Morrenwatchedhimswim,not knowing what had caused him to go so swiftly. One moment, he’d been standing before her, and the next, he’d all but pushed her away.
She eyed the water, knowing how cold it had to be. But the mud was beginning to dry upon her skin, and if she didn’t clean it off, it would cause her skin to itch. Did she dare join him in the water? It looked terrifyingly cold.
“How bad is it?” she asked him, when he surfaced. Droplets of water slid over his skin, down to his mouth.
“Too cold for you.” He strode out of the water, his clothes completely sodden. Though the remark was probably true, she didn’t like the way he assumed she was unable to handle the temperature.
It couldn’t be that cold, could it?
Before she could lose her courage, she dropped herbratand ran off the edge of the bank, plunging into the water feet first. The shock of the cold river was like a blade through her spine, paralyzing her. She surfaced again, her teeth chattering.
“What in the name of Danu did you do that for?” Trahern demanded. He strode back into the water, reaching out to hold her steady.
“I n-n-needed to wash my hair.”
“The water is so cold, there was likely ice on it this morning,” he argued. “You could have drowned.”
“I’m t-t-tall enough to stand in it.” She reached back, trying to wash the mud from her hair. Trahern held her neck, quickly rubbing her scalp until the long strands were clean.
