He took her back to the river, the weight of his hand heavy on the back of her neck, leaving his armor behind. He also left his fellows behind and she was glad that she would not be exposed to all of them.
Could she trust him?
Bartholomew shed his tabard and boots while the last of the rope was still knotted around her knees and wrists. Anna could not resist the urge to steal glances at him but dared not look fully upon him. He tugged his chemise over his head and she saw that he was yet tanned from the summer’s sun. A fleeting glimpse revealed that he was also finely wrought and muscled. He returned to her in his chausses and she averted her gaze, blushing as he made quick work of the last knots.
Anna’s heart was thundering and her mouth was dry. There was no seduction in his manner, though, merely purpose, as if seeing her clean was merely a task to be done. His cloak was cast aside and he frowned at her wet and dirty garb. “Youarefilthy,” he muttered.
“It is easier to hide in the forest when one smells like the forest,” she countered.
He arched a brow. “I suppose that is one excuse for it. All of it, off. It will have to be burned.”
Anna hesitated to undress before him. Though she was not shy about nudity, she felt so in such a man’s presence. She did not wish him to see the token she kept hidden between her breasts. “Will you not turn your back?”
Bartholomew grinned. “Would you in my place?”
“You wish to look upon me.”
“I wish to ensure you do not take advantage of me.” He fixed her with an intent glance. “Would you turn your back upon me, were our roles reversed?”
She could not help but smile, for she would not have done so. “Still, I would keep some modesty,” she said, trying to sound haughty. The weight of the ring on the lace around her neck was sufficient reminder of the truth. Anna turned her back upon Bartholomew and kicked off her shoes, then untied her belt and tugged her tabard over her head. She hesitated before unknotting her chausses and he cleared his throat behind her.
“Do you have need of assistance?” he demanded with impatience. “Because I should be glad to be of aid, if you have trouble with the knot.”
“Not I,” she said and shed the chausses with speed. The chemise was long enough to cover her hips, and she glanced over her shoulder at him.
“All of it,” he commanded and grimaced. “I cannot even see what color your chemise once was. God’s wounds but this water is cold!”
Anna untied the lace at the neck as she stepped into the water. It was icy cold. She tugged the garment quickly over her head, flinging it toward him, then ducked into the stream so that her nudity was hidden from view.
She did not flee, although she wished to do as much. Instead, she turned in the water to regard him. “I will stay here,” she insisted. “And you will stay there.”
“You will be quick,” he countered. She shivered, having no doubt of that. “Timothy!” he called over his shoulder and Anna sank lower into the water. A boy, clearly his squire and the one he had summoned, scrambled down the slope. He presented several thick cloths to Bartholomew and a small piece of something pale. The boy glanced at Anna but she crossed her arms over her breasts, remaining low. Bartholomew cleared his throat and the boy raced back up the slope.
“Soap,” Bartholomew said, crouching on the bank to offer the lump to her. “And a thick cloth to scrub away that mire. Be quick or I will do it myself.”
Anna eased closer, not truly trusting him, but he granted her both. Their fingers brushed and he scowled at her. “You are already chilled. Show some haste, Anna, and a care for your own welfare.” Then he straightened and stared down at her, his arms folded across his chest, as imposing as she might imagine any man could be.
Under his watchful gaze, Anna worked the filth from her flesh. The soap smelled wonderful, finer than any she had ever be so fortunate as to use, and the cloth was both thick and woven as if for this very purpose. She had never felt the like. It was most luxurious. She scrubbed so hard that her skin warmed. Had she not been so cold, it might have turned rosy. As it was, she found it most welcome to feel clean again.
“Your face,” Bartholomew instructed and she washed it as bidden. Her face was buried in the cloth when he spoke again.
“Do you need assistance with your hair?”
Anna jumped at the sound of splashing water in close proximity. Evidently he had not awaited her reply, for she felt his hands in her hair. She stiffened, thinking he meant to dunk her, but he did not. He rubbed some potion into her scalp and through her hair, then dipped her into the river for a moment to rinse. She came up sputtering and heard his chuckle as she wiped the water from her eyes. She kept low in the water to hide her treasure, knowing he would assume she meant to hide her breasts.
“Are you a lady’s maid or a knight?” she demanded, and Bartholomew dunked her again.
“You are not the first ruffian I have seen cleaned,” he said with humor in his tone when she came up for air. Anna shook her head and wiped the water from her face to find him close beside her, a twinkle in his eyes as he studied her. “Well, well,” he murmured. “There was a pearl in the mire after all.”
Anna felt her cheeks heat and might have retreated from the warmth in his eyes but Bartholomew reached for the lace around her neck. “What is this?” he asked, his curiosity clear.
Anna closed a hand around the ring. “A token from a loved one,” she said. “And no matter for you to see.”
His eyes narrowed. “The lace is dirty, as well.”
“The lace will remain.”
Their gazes held for a long moment and she feared he would challenge her anew, Instead, his expression turned stern and he stepped back. “Recall your vow,” he said, then scrubbed his own face and hair. He was not two paces away from her and she knew she would not get far if she chose to run. In truth, she did not wish to break her pledge.
