Peter blocked her from the little man’s view. “Ivan, I’ve decided I will be of assistance to you—”
“Oh no need, my lord.”
Ivan’s sudden stiff-lipped deference turned Peter’s already soured stomach.
He shifted to move around Peter.
“I insist.” Peter shifted with him, adjusting his shoulders to block her as well. “I cannot possibly allow the lady... and her entourage... to travel these lands without proper protection.”
No doubt Ivan saw through the veiled threat.
“Then I accept your offer. Come, Brighit.” Ivan reached around Peter and grabbed her elbow.
Her entire body tightened like a bird captured in the claws of a starving cat. Fear and loathing wiped away any feigned nonchalance from her face. Something snapped inside him. She was not a loon and if Peter did not quickly put that lie to rest, the little swine would be using every opportunity he could to lay hands on her.
“Ivan, I must insist however,” Peter gently took Brighit’s arm out of his grasp, turning her away from the other man’s perusal, “that we treat this future bride of Christ’s with greater esteem than I have seen demonstrated thus far.”
Peter released her arm. “I believe it is unacceptable to have a woman of the cloth, so to speak, to be exposed to handling or ribald treatment of any kind which would include fighting. Am I correct?”
“Uh, I can’t say that I know—” Ivan said.
“Yes!” Brighit’s face lit up at his suggestion and she turned toward him, unaware of her dampened, and now nearly exposed, state. Peter tapped down the sense of pleasure her relieved expression gave him. He had to force himself to not look lower than her smile.
“Then let us allow you the privacy you have lacked thus far.”
Her face relaxed.
“Please return to your carriage and join us when it suits you.”
Ivan opened his mouth to protest but Peter roughly took his elbow as the man had just done to Brighit.
“Come now, Ivan. Surely her being in your care does not allow for an invasion of her privacy.”
The little man harrumphed. Peter all but dragged him to join the group at the fire. A backward glance caught him a glimpse of Brighit retreating into her carriage. If she had a few moments to herself, perhaps she would change the chemise soaking her gown and giving him another eyeful of her bounty before anyone else noticed.
Chapter Eight
Once she was safely within the carriage, Brighit grabbed at her bodice. She was sopping wet. Glancing down, she gasped at how transparent the material had become. Heat crept up her cheeks. Was that the reason Peter had sent her away? She whipped the gown over her head, pulling her hair loose at the same time, and stretched the offending garment across the bench. It wasn’t enough the man had an eyeful of her totally naked but now he saw again what no man had a right to see—no man but her husband.
But she would have no husband.
The realization pierced her chest, splitting her heart right down the middle.
No husband to look on her with pleasure. No husband to hold her close at night. No husband to meet her in that secret place where two become as one.
Her breath hitched.
But she had seen him naked as well. She closed her eyes and saw him again as he had appeared. As she should only see her husband. A well-honed warrior. Powerful. Strong.
His hand at her elbow, however, had been gentle, and the look on his face had been... appreciative.
The memory of him surveying her nakedness caused more heat to her face. He’d seemed surprised, yes, that was to be expected. But there was something else. For just the smallest of seconds, there had been... longing? The tightness in her stomach was there again.
“My lady?” The voice of the man traveling with Peter startled her. He was right outside the carriage.
“If I might offer some assistance? Perhaps the gown may dry faster beside the fire?”
“What?” Brighit had herself covered even though there was no way for him to see inside the carriage. He had noticed it, too? She felt sick.
