He wondered what had happened to her in those ten years?More importantly, why did he care?
Boyd looked up at the window of their room and saw her silhouette against the candlelight.
His body tightened with want so fierce it nearly brought him to his knees.
He'd been harsh with her earlier, cruelly so, about not bedding her.But it had been self-preservation.
With a growl of frustration, Boyd turned and headed back into the inn, this time to the scullery where the cook mentioned a hot bath had been readied for him.
The bath was quick and efficient, several buckets of hot water, a rough cloth, and lye soap.Not luxurious, but it served its purpose.Boyd scrubbed away the day's grime and sweat, trying not to think about his beautiful, maddening wife awaiting him upstairs.
Afterwards, he dressed in clean clothes and joined his men in the common room for a meal.They ate in companionable silence, exhausted from the long day's ride.But Boyd barely tasted the food.His mind was upstairs with his wife.He prayed he had the strength to keep his hands to himself.
"Ye should go to her," Thamas said quietly, interrupting Boyd's brooding thoughts."The mistress has been alone long enough."
Boyd wanted to argue, but Thamas was right.He couldn't hide down here all night like a coward.
Finally, when he could delay no longer, Boyd climbed the stairs to their room.He paused outside the door, his hand on the latch.
He took a deep breath and opened the door as quietly as he could.
The room was warm from the fire, bathed in soft golden light.Then he saw the bed.
Boyd stopped short.
The bed was empty.Made up neatly, undisturbed.
Where was she?
His eyes found her then, and his breath caught.
Bella lay curled on the small trundle cot that had been positioned at the far end of the room.She'd wrapped herself in her thin cloak, using her travel bag as a pillow.Her dark hair spilled across the makeshift bedding, and in the firelight, she looked impossibly vulnerable.Impossibly beautiful.
Boyd's jaw clenched.He wondered what she was doing sleeping on the cot like a common servant when there was a perfectly good bed.
Without thinking, Boyd closed the door then moved toward her.She looked exhausted.There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, her face pale even in the warm firelight.He shook his head at his bonnie, maddening wife who refused to complain or bite back.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Boyd bent down and began to slide his arms beneath her.He decided he'd lift her to the bed where she belonged, where she'd be comfortable.But in a heartbeat, everything changed.
Bella's eyes flew open.Her body moved with a speed and precision that left Boyd no time to react.She planted her hands on his chest and used his own momentum against him, pushing hard as she simultaneously swept his legs.
Boyd stumbled backward, directly toward the bed.He hit the mattress hard, bouncing slightly, and before he could even process what had happened, Bella was on him.
She straddled his hips, her thighs bracketing his body, one hand pressed against his chest while the other held a blade, a wickedly sharp knife, poised at his throat.
Boyd went completely still.
Not just because of the shock.
But because Bella was on top of him, her body pressed intimately against his, her shift riding up to reveal the soft skin of her thighs, her unbound hair falling like a dark curtain around them.
And his body, damn him, his treacherous body, was responding with undeniable interest.
"Bella!"he hissed, trying to ignore the way his hips fit perfectly into the cradle of hers."'Tis me!"
Her eyes, wild and unfocused with sleep and adrenaline, slowly came into focus above him in the dim light.She blinked once.Twice.
"Boyd?"Her breath smelled like mint and her voice was a breathless whisper.But the way she said his name, breathy, confused, her lips parted in surprise, sent heat straight through him and he hardened instantly.
