“There’s a screen. I promise I won’t look.”
“Davina…”
“Kit…” she teased. “The way I see it, you have two options. Wait until my things get here, or…”
The thought of spending another second in this grime was enough to have me desperately scratching at a bit of muck on my neck.
“You will not peek around this screen. I do not care if the house is on fire. Am I clear?”
She raised a brow, before dragging her gaze from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I took it for an affirmation and began digging in the side chest of drawers for a shirt and breeches I could borrow from Sydney. He was quite a bit taller than I was, but we had a similar build. They would have to suffice.
I took one last moment to fix Davina with a stare. She rolled her eyes. “I promise.”
Once behind the screen, I undressed efficiently and with much less care than I usually did. It was entirely probable that these clothes were beyond salvage. I stepped into the tub without examining the water too closely. Sarah and Simon didn’t need the extra chore to refill it.
Tepid water had never been such a relief and I sank all the way in, dipping my head beneath the waterline.
In spite of the relief, my bath was quick and perfunctory. I wasn’t willing to linger with Davina just on the other side of the screen, probably growing restless, and only took the time to scrape the filth from my skin and hair.
In short order, I was shucking on Sydney’s shirt and breeches. As predicted, I had to cuff the bottoms several times, but they would at least cover me before Davina became listless and found some new adventure.
When I stepped around the screen she chuckled at the sight of my bare feet and cuffed breeches.
“Laugh when your underthings are covered.”
“Well struck.” Something about the sight of her perched on the end of a bed, fresh-faced and pinked skin, chemise and lacy edge of her corset on full display, hair wild and free, was arresting. And less amusing than it had been a few moments before. Much less amusing.
Even my sister’s ill-fitting dress wasn’t enough to detract from Davina’s charms.
“Kit?”
I shook away the imprudent thoughts. “Sorry. I’ve a head wound, remember?”
“You’ll have a scar,” she replied.
“Celine finds Will’s to be rakish and handsome. What about you? Should a man have scars?”
Dark eyes considered me. “It’s an improvement. You’re too pretty.”
“I beg your pardon?” I choked out.
“You’re too pretty. The scar helps. The beard as well.”
“I’m too pretty?”
“Yes. It’s the lips, and the eyes, and the hair. I know more than one lady who would never dream of wedding a man more beautiful than her.”
“Truly?”
“Yes,” she said, as if that were sufficient explanation.
“Every time I think I understand you, you prove me wrong.”
“I try,” she chirped.
“I’m going to help Sydney with the wagon. It should be here soon. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?”
“I make no promises.”
