Oh, no. No and no again. She didn’twantto see him relaxed. She didn’t want to see the glistening skin she had just pictured in her mind.
“I have to fetch my hammock, sir.”
“It can wait.”
“But I don’t want to disturb you setting it up.”
“You won’t.”
“But—”
“Comehere, Georgie.” She heard the impatience in his voice. “This will only take a minute.”
She glanced wistfully at the door, her only escape. Even a knock just then would save her from having to go behind that screen, but there was no knock, no escape. He’d made it an order.
She gave herself a mental shake and stiffened her spine. What was she afraid of, anyway? She’d seen her brothers at their baths, and at all ages, too. She’d fetched towels for them, washed their hair for them, even washed Boyd entirely that time he burned both hands. Of course, he’d only been ten and she six, but it wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man unclothed. With five brothers under her roof, it was a wonder she hadn’t had more than just one or two embarrassing glimpses in all these years.
“Georgie…”
“I’m coming, for God’s…I mean—” She came around the screen. “What can I do…for…you?”
Oh, God, it just wasn’t the same. He wasn’t her brother. He was a big, handsome man who was no relation to her at all. And his skin was glistening wet bronze, and stretched so tautly over those bricklike muscles, bulging muscles. His hair hadn’t wilted, either. It was too thick to wilt, except for a few strands that curled damply over his forehead. She might think of him as an ox, but only because he was so big and broad. He was indeed broad, but solid. She doubted there was a soft part on his whole body…except maybe one. She flamed at the thought, and prayed fervently he didn’t notice.
“What the devil is wrong with you, youngun?”
She’d annoyed him, obviously, in not coming immediately. She lowered her eyes to the floor, a safe place at the moment, and hoped she looked suitably contrite.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll learn to move quicker.”
“See that you do. Here.”
The washrag with the soap inside it hit her square in the chest. The soap dropped to the floor. She caught the rag. Her eyes were now huge circles of dread.
“You want a new one?” she asked hopefully.
She heard a snort. “That one will do just fine. Come and wash my back with it.”
She’d been afraid he was going to say something like that. She couldn’t do it. Get close to that naked skin? Touch it? How could she?But you’re a boy, Georgie, and he’s a man. He sees nothing wrong in asking you to wash his back, and there wouldn’t be, if you were a boy.
“Getting your ears boxed affected your hearing, did it?”
“Yes…I mean, no.” She sighed. “It’s been a long day, Captain.”
“And nervous tension can wear a boy out. I understand perfectly, lad. You can turn in early, since I’ve nothing more for you to do tonight…after you do my back.”
She stiffened. She’d thought for a second there that she was getting a reprieve, but she should have known better. All right, she’d wash his blasted back. What choice did she have? And maybe she could take some skin off while doing it.
She swiped up the soap and came around the end of the tub. He leaned forward as she did, so when she got there, his entire back was presented to her, so long, so wide, so…masculine. The water, as much as she’d poured in, still only rose up a few inches above his hips, the tub was so big. And it wasn’t murky. The man had nice buttocks.
She caught herself staring, just staring, and wondered for how long. Not long, or he would have said something, impatient devil that he was.
Annoyed with herself, furious with him for making her do this, she slammed the washrag into the water, then mutilated the soap with it until she had enough suds to wash ten bodies. This she slapped against his back, then began to rub with all her might. He didn’t say a word. And she began to feel guilty after a moment, seeing the red marks she was leaving behind.
She eased the pressure, and her anger eased with it. She was staring again, fascinated at the gooseflesh that appeared if she touched a sensitive spot, watching the dark bronze skin disappear under bubbles, then reappear as they popped. The cloth was so thin, it was almost as if it weren’t there, as if there was nothing between her hand and his slick skin. Her movements became slower. She was washing areas she’d already washed.
And then it happened. The food she’d gulped down while waiting for the bathwater to boil in the galley was starting to churn in her stomach. It was the weirdest feeling, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that it was going to be full-fledged nausea. And she’d be mortified if she threw up again in his presence.Can I help it if it makes me sick to get near you, Captain?That would really go over well, wouldn’t it?
“I’m finished, sir.” She handed the washrag over his shoulder.
