She did, while feeling her heart thundering and her face burning, yet trusting him despite everything.
He kept fiddling with her ties. Through the thin linen of her chemise, she could feel warmth but no impropriety; only the simple, steady care of his touch.
“Ye have the patience of a saint,” she muttered, partly to distract herself.
“Nay saint,” he said barely in a whisper. “But I have eyes. And ye’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
“Aye, I ken.” He continued washing gently. “I’ll be quick.”
But he wasn’t hurried. He took his time, each movement careful and measured. This was not a warrior, but a man tending to something precious.
Davina’s throat tightened. No one had ever touched her with such quiet reverence, not even her own mother when she was a child.
He slid his hand across the line of her collarbone, down to her chest.
“Baird…” Her voice came out thinner than she intended. “What… what are ye daeing?”
His gaze lifted to hers, utterly unashamed. “Taking care of me wife.”
She swallowed. “This is more than helping.”
“Aye,” he murmured, “feels like more, daesnae it?”
Heat swept up her neck. She wanted to deny it, to claim she felt nothing but embarrassment, but her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. His touch was careful, always careful, yet her whole body seemed tuned to every pass of the cloth, every shift of his breath.
Feeling overwhelmed, she stepped slightly backward, seeking balance. Her hand brushed against him. And his reaction was immediate, as he inhaled through his teeth. Davina froze. She felt something hard, and she pulled her hand away immediately, as if scorched.
Her brow furrowed. “What was that?”
“Naething,” he replied, withdrawing the cloth from her skin.
“That was nae naehing,” she insisted, feeling confused and flustered. “Did I hurt ye?”
He let out a strangled laugh, which startled her even more. “Nay, lass. Ye didnae hurt me.”
“Then what?—?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Ye truly dinnae ken what that was?”
Davina shook her head, mortified by how warm her cheeks felt. “Should I?”
His gaze swept over her chemise clinging damply to her from the washing and her hair tousled from his hands. She felt as if he were drinking in the sight of her as she was, dirty and messy and utterly unlike herself. The thought made her blush even more fervently.
He stepped closer again, slower this time, and his voice brushed her ear like a touch. “It means, Davina… that I’m a man. And that ye are standing very,veryclose.”
She blinked rapidly. “Oh.”
“Aye,” he said, a teasing note returning to his tone despite the tension riding through him. “Oh.”
She felt suddenly dizzy. “Is that… normal?”
“Fer me?” He gave a tight smile. “Around ye?”
Just as she was about to nod, a knock on the door interrupted them. Davina startled so violently she nearly dropped the useless cloth in her hand. Baird stepped back at once and for a moment they only stared at each other breathlessly, the heat between them still trembling in the space left behind.
Another knock. “Me laird?”
