She’d stung his pride, and he wondered how much of his anger was really because she’d managed to help her nephew escape under his watch.
He swore and raked his fingers through his hair, his nose wrinkling as the stench of last night’s festivities and days of hard riding leached out of his skin.
He needed a good dunking in the burn. Perhaps it would clear some of the fogginess from his head. The foulness of his temper, he suspected, would not be so easily washed away.
With slightly more vigor, he rounded the corner of the Hall on the way to his tent and came to a sudden stop.
Bloody hell!His fists squeezed at his sides. He’d told Seton to stay away from her. But there was his partner, ducking out from beneath the flaps of the tent with a broad smile on his face. Whistling, unless Robbie was mistaken, as he rambled over to the next tent.
Black clouds darkened Robbie’s already foul mood. Blackthunderclouds. He stormed toward his tent. He would deal with Seton later, after he found out what was going on. But if she thought she was going to trick his partner like she had him—
He stopped. God’s bones, was that what she was doing? Was that why Seton looked so happy and relaxed?
Robbie couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. His heart was hammering in his head, causing his mind to spin out of control.
Iain Douglas started to say something but slammed his mouth shut, obviously thinking better of it.
Robbie strode past the two warriors, pushed between the flaps, and steeled himself for what he might find.
His stomach knifed when he saw her. There was nothing in her appearance to contradict his suspicions. In fact, it was the opposite. She was seated on Seton’s bed combing her long, damp hair, her cheeks still flushed from her bath—or lovemaking—wearing…
Christ, she was wearing the plaid he wore on Highland Guard missions and, unless he was mistaken, one of his tunics!
As he entered, she glanced up with a gasp of surprise. Her eyes found his warily.
He ignored the stab of conscience. “What was Seton doing in here?”
His voice came out louder and angrier than he’d intended—and more accusing.
Her eyes widened and then narrowed with a glint of mischief. “What do you think he was doing?” she asked with a flip of her head. “I needed help with my bath.”
He crossed the tent in two strides and hauled her up against him. “Do you think this is a jest, my lady? I assure you it is not. What did you do, take your ‘offer’ to Seton? Was he more amenable than I?”
She turned away in disgust. “You are a fool.” He felt like it. A jealous one. “If you must know, he was in here to fetch a few items, presumably to bathe as I did.” She wrinkled her nose. “You might consider doing the same. You carry the stench of yourcelebrating.”
Her icy composure grated against his already flared nerves like sand on an open wound.
Robbie glanced toward the bath, a dangerous idea taking form. He stepped back, a slow smile curving his mouth. “What a brilliant idea.”
He jerked the mail coif—the one concession he made toward heavy mail—over his head and tossed it on his bed. Next came the thick leathercotun. He’d been so eager to get out of there last night, he hadn’t even taken the time to remove his armor. By the time he got to the linen shirt underneath, her eyes were two full moons.
“W-what are you d-doing?”
“What you suggested.” He finished pulling the shirt over his head and threw it on top of the others. “Taking a bath. Would be a shame to waste the water.”
She sucked in her breath, taking in every inch of his naked chest. His muscles tensed of their own accord, a natural reaction to being the recipient of so much study. Staring was putting it mildly. Gorging was better. And despite his anger, he felt himself warming under the heat of so much feminine appreciation.
Who in Hades was he kidding? It wasn’t feminine appreciation, it washerappreciation. He’d never wanted to flex and strut around like some damned peacock in his life.
Only when he started with the ties to his chausses did she tear her eyes away. The delicate flush that had pinkened her cheeks drew pale.
“With me here?” She gaped. “You can’t.”
“I assure you I can. And you are going to help me.”
“What do you mean, ‘help you’?”
“I would have thought you would be familiar with the tradition for the lady of the castle to wash her important guests.”
