Moving quickly, he removed his clothes and walkedinto the small, knee-deep stream that the men were using to wash. Unable to fully dunk himself, he used his hands tosplash the icy water over him and rinse away as much of the grime and stench of practice as he could. It was cold as hell, and he made short work of it, getting in and out in a couple of minutes. Which was fortunate, as he’d barely finished tying his braies when Elizabeth came bursting through the trees that provided privacy from the camp.
“You can’t—” She stopped, seemingly unable to find her tongue. She gaped at him, eyes widening to take in more of the chest she was so blatantly admiring.
He’d been about to pull on his shirt but instead he picked up the black leather chausses he’d been wearing earlier.
“I can’t what?” he asked calmly.
She blinked a few times, tearing her gaze from his chest long enough to meet his eyes, only to slide it back to his chest again.
He fought a smile. The lass was clearly flustered.
Good. He liked her flustered.
Finally she shook her head and returned her gaze to his. Remembering what she’d been so eager to tell him, she held up the scrap of parchment he’d left with Joanna. “You can’t make this.”
He lifted a brow, pretending not to understand. “Jamie won’t know it’s from me.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Jo said there is a forge near the abbey that I can use—there will be no chance of Jamie discovering what I am doing that way. The sword she wants me to make for him will be a surprise. It’s all arranged. I spoke to the smithy earlier, and he’s agreed for a small fee to let me use his tools after he is done for the day. I should be able to work for a few hours after my duties are done before retiring for the evening. I will have to clean the forge, but it isn’t anything I haven’t done before.”
She narrowed her gaze, as if she suspected he was purposefully reminding her of all those late afternoons she’d sat and watched him do the same.
Guilty.
“It’s not the forge.” Her eyes fell to his chest again, but this time her mouth tightened. “Will you put on your shirt?”
Amused, he crossed his arms and gave her a lopsided smile. “Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen me before. More of me, in fact.”
Her cheeks heated at the memory and her eyes seemed to dip against her will.
Hell. Despite the cold, he started to swell and almost regretted teasing her—almost.
More determined this time, she clenched her fists and forced her blazing blue eyes back to his. “The design for the sword is all wrong. It’s far too simple. Don’t you remember all those discussions we had about design and embellishment?”
“I like simple. What does it matter what it looks like as long as the sword does its job?”
She groaned with the weary frustration of generations of women who’d tried to make a man see something that was obvious to them. “We’ve talked about this before. You can charge more, for one, and by making something special—something unique—you will create an object of desire and increase your reputation. You need to make a sword worthy of your skill and of Jamie’s position. A sword that people will envy.”
She’d been preaching the same message to him for years—which is exactly why he’d left the crude drawing for Joanna to show her. Just as he’d known she wouldn’t be able to resist finding out why he’d come to see Joanna, he’d also known she wouldn’t be able to resist finding him to complain about the design he’d come up with.
She came around to stand beside him, holding the drawing out for them both to see. “There needs to be scrollwork on the crossguard and hilt, which should be covered in silver gilt, with maybe a large ruby here”—she pointed to the tip of the pommel—“there should be a design etched on the blade, and the scabbard should be inlaid with gold and more precious stones.”
She looked so outraged he had to fight not to laugh. Instead he acted as though he’d barely heard her and continued putting on his clothes—finally donning his shirt.
“Draw something up if you like,” he said, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
She glared at him angrily, clearly annoyed by his indifference. “I will!”
She started to stomp back off toward camp but he stopped her. “Wait. I’ll take you back. You shouldn’t be walking around camp by yourself.”
She shook her head. “Someone might see us. I’m just supposed to be fetching...” Her voice dropped off, and she looked around. “There it is! I must have dropped it when—”
She stopped, her cheeks heating again. She quickly ran back to the edge of the trees where she’d first seen him and apparently had dropped the excuse she’d given for heading down to the stream. “I’m fetching a fresh bucket of water for Helen. I volunteered to help her look after the wounded men today.”
He lifted a brow, impressed by her resourcefulness. Although he probably shouldn’t have been given how often they’d devised ways of being alone when they were young. She also seemed to understand the risk.
“I’ll watch you from the trees all the same.”
