He doesn’t want me.
“I’m sorry,” she said, toneless, unable to look at him. “I need to go. They will be waiting for me.”
She spun away, knocking his arm. At least she thought she knocked it. For the next minute she cried out in surprise as ale doused her gown.
“Oh, no!” Her hands flew to the front of her bodice, the left side of which was now soaked with the lemony brew. “My dress!”
“Ah, hell.”
Something in his voice made her eyes fly to his face. He looked away quickly, but she’d seen it. Hunger. Raw hunger.
He’d been looking at her breast. She glanced down. Whatever had been hidden by her gown was hidden no longer. The water molded the fabric to her like a second skin. She might have been naked after all. She sucked in her breath, the primal awareness of his attraction washing over her in a hot wave.
“It’s ruined,” she said.
He’d gotten his reaction under control. “Is it?” He didn’t seem overly concerned. Actually he seemed pleased. “What a shame.”
Her eyes narrowed. It was almost as if…he’d done it on purpose. “It’s anewdress.” He didn’t say anything.
She stuck out her chest and held the skirts wide. “Don’t you like it?”
He gave her a swift once-over, assiduously avoiding her chest. “It’s stained.”
“I shall have to go change.”
“I won’t keep you.”
Hewaspleased. But why would he do such a thing? Only one explanation made sense.
“Here,” he said, taking the plaid from around his shoulders and wrapping it around her, covering her up. “You don’t want to catch a chill.”
For one flight of stairs? Her room was located directly under the king’s. He’d bundled her up as if it were the middle of winter in Norway. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed. It seemed her brother had been wrong after all. Not only had he noticed, he didn’t want her wearing the gown.
Magnus looked so pleased with himself, she couldn’t resist taking him down a notch. “It’s fortunate I ordered a number of new gowns along with this one.”
He stilled, and Helen felt a deep wave of satisfaction surge through her. Good God, she hadn’t thought him capable! He actually looked scared.
“You did?” he choked out.
She smiled with wide-eyed innocence. “Aye, though I’ve been a bit nervous to wear them.”
“Why’s that?” This time it was more of a squeak.
She grinned devilishly. “They aren’t nearly as modest as this one.”
She was rewarded with white lines around his mouth and the faint hint of a tic below his jaw.
When Helen left him standing there, he was clenching his fists, and she…
She had a decided skip in her step. The doubts of a few moments ago were gone. He did want her, and if his reaction was any indication, badly. Things were going to work out all right in the end—she just knew it.
A little more prodding and she’d have him.
Magnus watched her prance away and knew he’d just been deftly outmaneuvered. Worse, it was his own damned fault.
He’d been half-crazed with lust watching her serve the king his meal. It had taken every scrap of discipline he had not to let her see it. He’d done a good job of it, too—except for the shifting. Piles, Jesus! He shook his head with disgust. He’d been swollen all right. His cock had been as hard as an iron spike.
And Bruce—the blasted cur—had enjoyed every minute of his discomfort. A little too much. Magnus had seen the way the king’s eyes had lingered appreciatively on the swell of flesh rising above her bodice.
