Closing the door, she clasped her hands in front of her.She eyed him warily.What he was to do could cause great scandal but he did not have any other choice.And Lorna was no innocent and these were times of war.Sacrifices had to be made, even if it was the woman’s virtue.
“Help me undress her down to her shift.We can bathe her that way.”
“Perhaps I should get one of the other women,” Anne offered.
“To lift her?Ye might manage to get her in but ye’ll never have the strength to pull her out again.”
With a sigh, Anne moved to Lorna’s side, and between them they divested her of her filthy gown.He flung it to one side and kept his gaze averted as the maid peeled down Lorna’s torn stockings.Once those were cast aside, he hefted her into his arms and lowered her into the water.The white linen of her chemise immediately clung to her skin, like a child to its mother, and became translucent.
Unwelcome heat stirred in Logan’s veins and the site struck him as familiar.Her nipples grew visible and there was no hiding the curves that he did not realise she had.The woman was small in stature yet admirably endowed.He gritted his jaw and pushed up his sleeves to slide an arm around her shoulders and hold her in place.
Lorna showed no sign of life as the warm water sloshed around her.Were it not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, he would think her dead.Anne worked quickly to clean the grime from Lorna, a blush staining her cheeks.The lass’s skin warmed beneath his hands and the faint pounding of his heart slowed.
He helped Anne rinse her hair and rub in some tonic with one hand.Again, flickers of remembrance tore briefly through his mind, but when would he ever have washed a woman’s hair?
While he concentrated on drawing long breaths in through his nostrils, Anne blotted her hair with a towel and Logan lifted her out.Water dripped on the floorboards and down his legs.His garments were near soaked, but the realisation they still needed to strip her damp chemise from her made him forget the discomfort.
He nodded to the bed.“Place the towel there and put one over her.”
The maid did as he bid and he lowered the woman to the linen towel.Anne flung the other towel over her and Logan spun on his heel to turn his back to the appealing sight.Who knew the woman’s beauty would increase when encased in damp fabric and with wet curls framing her face?A less honourable man would be hard pressed to resist.
Less honourable?He had never considered himself honourable.Where had these thoughts come from?Yet he felt the inappropriateness of their situation strongly.Had he once been a man of principle?To come from nothing and to be Laird Gillean’s chieftain, he must have sacrificed many principles, and he had hardly spent the past seasons working to prove his honour.The need to prove himself drove him.Not honour.
Nevertheless, he kept his back turned as wet fabric slopped to the ground and the sound of linen being rubbed over skin made him clench his fists.
“Sir,” Anne said quietly, causing him to turn.
The woman lay safely tucked into the bed though her naked shoulders forced his imagination to places he did not wish it to go again.
“Have ye some spare garments?”he asked.
“Aye.I believe some of her gowns are still in storage from when the keep was hers.”
“Fetch one, will ye?”
“Aye, sir.”
Anne left.
Left him with this beautiful, naked woman.He pressed his fingers to his temples.What had he been thinking?He should have kept her in the donjon until Gillean returned.If she died, it would only serve her right for sneaking into the castle.Though he knew well her death could bring more trouble than she was worth.
Not to mention she knew of him.
He edged closer and hovered over her.Was it simply him remembering a time he had met her?Perhaps he had been attracted to her then too.Her nose, slightly too snubbed to be considered beautiful, made him want to skim his fingers across it and touch each of those freckles.Each part of her belied the fiery countenance he had encountered in the donjon, from the fair, angel-like hair to the sweet point of her chin.
His heart galloped when her lashes fluttered.Breath held, he watched as the pale blue of her eyes became visible under half lifted lids.Recognition sparked in those eyes and she jolted upright.Before he comprehended what had happened, this petite, naked woman had flung herself around him and pulled him down upon her.
“I thought ye dead,” she cried.“Finn said ye were dead.”
He fought her hold, tried to pry her hands from his neck but her grip remained strong.His body inevitably responded to the soft breasts flattened against his chest and as he fought to lift himself away, his hands came into contact with her waist and the curves of her hips.
But her strength did not last and her illness must have eaten into her surprise as she relented and fell back.She did not seem to notice her nudity so he hastily covered her while she gazed up at him.Tears glinted in her eyes and he heard her sharp intakes of breath—an effort to control her emotions he assumed.
“Why are ye here?Where have ye been?Are we to escape?”She clutched the blankets around her.“Why am I naked?Logan, I—”
He lifted a hand to silence her.“How do ye know me?”
Her eyes widened.“Ye were in the donjon.Yer voice...ye kept me locked up!Logan, what—”
