“Ouch!” she gasped, snatching back her foot. “It’s boiling hot.”
He shook his head and reached for her foot. His fingers grazed her arch on the underside and the ballof her ankle above her foot. Ryan felt the contact up and down her leg.
“One stream of the water is very hot—yes,” he told her. He propped her foot on his bent knee. “The hot band of water comes from the thermal spring. But there’s another stream that falls beside it, and it’s very cold—the temperature of any stream you might encounter. When you bathe, you mix the two together. May I?”
Mesmerized, Ryan nodded. Carefully, he lifted her foot from his knee, extending her leg. With his other hand, he cupped the cascading water and ladled it over the proffered foot. Ryan jumped, afraid of being scalded, but the water from his palm was warm.
“Do you see?” he asked, his voice had gone hoarse. She looked to his face, studying his profile. He was intently focused on cradling her foot in his hand and diverting the falling water.
“Oh yes,” she said softly, “that’s very nice, actually.” She wiggled her toes and leaned back, giving him more leg. He slid his hand from her heel to her ankle, splashing the water higher. Ryan’s breath caught. The warm water on her cold foot sent tingles up her leg; his large hand on her ankle set off a fizzier, bolder wave of sensation.
“Give me your other foot,” he said, settling her first foot on the grate. He took up her other foot and squeezed, enclosing it in his large hand.
“You’re freezing,” he mumbled, massaging her foot. “It was careless to go back out.”
Ryan had some vague notion of carelessness and outside, but it was hardly her focus. Every pulse of attention was on his hands. She struggled to stayupright on the ledge. She had no words. She could only stare, vision blurred, at the top of his head as he bent over her foot. He knelt so close to the waterfall, moisture saturated his shirt. The fabric had gone translucent in the candlelight, and it clung to his muscled arms and shoulders. She’d known he was powerful—he’d carried her up a mountain—but seeing the size and shape of him kneeling at her feet? She couldn’t look away. Mindlessly, she settled a hand on her skirts and ever so carefully tugged, inching up the fabric to bare more ankle to him... then shin... then calf.
“Dip it in.” He extended her foot to the waterfall. His voice was now winded and rough. His chest rose and fell. He was... he was—
He feels it, too, she thought.
Ryan knew too little of men to assign a name to the “it” in question, but she could identify a shared experienced. She was also short of breath. Her hands shook. Did his heart pound? Her heart beat so furiously, it could fracture the walls of this cave.
“How does it feel now?” he rasped.
“What?” A whisper.
“The water? How does it feel?”
Glorious, she thought, but she said, “Hot and cold. Both at once. I feel heat around the edges and little stabs of cold in the middle. But also somehow warmth throughout?”
He glanced up at her. His eyes were half lidded. She wanted to touch his face.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s a mix; but you should feel warmth most of all.”
“I feel very warm, indeed,” she whispered. Sheused both hands to cinch up the hem of her dress, raising it to her knees.
“Allow me to...” he said, but he didn’t finish. He settled her foot on the grate—both feet now stretched into the cascade—and began to gently massage the warm water into her legs.
“Does the puncture wound pain you now?” he asked roughly.
She shook her head. She felt the opposite of pain. She felt only tingly, prickled pleasure and an urgent sort of building, a sense of anticipation, of breathless longing. His hands massaged higher on her leg with every swipe, and Ryan had never known such humming pleasure. She leaned against the damp rock and closed her eyes.
“Shall I help you unfasten your dress?” he rasped.
Her eyes sprang open. “Um...”
“It’s a waste to wash only your...” he turned back to her legs, bare now to the thighs “...feet,” he said.
“Well, I suppose if you don’t mind about the dress.”
He shoved up. “Turn round.”
Ryan blinked at the sudden command in his voice. Her heart twisted toward him, like he’d called it by name. Pulse racing, skin tingling, she retracted her legs and dropped her skirts. She stood on shaky legs and slowly revolved, presenting him with her back. He stepped to her.
For a long moment, he did nothing. She felt his looming presence like the hot vapor from the waterfall.
“Your hair is in the way,” he said.
