Raine hesitated before he reached for the cloth. “I am trying to be honorable with you.” There was a strain within his voice, of a man who was battling his own urges.
Good. She wanted him to be frustrated, to feel the crushing weight of guilt. But more than that, she wanted him to abandon that path, to walk with her in whatever days remained. To find the fragmented pieces of honor that would convince him that surrendering her would not bring his sisters back.
As he approached, he kept his gaze downcast. But she watched his tall form, she let her gaze settle upon his muscled body and the blond hair that gleamed against the fire. She had touched his warm skin, feeling the beating of his heart against her palm.
He held the drying cloth out to her, but there was a slight tremor in his hands, as if he were hovering on the brink of his control.
Carice was beginning to understand that she was in a position of advantage. And if she could coerce him into changing his mind, this she would do. She would never wed Rory Ó Connor, for she was done with obedience. The illness had stolen away the life she’d wanted to have, the children she’d wanted to bear.
And she would go down fighting before she would let Raine de Garenne hand her to an enemy.
“Will you help me from the tub?” she asked.
The drying cloth fell from his hand. “You don’t know what you are asking.”
He was wrong in that. She knew exactly what she was doing—using every possible means of changing his mind.
“I may fall if I try to get out of this tub without your assistance.” She kept her tone light, but he didn’t smile. He held the drying cloth, but when he stared at her, she felt a sudden wave of shyness.
She was asking him to come closer, this man who had lied to her and brought her closer to her enemies. He might have conspired with her father, for all she knew. And yet, when she looked into his green eyes, she saw a man haunted by the past. The lines of his face revealed untold suffering.
“You ask too much of me. If I lift you from that tub, I’ll not be able to stop myself from touching you.”
She kept herself hidden within the water and regarded him. “Is that what you want?”
His green eyes burned into hers. “What I want and what is right are two different things.”
At that, she stood up from the tub, revealing herself to him. Water trickled down her naked body, down the slight curves of her breasts and her body that was too thin. Inwardly, she was trembling from fear. She was taking the greatest risk, hoping that he would somehow turn away from duty. “I understand.”
This was seduction, an offering she should not give. She knew that these were the actions of a woman of loose virtue. But there was far more beneath the surface of her offering. There was fear, a trace of shame, and worry that he would remain fixed upon his decision. Her heart was pounding, and at his silence, she wondered if she had made a mistake.
“Look at me,” she commanded, “and answer me with truth. In two days, will you be relieved that you will not see me again?”
He bent down and retrieved the drying cloth, his knuckles clenching against the linen. Slowly he lifted it around her shoulders, the cloth shielding her body.
He lifted her from the tub and brought her to stand before him. “You know not the man I am. Or the things I have done.”
Oh yes, she did know. But what she wanted to know was whether she could change his course. Carice reached up to take his face in her palms. “Is that the man you want to be? Or would you forsake your duties to stay with me?”
He closed his eyes, and she saw the rigid tension within him. “Do you want these hands upon you? These hands that have slain countless men?” He dropped his voice even lower. “Why do you offer yourself to me, when we both know I will leave?”
“Because I believe that you don’t want to go.”
He captured her hands upon his face, and the expression in his eyes was of a man drowning in need. “I don’t deserve a woman like you. Not after what I’ve done.”
His words took on a deeper meaning, for she was well aware of it. “Then change it. Be a different man.”
He brushed his thumb over her lips, sliding his hand down the curve of her throat. “Would that it were possible.”
“It is possible,” she whispered. “Come away with me. Let me live out the rest of my days with you.”
“I cannot. My sisters—”
“Do you truly think the king will free them?” she asked. “Or will he only use them to manipulate you?”
“Don’t—” he shot back. “My life is not my own. My choices are not my own.”
“Because you let them lead you by strings. You follow your commander’s will blindly.” She reached down for his hands, knowing her words were cruel. “But how do you even know your sisters are still alive?”
