The smile his action had put on her face wasn’t going anywhere for quite some time.
Abby ducked her head back in the water, making sudsy the ends of her hair with the lovely little soap, hoping to banish the smell of charcoaled forest.
The hot water lapping around her sore muscles felt almost good enough to make her forget that she’d always favored showers over soaking in her own filth.
“When in Rome,” she murmured in an attempt to silence her annoyingly active inner critic.
All things considered, what she experienced at this moment was like living in the lap of luxury. If your lap happened to be located in the Highlands of Scotland, circa 1306, that is.
The water had begun to cool to an uncomfortable level by the time she finally managed to drag herself out of the tub, and she shook out the bundle of drying cloth the maids had left for her use.
No wonder terry cloth towels had caught on so well. Would catch on, she amended. These things were like trying to dry yourself off with big linen sheets.
A quick look around reminded her that the big linen sheet she was disparaging was all she had to wear for the moment, since the clothing she’d taken off was soot-covered and soggy and Colin had sent all their other things off with one of the maids to be dried in the kitchens.
Seeing no alternative, she wrapped herself up, toga-style, pulling the end of the cloth up and over her shoulder and tucking it into the tight wrap around her breasts.
Once she felt herself securely covered, she gathered up her dirty things and dropped to her knees, shoving her pile of dirty clothes into the tub. It might not be the best washing they’d ever get, but it had to be an improvement over what they’d been through in the last five or six hours.
She’d just started to wring out the long pants when the door opened and Colin entered carrying a tray laden with food and a large jug.
“Good,” he said as he set the tray on a small, round table in the corner closest to the fire. “Yer out of yer bath. Come up from there and join me for a bit of supper.”
Abby grabbed on to the side of the big tub to push herself up to stand, every single one of her muscles screaming in protest at the move.
As if he read her mind, Colin was at her side in an instant, his hands under her elbows taking the full force of her weight to lift her to her feet.
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him and might have said more if not for the chill of his hands on her arms. “Your hands are like ice. What have you been doing?”
“You had the tub, so I used the loch. Was no so warm as yer own fine bath, my lady.”
No wonder his shirt and plaid clung wetly to his body.
“Here.” She walked to the bed and scooped up the second drying sheet that had been left for them. “You should probably get out of those wet things. You can drop them in the tub with mine and I’ll wash them out after we eat.”
A look of surprise danced over his face. “Is that what you were doing there on yer hands and knees? Washing yer things? Roderick has maids to do that for you, wife. You’ve no need to do it yerself.”
“Those girls that were in here before?” She handed him the drying sheet and turned her back to wait while he changed. “I don’t think so. They were just kids, and besides, I’m guessing they’re all in bed by now.”
Behind her she heard the slap of heavy wet cloth hitting the stone floor.
That would be his plaid.
Followed by another wet plop.
His shirt.
Abby bit the inside of her bottom lip, struggling to wipe from her mind the image of him standing behind her completely naked. In the buff. Gloriously buffed in fact, she knew from experience. She’d seen him thatway one too many times not to have the image engraved on the back side of her retina.
“Do you think you might lend me a hand with this?” he called. “I canna seem to manage the fastening as you have with yers.”
Her mind blanked for a second when she turned, the vision of him wrapped in the drying cloth, his damp hair curling at his shoulders, filling every available brain cell.
She crossed to where he waited and reached out to take the cloth’s end from him, only vaguely embarrassed by the way her hand shook as she looped it over his shoulder.
“There you go.” She tucked the end behind the material wrapped at his chest, patting it for good measure.
Or perhaps simply as an excuse to touch the hard expanse of his chest.
