Page 39 of Outrageous

She yawned hugely in response.

“Are you sure you don’t want another nap between your bath and supper?” he jested. She was like a bloody cat and had slept on and off for most of the wretched day; he didn’t understand how she could be tired.

“No, I am famished.” The door opened and the two huge men entered, each bearing two large metal buckets.

“Enough, sir?” one of them said, his eyes sliding between Eva and Godric.

“Is that enough, Eva?”

“Yes,” she said without even looking.

Godric gave the two men coins large enough to get their attention and then locked the door behind them.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said, meeting her heavy eyes. “I doubt that water will be hot for long.”

“I won’t; I want this bath. I feel as if I’m coated in slime.”

Godric knew the feeling. “Knock on the door when you’re dressed. I’ll need to use the bath water.”

She frowned. “But it will be cold.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for my clothes.”

“Oh.” She seemed to notice his mud-encrusted clothing for the first time.

Godric closed the door and left her to her bathing, ringing for two basins of hot water, which came quickly now that word was out about the money to be had.

He stripped and gave himself a thorough sponge bath before washing his hair in the water and rinsing it with the second basin. He dressed in the clothing he’d worn yesterday. When he’d purchased garments two days ago—God, had it only been two days?—he’d not imagined he would actually need more to get himself to the bloody border.

There was a tentative knock on the door.

“It’s unlocked,” he called out, finishing tying his cravat before turning to find Eva hesitating in the doorway. She was wearing her last clean gown, the pinky-rose color flattering to her ivory skin and dark hair. Godric doubted there was a color that didn’t suit her. He frowned when he saw her wet hair. “You’ll catch your death if you don’t dry that. Use my hearth while we wait for our food. I’m going to go play washerwoman.”

“Quit ordering me about,” she said, but her voice lacked heat. “I’ll dry my hair in my room so I can watch while you display your domestic talents.”

Godric snorted but carried the pile of dirty clothing to the next room in his stocking feet as he didn’t have a second pair of footwear.

She leaned sideways in front of the fire, her hair a heavy black curtain that she combed with her fingers. “I’ve never seen a man wash clothing before,” she said with a sly curve to her lips that roused his slumbering cock.

“Have you ever done washing?” he asked, already guessing the answer. He dipped the corner of one of the tatty towels into the cool bathwater and commenced to clean his boots.

She wrinkled her nose. “Thankfully, no. I’d rather muck out a dozen stalls than faff about with clothing.”

Godric wasn’t surprised—not by the first part, nor the part about her mucking stalls.

“Did you have to do this sort of thing often, when you were, er, on the Continent?”

He cut her a glance, fully aware she’d avoided using words like war and soldier because he’d behaved like a vaporous chit whenever she’d done so.

“Sometimes, but not often,” he admitted. “My batman kept excellent care of me.” And Godric wished like hell Darling were here now. Although he’d have to suffer a bloody bin full of amused abuse from the laconic bastard. He held out the boot once he’d wiped off all the mud, eyeing it critically. Well, it would do for tomorrow, but it was undoubtedly ruined.

“I think those are done for,” she said, echoing his thoughts.

He picked up the second boot. “There is steam coming from your hair,” he observed. “You’d better be careful or you’ll set it on fire.”

She shrugged, but did move fractionally farther away. “If it caught fire, then I could cut it all off.”

“That seems like a rather drastic way to go about getting a haircut. Why don’t you just employ a pair of scissors rather than risking your life?”