Page 12 of The Rebellious Countess
“And now you’re comparing me to a cow?”
She lifted her chin and spoke to him as if she were an authority on the subject. “There are several similarities between people and livestock.”
Oh, this he had to hear. “What other similarities are there, Máira?”
Her cheeks stained pink, as he knew they would. “What cows will do while filthy, I will not.”
He couldn’t help his laughter. “I wouldn’t dream of touching you while covered in shite. After my bath however…”
“I will wash your hair, but that is it. I do not want to be married to you, but I don’t want you to die, either.”
“Why is that?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t.
“Because you’re my only way back to Scotland!” She nearly stomped her foot and he grinned. He really liked this fiery side of her.
“Hag, could you put the clothes I bought for my wife in our room? And I could use a change of clothing and shoes as well,” he asked, without releasing Máira from their locked gaze.
“That’ll cost ye another barrel of Scotch.”
He bit his tongue. She was trying his patience, when all he wanted to do was get a bath and then touch Máira to ensure every bit of her was okay. “Fine,” he muttered.
“You bought me clothes?” Máira asked.
“Yes.” It was his turn to be embarrassed, except he was so filthy, no one could tell.
Her tone softened. “When?”
“Yesterday.” He frowned trying to get the time back that was lost to him. “I think it was yesterday. When I came ashore.”
He didn’t want her to soften toward him. It wasn’t safe for either of them if she did. He needed to send her back to her family at Caerlaverock. Untouched. To do that, she needed to believe him to be a scoundrel of the first order.
He inserted a bit of crassness in his question by grabbing himself where he never had before in the presence of a lady. “Now let’s get to that bath, shall we? I find myself in need of my wife’s attention.”
She stomped past him toward the back door, but her body swayed a bit as if she, too, had trouble keeping her balance after the beating she’d received.
He pretended good humor and winked at the lads in the tavern who cheered him on. After all, a beautiful woman was going to give him a bath…how could he not enjoy that?
“Ow! Bloody hell, woman, you’re going to kill me.”
“If I was going to kill you, I would have hit you harder and you’d be dead instead of whining.”
“Are you sure I’m not dead?”
“You smell as if you were.”
She tossed the scrub brush into the water. He ignored it as he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. The wet shirt landed with a splash at her feet.
Máira jumped back with a squeak. “You did that on purpose.”
“I have never been accused of being a good sport.”
She snorted. “Of that I have no doubt.” She tried not to look at his broad shoulders, which were unfashionably sculpted in a manner to make a woman swoon. On board theMaribelleshe’d been too stunned to truly take note of all the dips and valleys defining his musculature. But now…now she had to swallow the lump in her suddenly parched throat. She’d seen farmers in nothing but trousers as they worked in the fields and stables on particularly warm days, but none, and she meantnone, had been built like Ellis?—
Elias. She dumped another bucket of water over his head and refused to watch the rivulets caress his muscular back as he sputtered.
Elias pushed the filthy water out of his eyes and glared at her. She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted out her hip, a smirk of satisfaction lifting the corners of her lips.
Then she froze when he reached under the water and started unbuttoning the falls of his trousers, all the while watching her.
