Page 41 of His Betrothed
Chapter 12
Roselyn was torn about her role in this farce—should she play the shy maiden and turn away, or boldly watch Thornton disrobe as if she were a wife in truth? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him naked before.
But this was different—he was no longer unconscious, or even badly wounded. He knew what he was about as he began to remove his garments, pausing to look up at her, his mouthquirked in half a grin as if to say,Well?
“You forget,” she said, “I have been a wife.”
His smile died, and she knew with sickening certainty that angering him would not help her cause.
“And Grant did not require you at his bath?” he asked.
“He did not need such help—he was not a child.” She could have also added that Philip wouldn’t bathe more than a few times each season.
She held herbreath, waiting for Thornton to erupt because she’d implied that he was a child.
Instead, he grinned. “The man didn’t know what he was missing.”
She was thankful for the dark, so he couldn’t see her blush.
“But you are right,” he continued. “You’re not my wife, and ’tis unfair of me to shock you. Help me into the barrel, and then I’ll remove the breeches.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I only allowedthis to go on so long because I thought you would surely realize how impossible a bath is.”
“Lady Roselyn—”
“I will not help you in this foolishness which, should you hurt yourself, would set back your recovery by days.”
By candlelight she could see the anger and indecision in his eyes. “Very well,” he said abruptly. “I shall wash outside tonight, where I can thoroughly soak myself. But don’tgo running off.”
“And why not?” she asked unsteadily, trying to chase away the image of Thornton naked in the yard, with streams of water running down his body. “Surely you want privacy.”
“What if I fall? I don’t want to have to yell when I need you—we mustn’t awaken theHeywoods.”
She glanced longingly at the dark cottage, knowing that he was right.
Softly he said, “You forgot to set thesoap within reach.”
Gritting her teeth, Roselyn strode back to the half wall where she’d left the supplies. Keeping her gaze on the ground, she set the linens and dish of soap on the crate beside the barrel. Her hands shook just knowing that he was nearly naked, that he stood so tall and confident, affecting her in ways she didn’t want to contemplate.
She returned to sit on a bench in the courtyard,beneath a black sky freckled with stars. The air was warm, though a breeze ruffled her skirts.
She glanced once at Thornton, then gave a little gasp as his flung his breeches onto the stone wall, which thankfully hid him from the waist down.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he called, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “After all, you tell me you’ve seen all this before.”
She silently refusedto give him the satisfaction of looking away. The lantern didn’t illuminate him well, and he was only a glimmer of moving shadows as he washed himself. Very faintly, she heard him humming a tune she recognized.
With a start, she realized she didn’t want tobelieve the worst of him—for all his arrogance, he didn’t seem like a traitor.
Yet he would be no good to the Spanish if he weren’t convincingas an Englishman.
Covering her face with her hands, she tried to remain calm, something she’d perfected before his arrival. Now it was a struggle not to react to his words, to the growing temptation of his body.
“Roselyn?”
His whisper made her stomach clench. “Yes?”
“Can you wash my back?”
