Page 38 of The Knight Who Loved Me
James rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands in, letting the heat steam the tiredness from his hands.
“And have you sat in our bedchamber all day?”
“I have not,” she said, looking affronted.
“Then you are dirty. Wash.”
Isabel bit her lip, mutinous, then gave in. She plunged her hands in, scrubbed them together and removed them, wringing them out on either side of her.
James sighed. “You look like a dog shaking out wet fur.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a breath to speak. He forestalled her by clasping both her hands in a towel and holding them there.
“After we wash, we dry off like this,” he murmured, deliberately pitching his voice lower, softer, and gently rubbing the towel over her hands. He was amused when she yanked away and placed them in her lap. Aah, her lap, where he, too, wanted to be.
The first course was served and he tried not to watch her. She ate too quickly, put too much in her mouth, and didn’t use her spoon and knife correctly. The girl would be a disaster at court, let alone when he had company.
“You will not be starved, Angel. Slow down.”
She gave him a glance out of the corner of her eye and continued eating.
“So why are you not wearing that lovely dress I found for you?”
She ripped off a piece of white bread, put it in her mouth, and said, “I don’t wear gowns.”
At least that’s what he thought she said. It was hard to tell with her mouth full. He waited until she had swallowed before saying, “You will wear them eventually, Isabel, so you might as well begin now.”
She bit off another piece of bread and said, “You are naive to assume so, Bolton. Gowns are ridiculously confining, and I refuse to be confined.”
“You’ll have to be confined eventually—perhaps when you’re bearing my heir.”
He thought she swallowed hard at that, but she merely looked him up and down.
“You’ve not proved you’re capable of that yet, have you.”
He leaned closer and whispered against her hair. “Are you challenging me, Angel?”
She smelled good, soapy. He liked it—to his consternation. He wanted to nibble her earlobe, lick her neck. Instead he gritted his teeth, sat back, and asked, “So what did you do today, wife?”
“Nothing. I am a prisoner, remember?”
“You’ve already said you did not sit in our chamber, awaiting my return.”
She gave a soft snort.
“So what did you do?”
“I must report my every move to you? Have I no privacy?”
“None.”
She continued to eat, ignoring him.
“Let me see,” James murmured, studying her. “You visited with William.”
“I did not. He has duties to perform. I would not make his life here any more miserable than it already is.”
“So he has begun to complain already?”
