Page 20 of Love Me Forever
Honorable.
He had questioned honor of late, and here she told him of his honor.
He answered as he felt. “You can always trust me.”
Her stomach rumbled loudly.
“You need food.” He attempted to move her away from him so that he could get their meal.
She would not allow him to. “Nay, I feel warm and comfortable. I do not wish to move just now.”
“Your stomach disagrees,” he said, though his arms remained firm around her.
“I will eat soon enough. For now, I wish to enjoy where I am.”
He did not argue with her, for he enjoyed where she was, and the thought that she wished to be there filled him with a sense of peace. He liked sharing the bed with her, he liked that she relied on him, he liked that there were only the two of them. He liked her more than he wanted to admit.
When both their stomachs began protesting, it was decided that they should eat. Brianna felt well enough to feed herself, but after her ordeal Royce would not hear of it. And she had agreed to follow his edicts—for now.
They talked and laughed and shared a pleasant meal together, but then all their meals had been enjoyable. They had formed a bond of friendship that grew stronger day by day, much stronger than either of them wished to acknowledge.
After Royce cleaned up from their meal, he returned to her bedside, leaned down, and with a grin asked, “Would my lady care for a bath?”
Her eyes rounded in wonder. “You tease me.”
“Nay, there is a half-size wooden barrel outside the door that I could bring in, and it would serve as a perfect bath for you. I can heat the water to a pleasant temperature, and without effort I can carry you to the tub. Besides, I think the wet heat would help ease your pains.”
Brianna desperately wanted a bath, but he had done so much for her and he was recovering from his own wounds. She raised her hand to his face, gently running her finger over his swollen lip. “You must be tired from all you have done for me.”
Her touch was like none he had ever felt, feather soft, and it tingled his lips, masking the pain of his wound. If she could ease his physical pain so easily with a simple touch, what, then, if her touch turned intimate? Would her hands hold the magic to ease his anguished soul?
Not thoughts he should be having at the moment, and he made haste to chase them away, though they lingered in his consciousness. “Nay, I need no rest and I heal?—”
She pressed a gentle finger to his lips. “Slowly. You need a poultice for a wound or two, and rest would serve you well.”
It did his heart good to think that she actually cared for him. “When you are well enough, you can prepare a poultice for me, and after your bath we will sleep and I will rest.”
“Is that an order? My bath, that is.” She smiled, feeling a comfort she had never thought to feel with a man.
“Need it be?”
It pleased her that he made it seem she had a choice.
“Nay, it need not be, a bath sounds much too inviting to deny.”
Her hand slipped down over his chest to the blanket. It was a lingering descent, and one he felt through his shirt.
He wished—he stood abruptly, forcing his thoughts away from where they insisted on drifting. He was about to give her a bath. He damn well did not need to be dwelling on intimacy.
“Rest, I will prepare everything.”
She snuggled beneath the covers, her body feeling a sudden chill. It was from no draft or cold drift of wind. It was from the anticipation of Royce holding her naked in his arms and helping her to bathe.
The cottage door closed quietly behind him, and in mere minutes he would return with the tub. She so wanted a bath, just the thought of the heated water soaking her skin made her sigh with pleasure. And why should she concern herself with thoughts of how he viewed her body? He was not her husband.
She cringed at the thought. Here she was alone in a cottage with a man who was more a stranger than not and who looked after her and touched her with the intimacy of a husband.
“Nay, not intimacy,” she whispered. He touched her with respect, not once laying an intimate hand on her.
