Page 16 of Loving the Blacksmith
Agnes’ heartbeat slowed down as relief spread through her. This was an accident, nothing more. The loss of the hut was a pity but no one had been hurt and no attackers were coming. She could relax.
Before she could ask any more questions Magnus appeared in front of her. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be injured.
“Are you all right?” she asked nonetheless. She needed to know he was not hurt.
“Yes. I will need a good wash though.”
He rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes, which would be stinging badly because of the smoke, and looked at his body in consternation. Agnes could only agree he needed a wash. His hair was matted with sweat, his cheeks streaked with soot, his clothes filthy. It was all she could do not to gape. Clean, he was impressive enough. With black marks all over his skin, he was awe-inspiring, like a savage warrior on campaign.
“I’ll go to the river now.” Even his voice had gone rougher.
“Why don’t you use the tub you found for me the other day? It should be big enough for you.”
Three days ago Magnus had surprised her by hauling an enormous wooden basin into the forge, an old trough he’d cleaned and sanded. When she’d asked him about it, he’d replied that he wanted her to be able to wash with warm water. Unable to resist the offer, she had taken the first tub-bath of her life that very morning. The pleasure of lingering in warm water had been indescribable. She wasn’t sure she would ever bear to wash in cold rivers ever again.
“It would be more comfortable and that way I will be able to help wash your hair and back.”
The way Magnus stilled made her realize what she had just said. It had sounded so intimate, an offer only a wife would make. The woman she had been talking to gave a cough andhastened away, as embarrassed as if she and Magnus had started undressing one another in front of her.
“You would do that?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. She knew what he meant. After what had happened the day before, did she trust him not to overstep boundaries?
Yes, she did.
“I would.”
Without a word he took her by the hand and led her to the forge. Even if she had wanted to retract her offer, she couldn’t have. Her wild blacksmith was holding her too tightly.
Even with the fire roaring,it took forever, or so it seemed to Magnus, to heat up the bucket of water he’d placed at the center of the furnace. In the end, he didn’t have the patience to wait until a second bucket was heated so he emptied the water he and Agnes had drawn from the well into the tub along with the hot one he’d just added. Cool water was better anyway. It might help him keep some control over his senses. Because he was fast regretting agreeing to her proposition. Well, not regretting it, but wondering how he was going to stop himself from demanding more than a wash once she put her perfect, wicked hands on him.
He hadn’t been able to resist his need to be touched in the cave, when he’d been fully dressed, so what chances did he have now?
“Could you turn around while I get in the tub?” he asked, not sure why he was doing it. It was not as if he minded her seeing his naked body, or his hardness. It was not even as if it would be the first time she’d seen it. But she turned around without comment and busied herself with stoking the fire behind her.
When he was settled, with his legs dangling over the rim of the tub and his erection hidden under his cupped hands, he called out to her. “I’m ready.”
Agnes moved so quietly he had not realized she’d come to the tub until he heard her voice in his ear.
“Shall we start with your back?”
He closed his eyes, as anticipation seared his every nerve ending.
Taking his silence for agreement, Agnes gathered his hair to place it over one shoulder, to give her access to his back. As she did so, her knuckles grazed his neck. A shiver descended all the way to his toes. She wet her hands before scooping some of the soap from the earthenware pot he’d brought from his hut. In a moment she would start. Then it would be too late. Perhaps it already was. He should have pointed out that he could wash on his own. He should have made her leave while she still could. But he merely nodded and bent forward to allow her to lather his shoulders and spine. When her hands, small and slick with soap, landed on his skin, he could not prevent another shiver. This was going to be torture.
And he would relish every moment of it.
As Agnes rubbed and circled his flesh, a groan built in his chest, and he could do nothing to stop it from escaping his lips. It came out like an animalistic snarl. The rhythm of her stroking faltered and he tensed in turn. Was she going to flee, frightened by his reaction?
Heart pounding, cock throbbing, he waited.
Eventually, she resumed her ministrations and he allowed himself to breathe again.
“What happened with the hut exactly? How did it catch on fire?”
That she was only asking to break through the tension of the moment was obvious, but he indulged her. Talking might helphim keep the worst of his lust in check, and it was only normal that she should wonder what had happened.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I saw the beginnings of the fire while I was at the back of the forge. I called to a few men but we could not extinguish it. Dunne arrived when the flames had already spread to the roof. The hut was beyond saving at that point, so she urged us not to put ourselves in danger. We simply ensured the fire did not spread to the other huts, or even more importantly, the mill. Fortunately, it was not a windy day.”
It would have been a disaster otherwise.
