Chapter 8 #2
What sort of an answer was that? He drew back and looked at her, eager to know what the problem was. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I don’t know what came over me. When I left the bath, I felt the overwhelming urge to cry.
I just…” She shook her head, as if unable to explain what she wanted to say.
“I miss my family; I don’t know what I’m doing by going all alone to Scotland or what I’m hoping to achieve.
And that man by the river… Old John’s son, he almost— He—”
“Hush. I know, but everything is all right. You will see your family soon. You miss them because you love them, which is a beautiful thing. And you are not alone going to Scotland; I’m here, and I’ll be with you all the way.
As to the rest… It’s over.” He tightened his hold around her.
“It’s the shock making you cry. It’s only normal, for what happened to you was shocking. ”
It was not surprising she should feel the aftermath of the assault when she realized how close she’d come to being raped. He’d been wondering at her remarkable composure, but it was understandable that she would collapse once she was safe and able to relax.
“Were you hurt in any way?” he asked, realizing he had not asked her the question before.
She’d told him she had stopped the man before anything could happen, but perhaps he had hit her?
Thrown her to the ground? Had she seen a bruise on her body while she washed, was that what had brought on this crisis?
“No. I told you, I managed to stop him before he did more than take me in his arms.” With those words, she nestled further into his embrace, as if to chase the memory of the other man and erase his touch from her skin. Alexander was only too glad to offer her comfort.
“I’m sorry.” He should have punished the bastard for frightening her, for daring to touch her. His punishment had been too light by far.
“It’s all right. Just, please hold me. I need to be held.”
There was no choice but to do as she asked.
The only problem was that she was almost naked, and in his lap, and that he was a man, a man who had spent the best part of the evening obsessing about her luscious body…
The shift she was wearing was damp and provided very little protection.
He could feel the softness of her curves pressing on his groin and the heat of her skin under his palms.
Alexander repressed a groan. This was even worse than it had been on the horse, but he could not let her go. She needed him.
“Better?” he asked once he felt that she had stopped trembling.
“Yes, thank you.”
He allowed himself another moment, then he gently lifted her from his lap and deposited her back onto the bed. “I will go tell Henry that they can take the tub away. We can’t keep it for the night, it’s taking up all the space.”
Gwenllian knew Alexander was avoiding her.
And she knew why. It was partly due to embarrassment at her outburst, and partly because of the desire he felt for her.
She had felt him harden against her hip while he’d held her.
She hadn’t been sure of his arousal earlier on the horse, but there had been no hiding it this time, with only her delicate shift and his tight hose between them.
As for her, her anguish had quickly transformed into something else, something far more licentious.
Fortunately for her, the signs of a woman’s desire were not as obvious as a hard shaft jutting out from between her legs.
Only she had been aware of the tingling in her nipples, the slickness between her thighs and the ache in her loins.
Alexander might have been none the wiser.
She certainly hoped so because otherwise she would be mortified. She already was.
He threw her a heated glance that reached all the way to her toes, making her realize that, unlikely as it was, this part of her body could feel the effect of desire as well.
“I won’t be long,” he murmured. “Get into bed, ’tis getting cold.”
She watched him exit the room and did as she’d been told. Suddenly, she was exhausted. The bath had relaxed her, and the events of the day were no doubt taking their toll.
These events, of course, had not all been bad.
They included the kiss between her and Alexander.
It had not been mentioned once, even if it felt as if both were very aware of having shared such intimacy but wary of the consequences.
And in truth, it was probably better that they never mentioned it, because what could she have said?
That she wasn’t sure why she had kissed him?
That she wanted to do it again? None of these options was a good idea.
And what would Alexander say if he knew what she thought?
It wasn’t long before the tub was removed and they were alone in the room once more. Gwenllian was still tucked under the covers, having not wanted anyone to see her in her state of undress. With Alexander, it had not seemed to matter, somehow.
“All ready for the night then?” he asked, looking at her for the first time since he had walked back into the room. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he was ill at ease. But surely Sir Alexander Rathbone was the epitome of confidence?
“Yes, I’m ready,” she said, weary to her bones.
“Me too.”
He spread the blanket he had procured from the tavern owner in front of the fireplace and then unbuckled his scabbard. From her place on the comfortable bed, Gwenllian felt guilty at the idea that, after a three-day ride, he was going to have to sleep on the hard floor.
“Are you sure you—”
“I’m sure. Go to sleep, Buttercup.”
Everything within her melted at the nickname he had only used twice since he’d known her real identity.
He’d told her it did not suit her, and she agreed, but she still enjoyed the intimacy of having a name only between the two of them.
No one else had called her like that, and no one would again, in all probability. She found she would miss it.
“Good night, then,” she said, turning to her side. If she saw him on the floor, she knew she would ask him to join her in bed. And just as equally, she knew he would refuse. It was not worth going through all that trouble.
“Good night.”
It was only when a sunray came to tease her the next morning that Gwenllian understood that, despite her guilt, she had fallen asleep as soon as she had closed her eyes.
She was about to turn to the other side to see whether Alexander was awake when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him walk over to the basin of water that had been brought for them the night before.
Thinking her still asleep, he had removed his tunic and shirt.
Deciding that pretending to be asleep a little while longer was the best option for now, Gwenllian watched him through half-lidded eyes.
From where she was, she had an unobstructed view of his broad, muscular back, with its muscles rippling in the morning sun.
She was reminded of the day she had walked in on him naked in the light of the fire.
Not that she didn’t think of that moment regularly…
It had become a favorite image with which to fall asleep.
Today would provide her with another happy memory.
As she watched Alexander splash his face and chest as discreetly as he could, Gwenllian found herself wondering whether she wished for another night alone in a room with him or not.
Then he stretched, arms lifted to the ceiling, neck arched.
Her insides coiled—and she concluded that they had better reach Nead an Diabhail as quickly as possible.
She would not be answerable for her actions otherwise.