Chapter 6
Ailsa peeking at his backside amused Anders, but he hid the pleased grin her curiosity aroused in him as he settled down into the deliciously hot water.
In moments, it seemed his whole body melted as the heat penetrated sore muscles and the water dissolved the remaining sea salt from his skin.
It took all his control not to groan aloud.
When he could speak, he told her, “I’m in, lass.
I could use yer help to wash my hair.” Damn, he should have turned around before he sat in the tub.
She was behind him and he couldn’t see her expression or her posture.
Was she embarrassed to help him? Afraid?
Or, he hoped, eager? He had dreamed of a beautiful lass to wash his back.
Ailsa was even more beautiful than any lass he could have imagined. He was eager for her touch on his skin.
She came up behind him, brushed the top of his shoulder to let him know she was there, and ran her fingers across his head. “Yer hair is almost stiff with salt and sweat from yer fever.” She soaked a washrag in one of the buckets and draped it over his head and neck.
Immediately, the heat and damp loosened his neck, and the last vestiges of his headache eased on a moan. The broth had helped some, but this, and Ailsa’s touch, did the rest.
“Did that hurt? How does it feel?”
He let go a sigh and leaned back. Her soft, warm middle cushioned the back of his head. “Better than ye ken, lass.” Too late, he wondered how much she could see below the water’s surface. He moved his hands to cover his lower half. And he realized he was probably soaking her dress.
“Can ye dunk yer head in the water?”
He didn’t want to move, but he leaned forward and removed the rag, plunged his head into the water, and sat back up.
Water dripped into his face as he pushed hair out of his eyes.
The sensation disturbed him for a moment.
Because he’d come out of the sea dripping wet?
He picked up the wash rag and used it to scrub his face and its growth of beard.
How many days’ worth? He fingered the bristles and couldn’t decide.
“That’s good,” Ailsa told him. “I’m going to use some soap. Let me know if the cut on yer head stings.”
He dropped the washrag over his groin, leaned back and rested his arms on the top edge of the tub, depending on the sheen of soap on the surface of the water to help hide what was below it.
Ailsa applied some soap and began working it through his hair, her fingers kneading and stroking his scalp, both soothing and arousing at the same time.
Anders groaned aloud at the simple pleasure of her touch.
Immediately, Ailsa pulled her hands away. “Did I hurt ye?”
“Nay lass, just the opposite. Yer touch is worth everything I’ve been through since—” He stopped suddenly, searching for a memory of how he’d wound up injured on the beach. Nothing came to him.
Thankfully, Ailsa ignored his hesitation and went back to stroking his head.
Anders marveled at how she affected him.
When she traced soapy fingers into his beard, he leaned his head back on the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.
The more she touched, swirling soapy hands down his throat and onto his chest, the more she aroused him.
He would not have thought such a thing possible.
His unruly groin proved he wasn’t as weak as he’d first supposed.
When her hands continued below the waterline onto his belly, he straightened up and pulled them out of the water.
“I can manage the rest,” he told her, “if ye will wash my back?” He made it a request. He had to, because what he really wanted was for her to continue going where she’d been.
“Of course,” she told him with a wicked gleam behind her smile. “Lean forward.”
She knew why he’d stopped her. He retrieved the wash rag and gave it to her, bent forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, grateful the position hid what her provocative smile had done to him.
He’d hardened to the point of pain. If she didn’t finish soon, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself.
Finally, the sweet torture was over and Ailsa poured warm water over his head to rinse away the soap. “Stand up and I’ll rinse the rest of ye.”
And let her see what she’d done to him? “If ye dinna mind, I’d like to soak for a while. The hot water is soothing. Move the buckets by the tub and I will rinse myself when I’m ready. It must be near time for a meal. Ye must be hungry. Go. Ye dinna need to watch over me.”
“Ye could fall asleep in there and drown. Nay.”
“If I slide down, water in my face will wake me, dinna fash. Besides, the guard is just outside the door. I can call for help if need be. And the healer could return soon.”
Ailsa glanced toward the door. “I doubt she’ll be back before morning. Brana is having her first, and that could take hours yet.” She turned her gaze back to him. “Ye fear I willna like what I see.”
“Dinna be daft, lass.” He couldn’t recall having been given any complaints. Then again, he couldn’t recall much.
“I’ve seen a man before. I doubt ye are built any differently.”
“I’m a big man, lass. Everywhere.” He smirked, hoping she’d take the hint and leave without arguing further.
She didn’t.
“Then ye have naught to fear. I willna laugh.”
The more she goaded him, the more he wanted to react as he would when he and his brother went at each other.
Wait. Brother? Of all times to have another memory emerge.
Except it hadn’t really. He had no name, no image, no idea if the brother was younger or older, whether they got along or fought constantly, nothing.
Ailsa’s expression softened to one of concern as disappointment hollowed his belly, and must have showed on his face. “What’s amiss, Anders? I’ll turn my back if ye dinna want me to help ye, but I’ll feel better if I ken ye can get out of the tub and dress without falling on yer face.”
“Turn around. Ye are nay allowed to look.”
“I would never—”
“Aye, ye would. I saw ye when I stripped and went to the tub.” She colored prettily, didn’t she?
“I …”
“Dinna think to lie to me, Ailsa. I will ken it if ye do.”
“How would ye ken? We’ve barely met.”
“Long enough, and I’m bare enough,” he said to ease the sting of his demand with a jest, “so, turn about.” He twirled a finger to punctuate his point.
She crossed her arms and huffed out a breath, but she did as he asked.
Anders stood and picked up the first bucket his questing fingers told him contained warm water. He wasn’t looking forward to using any of the cold water, though if his thoughts continued to stray to the woman with her back to him, he might need one of them, or more.
He lifted the bucket and tilted it, letting the warm water stream over his head and down his back.
It felt so good to be rid of the itch from the dried salt on his skin.
He picked up the next bucket and poured it down his chest, As he did, he glanced around.
Ailsa faced away from him, but even the sight of her curves and glorious hair from the back made him hard.
He gave in and reached for a bucket of cold water.
That he dumped from waist high down his front, gritting his teeth on the oath the chill drew from him.
But it did the job. When he caught his breath, he opened his eyes to Ailsa standing before him, a bath sheet held open just above her eye level. What had she seen?
“After three buckets of water, ye must be ready for this. I didna think ye could reach them.”
Had she seen all of him? And what he’d done to tamp down his reaction to her presence?
He couldn’t see her face behind the bath sheet.
“Thank ye, lass.” He took the sheet and wrapped it around his waist, gathering the excess material in front.
He still stood in the tub, so the end dragged in the water, but at least now, he could move without exposing himself to her.
“Put a hand on my shoulder,” she advised, stepping close.
Touch her? How was he supposed to do that and not react to her again? “I can manage to leave a tub without help,” he told her, hoping his gruff tone would encourage her to step away.
Instead, she took his arm. “Ye have a leg wound. Ye may no’ be as steady on it as ye think. As long as I am here, I willna let ye fall.”
There was no arguing with this lass. She reminded him of … someone. Who? Anders closed his eyes and fought for control, then put a hand on her shoulder and stepped out of the tub. “See? I am well. Ye can release me now.”
Blessedly, Ailsa did so, but only to hand him another bath sheet. “Dry off. Yer clothes are clean and repaired, so ye can dress. Once ye can sit before me, I’ll dry yer hair.”
Her hand lifted as if she was going to reach for it, to stroke an errant curl off his forehead. He captured her hand in one of his. “I was right about ye.”
“About what?”
“That ye are a kind lass. I appreciate yer help, but truly, I can manage the rest on my own.”
“Ye might think so. Ye might even be able to, but I willna allow ye to risk it.”
“Has anyone ever mentioned how stubborn ye are?”
“Only ye and everyone else who kens me.”
Anders had to laugh at that, gratified that his chuckle made her laugh, too.
Like the rest of her, she had a beautiful laugh.
Sweetly musical and light-hearted. He wanted to hear it till the end of his days.
Which might come as soon as her da got home.
Especially if anyone found them like this, her standing so near, and him all but naked.
“Turn yer back and I’ll dress,” he told her, doing his best to protect her and control the urges driving him toward taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless.
He longed to show her what he was made of. What he could do for her. If only he could remember when he’d learned how to please a lass. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t recall the lasses he’d loved, though he felt certain there had been some. Perhaps even many.