Page 81 of Desire's Ransom
He frowned. Why indeed? He supposed, living with several men, she could satisfy her carnal appetites any time she wished, a thought that left a sour taste in his mouth. But didn’t she long for more?
“Don’t you dream of sharing your life with one special man? Having his children?” he asked. “Doing his laundry?”
Laughing, she tossed the launderedléineat him, smacking him in the face.
With a grin, he peeled the wet linen away and dutifully draped the thing over the hazel branch, next to four stockings and a couple of rags. Unfortunately, it proved too heavy for the thin limb, and the branch snapped. Theléinedropped into the mud, and the end of the branch landed in the water. He watched in horror as the stockings and rags floated off the end of the branch in the current.
“Oh, nay!” she cried, slogging forward in the stream.
He charged in after them as well, snagging two stockings. Then he slipped on the algae-slick rocks, stumbling into the water.
Swimming after the rest of the escaped laundry, Gray managed to catch the two remaining stockings. But the rags had already floated too far downstream to recover.
From midstream, Ryland threw his pair of wet stockings onto a flat rock beside the stream, where they thankfully stuck. He raked back his hair with both hands and prepared to apologize to Gray for his carelessness.
But when he turned toward her, he saw she’d drifted downstream. She was up to her neck in the cold water, clutching one stocking in each fist above her head, and fighting the current.
“Let go of the stockings!” he cried.
But she still held them aloft.
“Let them go! You’ll—”
Her head dipped under.
His heart pounding with fear, he immediately dove into the water and swam toward her. She was nearly submerged, barely gurgling above the waves with her arms still over her head, when he intercepted her. He swiftly wrapped his arms around her body and lifted her face clear of the water.
She blinked and sputtered as he swam with her, making his way toward the shallows. When she started shaking and gasping, he peered at her in concern, afraid she might be choking.
But to his amazement, the minx was laughing.
“Your face!” she cried with glee, as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever seen.
“My face?” he asked, incredulous. “You almost drowned.”
“Drowned?” She burst out in giggles. “Is that what ye thought?”
“What else was I to think?”
“Sorry.” She sounded anything but sorry.
She might think it was amusing. He did not. Still, it was hard to be angry when her gray eyes were sparkling like that.
She tried again. “Truly, Sir Ryland. I’m sorry.”
This time her eyes softened. He half believed her.
They were close enough to the shore to stand up now. Still disgruntled, he asked, “Why didn’t you just let go of the damned stockings?”
“Because they’re Lady Mor’s,” Gray said, “and she would snatch me bald if I lost them.”
Now that Gray was safe, he began to see the humor of the situation. But seeing her in peril had affected him more than he cared to admit. He took Lady Mor’s stockings from her, slogged toward the shore, and laid them out over a rowan bush.
When he turned back, Gray was wading out of the water. But unlike the first time they’d met at this stream, she wasn’t wearing her leather armor. Instead, she was dressed in only her linenléine. And she was soaked to the skin.
Her long, loose black hair flowed over her shoulders, falling away where her breasts emerged. Beneath the cold, clinging cloth, the tips were outlined in sharp relief. Lower, he could see the hollow of her navel. Lower still, he could make out the curves and recesses of her hips and the defined angle where her legs intersected.
He felt the air desert his lungs.
She might as well have been naked.
