Page 77 of Bride of Mist
“Here,” he said gruffly, rising with a gesture. “Come take my place. Ye can dry your hair by the fire.”
He needed her as far away from the bath as possible. At the moment, he had no control over what was happening betwixt his legs. He couldn’t expose her to that.
Once she took his place at the hearth, he turned his back, undressing with as little fanfare as possible and immediately stepping into the tub.
He never heard her stealing up behind him. So when she suddenly said, “Here, I’ll pour in more hot water,” he started and stumbled, half-falling into the water with a great splash that sloshed out over the edge.
She squealed as the water drenched the bottom part of her shift.
All at once, he remembered the guest next door. The last thing they needed was a royal reprimand for the noise they were making.
“Sorry,” he whispered, shielding his lap from view with his hands. “I didn’t…”
“Hear me?” she said with a smug smile. “I know. I’m as stealthy as a cat. Say when.”
It took him a moment to digest her words. He was utterly distracted by the fact that her shift was of such fine linen, she might as well be wearing nothing at all. As she poured water into the tub, he could see the curve of her waist where it flared gently into her hips. The silhouette of her modest breasts, their tips puckered with the cold. The damp, dark shadow where her thighs were joined.
Then he made the mistake of looking at her face. Her eyes had gone smoky, and she was biting her lip.
By the time he realized what she’d said, the water was growing too hot.
“Stop!”
She flinched, startled. “Sorry.”
She put down the bucket. But he didn’t breathe again until she resumed her seat at the fire and started combing her wet hair with her fingers.
He snapped up the rag. Maybe a brisk scouring could distract him from the lingering effects of her gaze. For now. But it was going to be a long night of torment, sleeping just a few yards away from a woman who put Aphrodite to shame.
Chapter 20
The key to being a supreme warrior, Sung Li always said, was discipline. That was why Feiyan still practicedtaijiquanmost morns. She repeated the same exercises over and over every day. Through discipline, persistence, and self-control, defenses had become second nature to her.
At the moment, however, whether it was due to her overindulgence in ale or the unsettling presence of her former foe in a most disturbing state of undress, Feiyan found her mind wandering in a most undisciplined manner.
She was supposed to be strategizing how to infiltrate Kirkoswald.
Instead, all she could think about was how the Westlander’s bare skin would feel against hers. How his lips would taste. What it would be like to sink into the water and impale herself on that impressive dagger. That’s what it had looked like to her when she’d stolen a glimpse. A powerful dagger, unsheathed and ready for battle.
It gave her a secret thrill to know she might be the cause of its state. That Dougal not only saw her as a warrior, but as a woman.
One of the pitfalls Sung Li had warned her about was pride, about falling prey to flattery and adulation. They were a dangerous distraction. A disciplined mind was weakened by too much praise. And a humble warrior was one who could more easily steal up on her enemy.
She was currently stealing glances at Dougal. As he sluiced water up over his shoulders, her mind felt weak indeed. She imagined sliding her hands over the broad muscle there. Pressing her lips against his warm, wet flesh. Surrendering to his desire and her craving.
A loud pop from the fire startled her—as effectively as the clouts Sung Li gave her when she lost focus. Flushing with shame and regret, she tried to force her thoughts back to the challenge ahead.
But it was so difficult when a naked warrior—a commanding yet vulnerable, eye-catching, heart-melting, breathtaking Highlander—bathed only a few yards away.
Somehow, against her best intentions, her gaze slipped again and again to his formidable form while she dreamed of possibilities. His midnight black locks, twining around her pale fingers. His chiseled jaw, manly and coarse, grating deliciously against her smooth cheek. His sculpted shoulders, flexing under her fingers. His indigo eyes, staring deeply into…
Theywerestaring deeply into hers. Or theyhadbeen. Just for a moment. Yet in that brief splinter of time, she’d glimpsed a deep well of longing.
Her breath caught. Her heart fluttered. The silence crackled with unseen current.
For one precious instant, he’d seen her. Looked at her in a way no other man ever had. Peered into her innermost desires. Seen her naked emotions.
Though it felt like an eternity, the moment was fleeting. And when he began scanning the area around the tub, she feared his fleeting lusty glance might have been her imagination.
