She rolled her eyes as she soaked one of the rags with oil. "This smells good. What is it?"
"Soap, I think your people call it."
"Our soap doesn't smell like this. Like magic."
He shrugged and returned to the previous subject. "A company is like a kingdom, yes?"
"Yes. I suppose."
"So you were already a queen."
"I...never actually thought of it that way but kind of wish I had. Bow to me!"
He chuckled.
"What about you?" she asked. "What do you do in your spare time? Paint?"
"Yes. I also-never mind."
"Let me guess. Have sex."
He gave a single nod.
"There's never been anyone special?" As soon as she asked, he knew she wished she could take back the question.
"No one. Nymphs have one mate. Only one."
"What happens if that mate dies?"
"The nymph dies with her."
"Wow." She searched the tray for the item she wanted. "How are mates chosen?"
"Chemistry. Fate. A thousand others things, I'm sure."
"So you don't really know. Got it."
A corner of his mouth curled up. "Do you have a pet?"
Longing lit her features. "No. As a child I wasn't allowed. Fur would have dirtied my mother's clothes."
"But you wanted one." A statement not a question.
"Yes." With a scowl, she slapped the cloth against his wound. "This topic is stupid. Let's discuss something else."
He was beginning to see a pattern to her bouts of anger. Only when her sense of detachment was threatened did she react with waspishness.
"You like people to think you are cold and unfeeling," he said. "You've even tried your hardest to convince me of this. Several times. Why?"
"Look, my mom made me see shrinks when I was a kid." More gently, she cleaned away every impurity. "I don't need an amateur diagnosis right now."
"Tell me," he beseeched. She might think she wanted to be cold, but he saw the moments of warmth and softness she tried so hard to hide.
"There's nothing to tell, really. Over the years, I learned that relationships-love-always lead to pain and upset."
He frowned. "That isn't even close to the truth. Love heals."
"I've never seen an example of that." She probed the edge of his wound with her fingers. "This cut is pretty deep. I think you need stitches."
He bit his lip to hide his wince. He'd never had to deal with a wound before. After a battle, he'd always gone straight to a woman and had sex, his wounds disappearing of their own accord.
"What I need is sex," he muttered.
"Are you pushing me? That sounds like pushing." She scowled, even as she tenderly dried the injury. "I'm more than willing to go get one of the other women for you."
As her words echoed between them, she pressed her lips together. A combination of rage and trepidation flitted over her expression. Did she fear he would take her up on the offer?
"Ah, little moonbeam. When will you learn? Only you will do."
She relaxed, her expression softening. "When will you accept the fact that I don't sleep around?"
He plucked the ends of her hair and sifted the silky strands through his fingers before he brought them to his nose to sniff. Ah, sweet heaven. "You smell so good."
"Yes, well, I can't say the same for you."
He took no offense. "I'm most definitely in need of a bath. Would you care to join me?"
A quiver raked her, and she tossed the bloody rag into the hearth. "No, thank you." Next she picked up a clean rag and scooped sand into a gaping pocket. "You do realize I'm about to put sand in an open sore, right?"
"Right."
"And you still want me to do it?"
"Of course."
She shook her head, incredulous. "Whatever. It's your infection." But she hesitated a moment before smearing the grains into his injury.
He didn't speak for a long while. He concentrated on her breath, gently fanning his shoulder. He concentrated on her teeth, nibbling on her lower lip. He grew painfully hard all over again.
When wasn't he hard lately?
After she'd wrapped the wound in a bandage, he stood. His nerve endings were sensitized, his skin pulled too tight over bone. He burned from the inside out.
Her gaze lowered, and she gasped. She jumped away from him, as if he'd morphed into a monster.
"Put that thing away," she said. She even pointed.
Feared the mighty sword between his legs, did she?
"That," he said, "is a he, and he is here to stay."
"Don't tell me you've named-"
"King Longstaff and his trusty knights," he interjected, teasing her more fun than he'd had in a very long time.