Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(153)
Ruark gestured about the room. “Perhaps on the morrow you can find time to clean this chamber. The place is hardly fit for a man, and the lady most certainly is not conditioned to live in a sty.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll see it freshened and scrubbed for you. And if you need some woman’s chores done, sir, for a copper or two the lass Dora will be glad to oblige.” At Ruark’s questioning look, he explained. “The wee lass in the common room, sir.”
Once Gaitlier was gone, Ruark turned his attention to the bed. Pellier had indulged his creature comforts well enough. Two more of the filthy ticks were thrown out the window before he found one that seemed clean enough. He took fresh linens from a chest and spread them across the bed, smoothing them out as best he could. His early training had not extended to the proper laying of a bed.
Finally he brought a bucket to sit at Shanna’s feet and carefully removed the quilt and sodden garments, tossing the latter out the window. Dipping a cloth in the tepid water, he lifted Shanna’s face and wiped it clean, taking tender care not to unduly chafe the sun-pinkened cheeks. As he washed her hands and arms, his jaw tightened at the red welts around her wrists and the bruises that bespoke cruel pinches and blows from her captors. At least he had sent one of those to a well-earned end.
Placing her slender feet into the bucket, he washed the caked mire from the slender calves and thighs then patted them dry. For a brief moment he let his gaze wander over her in a longing caress. Though she had been roughly used, her beauty still held a piquancy that stirred his heart. As he considered her tangled hair, he frowned slightly, but there was little he could do for that now. Gathering her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and covered her with a sheet. Then, for a long space, he stood staring down at her, a scowl furrowing his brow.
“ ‘Tis a sad thing, my love, that you choose to take a lie as truth without question. Believe me, I have not betrayed you.”
It was almost as if she heard him, for her face softened and she rolled to her side, cuddling beneath the sheet, and in her slumber seemed more restfully content.
Placing a large chair in front of the door, Ruark set his pistols on a table beside it and slid around a small stool to rest his feet on. Taking a seat, he rested the sabre on his knees, relaxed, and sought his own rest.
Chapter 17
WAKING CAME WITH A BRIGHTNESS that seemed almost painful. Shanna’s mind became slowly aware of the disturbing glare. Light filled the entire room, and though she lay with her back to the windows, it still intruded, shining through her closed eyelids, penetrating into her brain. She retreated beneath the pillow, hugging it close over her head, to sink again in the outer fringes of slumber. She stirred sleepily as a hand began to caress the small of her back, kneading away the stiffness that she sensed more than actually felt. Lazily she stretched like a sleek, contented feline and rolled onto her stomach to let the strong fingers better do their work. A throaty moan came from her as she arched her back against the gentle massaging, letting it soothe her aches and pains. The hand plied her back and the soft muscles across her shoulders, sending waves of weakening pleasure up and down her spine. Languidly she rolled toward the source of her enjoyment until her back pressed against a hard, furry chest. Her head lolled upon the strong-muscled shoulder, and she rubbed her cheek against the smooth, warm skin. Then her mind tripped into full awareness. Only one person in her whole lifetime had ever shared a bed with her, and no one, not even Hergus, had rubbed her back. Her eyes came open, and all memory flooded back as she stared into Ruark’s smiling golden eyes.
“Oooohh!” The groan escaped her as she fell forward on her stomach and snatched the pillow over her head again, pressing it tightly to her ears. Still, she heard the gentle voice with a hint of laughter behind it.
“Good morning, madam. I trust your sleep has agreed with you.”
“Never before,” she railed with muffled disappointment, “has heaven turned so quickly to hell!”
“Reality, madam,” Ruark mocked lightly. “And a poor reality at that. ‘Twould seem we’ve adopted the local ways, as I note the sun is high and the noon hour is near. I fear we’ve slept the morning away, and as much as my poor, bereaved body cries out for yours close beside it, I must bid you rise lest our dastardly antagonists steal a march on us and set the whole day awry.”
Shanna snatched the covers from her head and gasped, realizing that she lay completely exposed to his gaze. Even more humiliating was the fact that he had apparently undressed her and put her to bed. Giving a moan of despair, she caught the sheet beneath her and rolled to bring its protective cover over her, but she came to an abrupt halt, once more against Ruark’s chest. He reclined on his side, head propped casually on his hand, pinning beneath his body the greater portion of the sheet. As his eyes played with hers, glowing devilishly, his arm curled warmly about her, and his hand stroked her bare back.