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He started to say, "Speak for yourself," but did not. Weeks ago such a brazen statement
from her would have shocked him. Perhaps he was getting used to the way she spoke her
mind, if not to her inconsistencies.
"Do you still want that bath?"
She closed her eyes, though her lips still smiled. " 'Twould be nice, but I still will not go
below. I hope you will not make me stir myself to argue about it."
An annoyed sound came from his throat. She would stir herself to argue, but not to make
love. And he did still want her, regardless of her exhaustion and condition. But he had to
concede that she was undoubtedly right. He would feel cheated if her response to him was
sluggish, when her fiery passion was what he enjoyed most.
Kristen had opened her eyes at the sound he made, enough to look at him beneath her
lashes. Her mind must be as weary as her body. She had made an assumption based on
what she was feeling. It was not what he was feeling, as she could see by the way he was
looking down at her with an almost pained expression. He did in fact want her now. That
knowledge did not fire her blood. She doubted anything could at the moment. But it did
make her feel unaccountably good inside.
"If it pleases you, milord."
She saw him tense at her offer, but then he relaxed, his features softening too. "Aye, it
pleases me, wench, but I will do what pleases you instead. Come, you will have your bath."
She groaned as he caught her hand to pull her up. "Royce, nay. 'Twould please me more to
sleep."
Saxon milord
She was tired indeed to let his name slip out, when only or a derogatory had
passed her lips before. He was amused. He had never thought to see her quite this way.
Exhaustion had felled her guard completely.
"You need only stand for a few minutes," he told her with a grin. "I will do the rest."
"Stand?"
"Aye, here."
He brought her over to the container of water that had been set on his table. There was a
folded cloth there, too, a sponge, and a sliver of soap.
"This is not normal," she said with a frown. "You always wash downstairs."
"The bathing room will be used by my guests. When we have guests, water is always
brought here for me. You are not the only one affected by the heat in a crowded hall, though I
imagine 'twas worse for you."
"You can imagine," she said. "But the reality is even worse than that."
"Is our clime really so hard on you, vixen?" he asked as he began to undress her. "It has not
dampened your spirit until now."
He regretted teasing her as soon as he said it, aware that her pride might reassert itself and
she would be chagrined, thinking he made light of her suffering. She surprised him by
giggling instead.
"You know, if you had not laughed at me when I tore off my sleeves, I think I would have done
something foolish, the heat had me in such ill humor. Why did you find the gesture so
amusing?" He would not answer, and she grinned. "Did I remind you of a sulky child? 'Tis
how I saw myself after I heard you laugh."
He grunted, for she was too perceptive by far. But he certainly didn't see her as a sulky child
now. No child this, and he had made a grave mistake in thinking to wash her himself. The
moment she was completely uncovered he knew it. But she would not do it. Her eyes were
closed now. She was done with talking. She was practically asleep on her feet.
He hesitated too long, looking at her. "You do not have to do this, milord." Her eyes were still
closed.
Royce felt challenged now. "I know."
He reached for the soap, glad that she did not see the way his hands shook. He tried to
make quick work of lathering her, and tried to keep his eyes averted from where his hands
moved. It was not easy. Nor did it make any difference. What he could not see, he was
feeling.
He was mad to put himself through this, when he had no intention of bedding her afterward.
And he still would not bed her. The very fact that she would stand there and let him wash her
confirmed her exhaustion. And it was his own fault. He had not thought how the extra load
today would wear her down. His servants were used to these infrequent burdens. But they
were also used to Wessex summers. Kristen was used to neither.
He used the sponge to rinse her, letting the water soak into the discarded clothes at her
feet. There was such a look of pleasure on her face as the cool water trickled down her
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