When she raised her eyes again, she found he was looking back, and smiling with a certainty of having his way that sent a jolt through her—anger, and something else. She wasn’t sure what exactly, but it made her pulse race.
“Ye may soap ma hair, lassie, and talk tae me if ye will.” He stepped into the tub, lowering himself until the milky water covered the parts Flora had been admiring.
Now was the time. He would have no idea of her intention until the knife plunged through his throat. She had only to summon her courage but, faced with her moment of action, her heart pounded. She must do more than merely pierce the skin. She must either open his throat entirely, or drive the blade deep through the sinew. Half measures would send him thrashing and crying out for help. He might easily wrench the weapon from her hand; might easily overcome her.
The dog, meanwhile, watched with curious eyes.
“I hope ye be settling, lass. ’Tis hard to be away from all ye know.” Dipping over, he cupped water generously upon his head. “The soap be on the side, if ye’ll be so kind.”
Curse him!
How could she end the man’s life when he was being so infernally polite—and with that great lummux of a dog gazing on?
Picking up the block laid upon the washcloth, she raised it to her nose, inhaling the scent of heather. She would do this, washing the man’s hair: a last act of respect before undertaking what she must. Meanwhile, she needed to remain calm—to do naught that might arouse his suspicion. “Aye, ’tis nae so easy being divided from those we love.”
And ye were the one to part me from my beloved father, ye villain!
Ragnall leant back against the rim and closed his eyes as she massaged across his scalp, then moaned when she pushed her thumbs into the base of his neck.
“Ye’ve a gentle touch, lass.” Sitting up again, he bent forward, the easier for her to wash through the suds.
Taking a small jug, she did so, and the rivulets ran across the hard muscles of his shoulders.
Moving further down, she leant forward. The next she knew, his thumb was grazing her nipple, dampening the linen of her smock.
In surprise, she jumped back. “What’re ye doing!”
He’d pushed the hair from his eyes and was looking at her through wet lashes. “I’m sure ye know, lass. I didnae bring ye here only to help me bathe. ’Tis company I need.”
He beckoned her closer. “I shallnae do aught against ye will. ’Twill be pleasure for us both, if ye but join me.”
“Join ye?” Flora's heart began to pound.
“Why, in the tub o’course.” Ragnall offered his smile again. “’Twill be a squeeze, but if ye sit astride, we may accomplish things to mutual satisfaction.”
Urgh! The man was insufferable! As if she’d gain pleasure from seeing to his carnal needs!
“I must tell ye, I’m shocked ye would suggest such a carry on.” Flora had little difficulty summoning her righteous indignation, though it did not escape her that, if anyone had a right to enjoy her body, it was the very man stretched out before her. “Ye should know, I’m saving myself for the marriage bed.”
Ragnall nodded gravely. “Yer sense o' virtue does ye credit but, if ye do decide tae let me love ye, and the good Lord sees fit tae send a bairn tae yer belly, I’ll take care of ye.”
A rush of fury rose from the pit of her stomach. So, that was the way it was. He took them to his bed and then placed his by-blows about the castle. On that score, half the children set to fetch and carry were likely his!
She hardly realized how hard she was squeezing the soap until it flew upward, out of her hands. Hitting the floor again, it skittered away.
Instinctively, Flora stepped forward, only to place her foot upon the bar as it bounced back from the edge of the tub.
The hound, thinking some game was afoot, leapt to its feet and bounded over. Knocked askew, Flora found herself toppled, flying forward over the rim of the copper bath and, with a great splash, landing on the hulking body within it.
Ragnall barely had time to brace himself as she launched through the air. Her knee missed his groin by a mouse’s puff and she knocked the breath from his chest, but it took only a moment for him to recover and appreciate the feel of her. With her clothing sodden, the fullness of her breasts was clearly visible through the clinging cambric of her bodice and she’d parted her legs naturally around his own, affording his thickness a comfortable resting place.
Bringing his hands to her hips, he made soothing noises. “Are ye alright, lass?”
Her lower lip, so full and pink, was trembling. Ripe for kissing. It would be a good place to start. He’d long ago learnt that the best way to unlock a woman’s ardor was to go gently. A teasing sort of seduction usually had the surest results, with the woman herself soon taking charge and showing what it was she wanted. There was never a need for a man to force himself on a woman. Considerate caresses did all the work for him.
As for this one, he’d a feeling there was a strong vein of passion, if he could but persuade her to let him be the recipient.
Next year, he’d seek another alliance, and beget the heir the clan needed. Until then, he could hardly be expected to remain celibate, and the spark in Florrie’s eyes was telling him that she was as drawn to him as he was to her.
A crease furrowing her brow, she was squirming to right herself and succeeding only in dislodging her gown, so that her sleeve dropped low, revealing one smooth, milk-white shoulder. Any more of that and she’d expose her breast completely.
His imagination was already palming its weight, sliding a hand over slippery wet skin, while his other, in the small of her back, drew her close. Her breast would fall within the warmth of his mouth, the taut peak of her nipple a perfect fit between his lips.
His arousal, already swollen hard, leapt at the thought.
“Stop that!”
Her exclamation brought him abruptly to his senses. “Why, lass, I’ve nae begun. Though it will only be a matter of lifting yer skirts to remedy that.”
“Yer “thing”.” She pushed against his chest. “Whatever ye’re doing with it, make it stop.”
A throaty laugh escaped him. “’Tis all yer doing, Florrie. I didnae tell ye tae fling yerself atop me, did I? Ma body is only responding to the feel o’ yers, and the more ye do wriggle, the more the effects are noticeable.”
She fell silent at that, her expression distrustful.
It occurred to him that she’d less experience with a man than he’d guessed at. He’d certainly have to take things slower. He made sure he looked into her eyes and not at the curve of what threatened to burst from her bodice. “Give me a kiss, Florrie, and then I’ll help ye tae yer feet. After that, if ye wish for more, find yer way tae ma chamber this evening. As I said before, I’ll do naught tae harm ye.”
He could see her giving the proposal consideration.
“A single kiss.” Her gaze lowered to his lips and, to his amusement, she worried at her own, running her tongue along their edge.
“Aye.” Ragnall swallowed back a moan as the lass shifted herself, inadvertently rubbing against that part of him that wanted a good deal more.
She eyed him warily again. “And ye swear nae tae grab me.”