she said. “’Tis safe to turn now.”
She appeared small and vulnerable in the bed, under a thick layer of blankets. At the moment, it was difficult to think of her as a Scot. Or even as the woman who had walked so proudly through the hostile villagers in St. Oln.
She was just a woman now, frightened and vulnerable.
Against all rational thought, he wanted to gather her up in his arms to reassure and comfort her.
Instead, he picked up the clothing next to the bed and spread it out before the fire to dry. He hoped the raiders below stairs did not decide to pursue the woman they knew was here, rather than go on their intended raid.
Still, Lady Elizabeth of York had been correct when she’d written that her daughter was a hearty lass. Lady Cristiane had lost both her mother and father in a short span of time. Her village had showed naught but hostility toward her when she’d left, and she’d been forced into the company of three strange, foreign men who had carried her far away from all that she’d ever known. She was holding up remarkably well.
Adam walked to the other side of the room and sat down with his back against the door. He lay his sword on the floor next to him and tried to relax. The forced intimacy they’d shared during the journey so far had been difficult. Sharing a horse, holding her body close to his during the long daylight hours, breathing in her fresh, womanly scent, having his nose and chin constantly caressed by wisps of her hair…Adam hadn’t thought it could get any worse.
Yet as he sat gazing at her clothing, Adam knew that every stitch she possessed was drying by the fire. And he wished the thought hadn’t occurred to him. The last thing he wanted was to begin imagining beautiful Cristiane Mac Dhiubh naked.
Sometime during the night, Cristiane heard a light tap at the door. ’Twas Raynauld, informing Adam that all was quiet down below, and the raiders had either left or were passed out from drink in the great room of the inn.
Adam must have been awake all night, she thought as she watched him pick up his saddle pack. He stayed as quiet as possible, taking a blanket from the pack and spreading it out near the fire.
He added a few bits of wood, then stood and untied the leather laces of his hauberk. He pulled it over his head, keeping only his light linen shirt on. Then Lord Bitterlee wrapped himself in his blanket and settled down to sleep.
He’d looked weary. And with good reason, Cristiane thought. He’d stayed on guard most of the night, sitting by the door with his legs outstretched. His hair was disheveled and there was a dark shadow of beard on his jaw. He was as handsome a man as she’d ever seen, even tousled as he was.
Cristiane’s heart fluttered. She’d been completely defenseless—overcome by the stark memories of her father’s death—when Lord Bitterlee had rescued her and carried her to safety. Then he’d kept a vigil all night to see that she stayed safe.
Not only was he heroic, he was also a man of honor. He could easily have taken advantage of her vulnerable state. But he hadn’t. He had calmed and reassured her when she was caught deep in the memories of the past, then he’d gallantly turned his back so that she could undress. What other man would have done so much for her?
She knew so little of men. Her father had kept her far removed from his warriors, and the people of St. Oln had had no fondness for her, so she’d spent little time among them. She did know, however, that ’twas the rare warrior who had the patience to deal with her so carefully. Most would likely have stashed her in this little room and returned to the thick of battle.
She preferred Adam’s way.
’Twas difficult to think of him as Lord Bitterlee now. The sound of his title was too imposing, too harsh. Nay, Adam was a kind and considerate man, a chivalrous knight, a noble warrior. Whether she would ever be impertinent enough to call him Adam, she did not know. But in her mind, he would never be the lord of Bitterlee to her again.
Chapter Four
It had to be close to dawn, by the sound of the birdsong outside. Adam didn’t think it was the birds that woke him, but soft whispery sounds in the room itself. He was too tired to move, and his leg was stiff and aching. He managed to open one eye, however, and caught sight of Cristiane Mac Dhiubh.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her.
She had gathered up her clothes and was in the process of dressing, but she had not gotten far enough to impede his view of her soft, feminine curves.
She was lovely. Her hair cascaded in gentle curls over her shoulders, teasing the naked tips of her breasts, but leaving enough bare flesh for Adam to appreciate their soft fullness. Her legs were well-shaped and strong, and the feminine V where they met was shielded by an enticing russet shadow.
It made him ache to look at her this way, to know what lay concealed under her ugly brown kirtle.
As he watched, she pulled on a ragged underkirtle that reached only her hipbones, leaving that most intriguing part of her delightfully, seductively bare. The laces were open, so most of her torso was exposed, as well. He must have groaned inadvertently, for she gasped and moved to cover herself.
Slowly, he dragged his eyes up the length of her gloriously blushing body and caught her own heavy-lidded gaze. He had no doubt that she was as aroused as he, but painfully embarrassed by her nakedness. Neither the tattered underkirtle nor her arms managed to cover her sufficiently.
“Your pardon, my lady,” he said as he stood. His grimace was due only in part to the stiffness of his wounded leg. “I will leave you to your privacy.”
Cristiane stood rooted to the floor as Adam retreated through the door, then she threw on her clothes as fast as she could. She was not going to be caught unawares again!
Yet as she tied the laces of her kirtle, she realized that she had not disliked having Adam look at her. In reality, she had enjoyed the look of appreciation in his eyes. Still, it was terribly embarrassing to have her most private parts exposed to his view.
She wondered if it would have seemed so embarrassing if Adam had also been unclothed. He was broad shouldered and lean hipped, though he had the powerful legs of a horseman. She wondered how ’twould feel to be naked with a man. Unconsciously, Cristiane moistened her lips and speculated that this was one of the pleasures husbands and wives shared. She knew so little of such things. Her parents had been respectful of each other, but Cristiane had never witnessed any special intimacy between them.
Voices in the inn yard below distracted her from these intriguing thoughts, and Cristiane quickly finished lacing her kirtle. She rolled up Adam’s blanket and stuffed it into his saddle pack, then opened the door to leave.
She drew up short when she considered what had happened on the stair the previous night. Would it be safe to go downstairs? Unwilling to suffer a repeat of that incident, she turned back and sat down on the bed to wait for Adam to return. Then she heard footsteps approaching.
“Lady Cristiane.”
“Aye, Sir Raynauld,” she said, sagging with relief as she recognized the friendly voice. She opened the door to Adam’s knight and he took the pack from her. She could not help but wonder where Adam was.
“The landlord’s wife has prepared a meal for us,”
