An Unforgettable Rogue by Annette Blair

was right, was I not?”
    Hawk jumped all of a foot, splashing them both, and feeling like an idiot. “How did you get in here?”
    “Through the door. How else? I thought you might need my help. I could scrub your back.” There she was, again, that innocent three year old, coaxing him down a forbidden hill with no more than that wide-eyed look.
    “Go away.”
    “Why?”
    The string of oaths Hawk released should have turned her face crimson and chased her from the room.
    She grinned. “If you did not want me here, you should have locked the door.”
    Hawk closed his eyes, because to see her was to desire her. “I did lock the door.”
    At her ripple of laughter, he opened them.
    “I know.” She allowed another salacious giggle to escape without a qualm. “The lock is broken. Everything in this house is.” She beamed as she approached the tub.
    At the glitter of purpose in her eyes, Hawk reared back.
    “Relax,” she said. “My intentions are honorable. I plan only to wash your hair, not to ravish you.”
    Hawk sighed, inwardly, remembering ravishment with a great deal of wistful fondness, wishing it were possible, wondering what would happen if…. “Be gentle with me,” he said, tired enough to allow the good-ship Alexandra to stay her course, however fraught the waters with peril.
    “Oh, I will.” Like warm, soft toffee, her words melted on her tongue, rich and honeyed with promise.
    It was the most glorious experience of his life, Hawk thought, as Alexandra worked his hair in soft soothing strokes, with lots of rich lather, turning the process into a seductive dance.
    With her talented soapy fingers, she stroked his neck, his shoulders, a way down his back, a longer way down his front, her slow, creamy, circling strokes teasing his senses and bringing him pleasure with just her touch.
    Almost as good as sex, Hawk mused, though after a year and a half, he had about forgotten what that was like. Almost.
    When he became aroused, Hawk waited with baited breath, to see if his erection would last, but it diminished, or he nodded off; it was difficult to tell which happened first.
    Ultimately, he must really have slept, because he awoke to the sound of clipping, except that he was still in the tub, afraid to move, lest he lose an ear. “Are you cutting my hair?”
    “I think so.”
    “I would rather you were certain,” he said. “How did you go from washing to trimming in one step?”
    “You must be exhausted, because you slept as if you had not slept in ages. I rinsed your hair and trimmed your beard a bit, but you never woke.”
    “I did not get much sleep last night.”
    “True. Bryceson?”
    He was almost afraid to respond. Her very tone made him skittish. “Alexandra?”
    “I rather prefer your hair like a lion’s mane, albeit a tamer lion. Would you mind if I only just trimmed that as well?”
    Hawk released the breath he had been holding. “Fine.”
    “The longer length fits with your beard, I think, and makes you look wickedly piratical. I expect you are too sleepy to plunder and pillage?”
    Hawk bit back a new flurry of mirth. “I am sleepy. I do not think I have felt this comfortable or this relaxed since— Very.”
    “Come, let me help you step from the tub, so I can help dry—”
    “No, I will step out and dry myself off, after you return to your bedchamber.”
    “But Bryce—”
    Hawk pointed toward the door. “Out.”
    “But we were children together. We swam together. Your scars cannot be that bad.”
    “They are.”
    Like a heartbroken pup, Alexandra turned away.
    Hawk caught her hand to stop her as she passed. “Lexy, you have seen enough of my ugliness. Leave me some dignity. Please.”
    Alex sighed and grudgingly recovered her spirits. “Well, if you express it that way, what choice do I have?” She shut the door quietly as she left, and Hawk breathed a heavy sigh.
    Never having owned a nightshirt in his life, he prudently donned his dressing gown, thinking that