Choosing the Highlander by Jessi Gage Page B

while she’d been resting and sitting with Aifric, being next to useless. Knowing what little she did about him, he liked to be clean and put together. He was putting off his ablutions in favor of taking care of her.
    “I suppose a bath would be welcome.” Maybe bathing a near stranger was customary in this time. Maybe it was considered an honor to be tended to by a member of the nobility. Deciding to treat the situation thusly and to trust Wilhelm’s sincerity, she uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her sides, an invitation.
    “That’s my lass.”
    His lass? Why did that make her heart stomach do a roll?
    He curled a strong finger in the ribbon lacing up the front of her overdress. The sleeveless straps kept slipping down over the threadbare linen of her borrowed shift, as if it had been fitted for someone broader through the shoulders than she. After loosening the ribbon, he brushed his knuckles up her arms, carefully avoiding the outside of her breasts on his way to those straps.
    How could a simple touch make tingles race up and down her entire body? It was like Wilhelm’s fingers closed a circuit when they came into contact with her and she sparked to life in new and interesting ways.
    Down went the straps. The overdress puddled at her feet, and even that sliding of fabric on fabric resonated in barely-there pops of sensation all over.
    Her eyes fluttered closed. She had thought herself moderately worldly, but this chaste touching was better than any sex she’d ever had. She wanted to stand there and revel in this feeling forever.
    The shift Anselm had brought her that morning had a large opening for the collar. It took but a brush of Wilhelm’s hands over her shoulders to send it rippling down to meet the dress on the floor.
    She was naked. When the cool air tightened her nipples, a moan escaped her lips.
    “Are you in pain, lass?” He whispered it near her ear. His breath was hot, as were the shivers that raced up and down her body.
    She should be cold, but Wilhelm radiated warmth, and he stood close. Very close. And he smelled of fields and grain and livestock and sweat, all things she had never associated with sexiness, until now.
    She wanted him to touch her. His palm to her upper arm. His lips to her jaw. His forehead to hers. Anything. “Pain? Hmm?”
    “Your feet.” His breath on the side of her neck did more to arouse her than anything Milt had ever done to her. “They were fair burned yester eve. Anselm told me he brought you a salve.”
    Oh. The fire. Heavens. She’d nearly been burned alive. It still seemed so surreal, but it had happened. The lingering discomfort in her feet proved it.
    Now she burned in a different way. She burned for more of Wilhelm.
    From his innocent caresses and the heat in his gaze, which was not even remotely innocent, she gathered he was willing to give her more. But he wouldn’t. He would remain true to his word. No sex in the monastery. His promise allowed her to enjoy this, enjoy him. It was just a bath.
    “Yes. The salve. He brought it.” She was babbling. She made herself shut up.
    Just then, she heard voices beyond the closed door.
    She made an X with her arms to hide her breasts.
    “Easy, lass.” His grip on her shoulders grounded her.
    If anyone came in, he would shield her body with his. She knew this instinctively, and the knowledge pleased her. Still, knowing they could be walked in on ruined the relaxation she’d begun to give in to.
    Glancing at the closed door, she said, “There’s no lock. Someone could come in.”
    “Aye. They could. But they willna. Terran is busy with Aifric. Anselm kens I’m tending to you. He also kens I would sooner fall on my own sword than compromise your virtue.”
    She blinked. Her virtue? Was he merely being chivalrous or did he actually think she was a virgin?
    He turned his back to her to bend over the ewer. His sculpted shoulders moved, muscles sliding under skin, as the sounds of water being wrung out met