Flight of the Raven by Judith Sterling

Author:Judith Sterling [Sterling, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval, Historical, Psychic, Marriage of Convenience, Scarred Hero/Heroine
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2016-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The bedchamber walls closed in on Emma as she stared at the platter of food. Apples from the orchard, cold duck, cheese, and fresh bread. To wash it down, there was ale. The supper might appeal…if her stomach stopped churning for two seconds together.

She could feel William’s gaze on her. Perhaps he was right, and she was running away. She’d never thought of herself as a sexual being. The curse saw to that. So she’d channeled her passion into helping others, unaware that same passion could lead to physical need.

Until William arrived, brandishing raw sensuality which dared her to explore her own.

Frowning, she turned toward the hearth, where eager flames licked firewood and kindling with equal ferocity. In front of the blaze sat a round, wooden tub lined with cloth. Twin brothers—blond, blue-eyed teens who were their mother’s pride and joy—filled the tub with hot water, while Tilda placed soap, washrag, and drying cloths on the ground beside it. The handmaiden sent her a sympathetic look over the rim of the tub, then returned to her work.

Too soon, the servants left the chamber, and the door shut behind them with a clunk. William bolted it, then crossed to the tub with long, leisurely steps.

Emma wiped her sweaty palms on her tunic and cleared her throat. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He ran his fingers over the white cloth that lined the tub’s edge. “I will be,” he answered. “Later.”

“Later,” she echoed.

He smiled. “Will you undress your husband, or shall I do it myself?”

Her heart fluttered. “You can do it.”

He nodded and reached to undo his leather belt. Promptly, she looked away, focusing instead on the window’s closed shutters. Her eyes followed the curving design carved into the oak boards.

“Shall I open the window?” she asked.

“’Tis cold out,” he replied. “Would you have me ill and in bed again?”

“Not ill,” she said, still looking away.

“But in your bed?”

She rolled her eyes. “I see your humor has returned.”

“How can you see anything with your back turned?” he countered.

“I’m waiting for you to get into the tub.”

“Ah, you dare not look the dragon in the eye.”

Despite her nerves, she giggled. “You call it a dragon?”

“When common names fail, one looks to legend.”

She snorted. “I suppose it breathes fire.”

“It will,” he said, his tone suddenly potent, “if you want it to.”

An awkward silence followed. She rolled up her sleeves with studied care. Behind her, the swish and rustle of clothing seemed ridiculously loud. At last, she heard the swash of bathwater.

“’Tis safe to turn around,” he said.

She turned…and stared.

Framed by the writhing fire and the water lapping at his ribs, he looked at once fiendish and unbearably handsome. She meant to walk forward, but her legs seemed to have lost their mobility.

William grinned. “Does your silence indicate approval or disfavor?”

She blinked and found her voice. “Neither.”

“What then?”

“Alarm.”

His dark eyes glittered. “Fear not. I promise to behave.”

“Behave? I’m afraid to ask your definition of the word.”

“’Tis similar to yours, I assure you.”

She forced herself to move forward. Her gaze locked onto his and refused to let go, even as she circled the tub.

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