The Heather Moon by Susan King

Author:Susan King [Susan King]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Highland Warriors, Highlander, Highlanders, Historical Romance, Love Story, Medieval Romance, Romance, Scottish Highland, Warrior, Warriors
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2014-04-07T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

"And when he came to the ladyes chamber, He tirled at the pinn; The lady was true of her promise, Rose up and let him in."

—"Glasgerion"

William knocked on the outer door yet again. "Tamsin? Are you awake?" Hearing only silence, he knocked again, soft but persistent. Finally he opened the door and crossed the dark, silent library to knock on the door leading to the bedchamber. Silence. He pushed the unlatched door open, seeing only shadows and flickering firelight.

"Tamsin?" He stepped inside the darkened chamber.

He heard a shriek and a splash, and looked toward the fireplace. Tamsin sat in a wooden tub, dragging a cloth over her breasts to cover herself. She stared wide-eyed at him, dripping wet hair framing her stunned, heat-flushed face.

"Pray your pardon," he said, turning swiftly, but not before he saw, in the light of the hearth, the swells of her breasts, and the graceful gleam of her bare shoulders and arms. "I didna think you would be in the bath. I thought you would be resting."

"Well, I am bathing. Even gypsies bathe," she snapped. "I have been soaking the spirits out of my head with hot steam and a stern lecture to myself. Are you come to lecture me, too? Since you are my husband, I suppose you have a right to be here."

"Not according to our agreement," he said, turned full away.

"These are your rooms too. Once you told your mother that we were wed, there seemed to be no question but that you would share your lodgings with me." He heard a series of splashes.

"I will go." He stepped toward the door.

"Stay," she said. "I need you here."

"Stay?" He turned in surprise.

Her back was toward him now, and she raised her hands to work soap vigorously through her wet hair. "Aye. I must bathe and dress for yet another meal—and yet another vat of wine—and I need some help to ready myself."

"I will send Helen up to you, or the maidservant," he said.

She paused in her soaping, hands deep in foamy lather, and glanced over her shoulder. "I canna ask for help from them," she said. "You must be the one, if you want me gowned proper."

He looked askance at her, and raked a hand through his hair. "You want me to do your hair and lace your gown?"

"You are better able to do that than I am," she said, and bent her neck forward to scoop handfuls of water over her soapy hair. "I can bathe myself, but I canna dress quickly or easily in the fancy gear your sister left for me. I would be all night at the task, and still wouldna finish up looking proper." She slopped more water over her head. "And I dinna have the patience for it, just now."

Watching her, he suddenly understood. Her left hand, bared and soapy, worked as efficiently as the fingered right at washing her head; it moved like fingers inside a mitten, scooping water and massaging her hair.

But the more

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