His Enemy's Daughter (8 page)

Mayhap this misstep, done with no ill intentions by the boy, would be just the thing to bring the two together? Clearly, they had much in common and much they could learn from each other—if they were together.

Oh, there would be problems, but how better to solve them than together and, if there were two more kindred souls who needed to be together, he'd never seen them. Laughing once more, he strode off to his own duties, determined to keep his tongue firmly planted inside his mouth and to let the two sort this thing out between them.

God have mercy on all of them if they failed.

S
ybilla could not help the sigh that escaped as she sank into the steaming water. She'd bathed from a basin since the battle and had not washed her hair thoroughly because of the wound, but now she surrendered to the heat and the feeling of washing away all the grime and sweat of this week. Several extra buckets sat along the wall to be used if needed and she considered sitting here until the water went cold. But this day she did not have the time to waste sitting here, avoiding what was to come.

She shivered in spite of the heat of the water and the chamber, for a fire blazing in the hearth warmed the room. She listened to Gytha and Aldys walking around the tub, Aldys in charge of washing her and Gytha preparing the bed. The linens had been laundered and the bed made fresh for this night. Everything was ready for his arrival, as she would be shortly.

Sinking back into the water, she waited and listened for any sign of his approach. Since the meal was just
ending in the hall below, Sybilla thought she would still have time, more time, to accustom herself to the idea of what would happen between them this night. So, when he came, without the usual heavy footsteps or yelling, it surprised both her and her maids.

‘Lord Soren!' Aldys said sharply as she dropped the bucket with which she was rinsing Sybilla's hair. Her voice moved around the tub, taking what could only be considered a defensive stance between the door and the tub in the corner. ‘Gytha!' she said. The scurrying of feet meant Gytha joined Aldys between her and her lord and husband.

‘Lady Sybilla is not yet done, my lord,' Aldys explained.

The door slammed and Sybilla felt it rattle the tub. Her natural inclination was to stand, but instead, she sank lower beneath the water and the sides of the tub.

‘Done?' he asked, not stopping at the door. His voice grew closer and she sank lower. ‘Done what?'

‘Her bath, Lord Soren. The one you ordered for her,' Aldys said slowly as though speaking to a babe.

‘I ordered no bath for her, woman. The bath was for me.'

Sybilla did not know whether to be relieved or insulted in that moment. Was this a reprieve from him claiming his marital rights, then? No one moved, she certainly not, and the silence continued on for what seemed like for ever.

She heard him approach and heard the swift intake of his breath. Surely the shadows of the chamber's corner and the water did nothing to hide her flesh from his view. His shallow breathing spoke of arousal. Sybilla found
her own breathing just as shallow at the realisation that he saw her nakedness.

‘Finish your bath, lady,' he said in a husky voice. ‘I will call for more hot water and return for mine.'

‘Here?' she asked. ‘You want to bathe here?'

At first she was confused and then understanding struck her—he wished for privacy and this was the only private chamber in the keep. But if she thought he would explain, she was wrong.

‘I will return later.'

And with that simple declaration, he was gone, walking swiftly to the door and closing it with the same strong slam that he'd done when first he'd entered her chambers. She let a moment or two pass by and then she moved, shifting in the tub and grabbing hold of the sides.

‘Aldys, help me get out,' she said, already twisting her hair to rid it of most of the water. ‘Gytha, a drying cloth. Pray thee move quickly, I wish not to be caught unclothed again.'

‘The bath was for him?' Aldys asked as she guided Sybilla from the tub. ‘The boy never mentioned that.'

‘I do not fault young Raed for this misunderstanding. He must live in constant fear of being beaten and punished for every little misstep or error,' Gytha whispered. ‘I hear the new lord threatens him daily.'

Sybilla allowed their help and tried to ignore their chatter. They'd all assumed something that now seemed quite different than what Lord Soren's message had been. Did he mean only to use her chambers to bathe, then? Had this not been about consummating their marriage after all? Did he after all plan to set her aside?

Her women moved efficiently and quietly and soon she
was seated in front of the hearth, letting her hair dry in its heat. Aldys was careful with the strokes of the brush, avoiding the place where her scalp was torn and easing it gently through the tangles until it moved smoothly down its length. Sybilla found it soothing to her frayed nerves and the slow strokes relaxed the tension in her body. With her eyes closed, she could almost ignore the world around her and fall asleep.

The knock, softer than she could have imagined him capable of, woke her from her lethargy. She gathered the bedrobe closer around her and nodded to whichever of the women would notice. Aldys opened the door and allowed him entrance.

Soren had never felt out of place in a woman's bedchamber in his life until this moment. He'd been in many, from the most common to the noble-born, and knew his place in each—lover, confidante, companion in passion—until he crossed over the entranceway to Sybilla's room. Her maids watched him, scrutinising every step he took and every expression he made as he walked in, and closed the door behind him.

Though he would never have admitted it, he did not want to share this intimate vision of his…wife with the other men who stood guard in the corridor. And though he wanted to continue to blame her for all the sins of her father, the sight of her naked in that tub had undone all his resolve to remain aloof and unaffected by her. He'd made that oath to himself when he'd felt pity for her creeping into his heart, but he'd had no idea that the emotion he would have to battle with would be lust.

One glance at her creamy flesh, her pert, rose-tipped breasts and womanly form, and his body had hardened in
preparation for bedding her. Not that he'd arrived at her door with that intent, but years of it meaning exactly that had trained his body to ready itself…and to do it quickly, for there was no telling how much time he would have to enjoy the lady involved.

Now, she sat on a stool near the fire, unmoving but enticing him again with the curves of her body that pressed against the soft folds of her robe and shift. The Saxon garb she usually wore hid most of her figure from his sight, so seeing her without the layers and veiling tempted him more than even that first night and his first sight of her in the bed.

Soren wanted no witnesses to his bath, so he pushed the door open wider and nodded his head to them. Although the older one looked as though she would argue, wisely she kept her words to herself. The younger one had no such sense.

‘Lady Sybilla?' she asked. ‘Should we go?'

‘Aye, go,' he ordered, though he did not shout it as he wanted to.

For some reason, there was a feeling of calm in this chamber, even from the lady, and he did not wish to disturb it. 'Twas almost like he'd entered a refuge of some kind, a safe and restful place. Not what he would ever think a bedchamber to be and it did not make sense to him, but he accepted it and gave them another nod. He closed the door to find her standing.

‘Do you wish me to leave?' she asked. ‘I suspect you want the privacy this chamber offers and will give you that.' She took a step, an unsteady one, towards him and the door.

‘Nay,' he said, imagining what the men in the corridor
would see and think as the lady proceeded down past them. He shook his head before remembering that she could not see him. ‘Nay, there is no need.'

The lady stepped back and sat down once more, turning her back to him and giving the illusion of choosing not to look. Soren walked to the tub and dipped his fingers in the water. Warm, but not hot. He noticed the buckets along the wall and poured them in. Now steam rose from the surface and he smiled. It would feel wonderful to soak in this.

Unable to break his habit, he walked into the darker shadows in the corner of the room and peeled off all the layers of clothing he wore. With the worst of his injuries hidden by the darkness, Soren stepped into the tub and sank below the water's surface. He might have moaned and was not certain he had until her soft laughter echoed across the chamber to him.

Soft yet nervous laughter.

‘I confess—a hot bath is a weakness of mine, lady.'

Had he said too much? He did not expect to converse with her, but to ignore her completely while using her chamber and while she sat but yards away seemed ridiculous. Soren had always like being clean and baths with the help of a willing woman usually led to other pleasures, but since his injury a hot bath helped to ease the tightness in the skin now stretched tautly to cover the gaping wound he had suffered.

He opened his eye and watched as she lifted the brush she held and ran it through the length of her hair. Soren shifted in the water as his cock hardened and rose. He'd seen it loosened and lying around her shoulders in the bed and he'd seen it braided and arranged. Now, clean
and shiny from the brush strokes, he fought the urge to go and tangle his hands in it. When he moved too fast, trying to look away and focus on his…feet, the water sloshed over the side and on to the floor.

Then it was his curse that echoed across the room. Soren settled back in the water and cursed again, this time under his breath. He noticed she'd stopped in the middle of a movement and sat with her arms raised.

Mayhap this was not the good idea it seemed to be when he planned it? The boy must have mixed up the message he'd sent to Sybilla to inform her. What had Raed told her? Soren reached over the side and dipped his hand into the bowl of soft soap. Scooping some into his palm, first he lathered his hair and then spread more over his arms and chest, massaging the scars and rough patches of skin until they softened and eased.

‘What did the boy tell you earlier?' he asked as he reached for more.

At first she paused, then she stood and took a few steps in the direction of the tub…and him. Her eyes were open, the swelling that had closed them gone now, but she remained sightless. The lady held her hands out before her, trying to feel her way across the chamber. Uncertainty covered her face and soon she stopped and remained still.

‘He truly is not at fault, Lord Soren.' She clutched her hands together now, her hair swinging about her body and reaching all the way to her hips. ‘Pray thee do not beat him for this.'

She thought he would punish the boy over this? He felt the anger rising, but tamped it down. By judging him in this manner, she did nothing that others, even
his own men, did not do. Still…though he'd raged at the boy, he'd not touched him in anger even once. And in spite of that raging and in spite of the fact that Soren was convinced the boy had seen him clearly at the stream, Raed never seemed afraid of him. The boy never ran from him or failed to meet his gaze when speaking. Yet the lady thought he would suffer for this misstep.

‘What did the boy tell you?' Now he truly was curious about the message carried here.

‘He said you were sending a bath here.'

‘And?'

She shook her head. ‘That was all he said.'

Soren was beginning to see what had happened. ‘And you thought the bath was meant for you?'

‘Aye,' she said. Did she realise she blushed now? A becoming bit of pink crept into her cheeks, erasing the pallor of this last week and replacing it with something more attractive.

‘I do not mind sharing my bath with you, lady,' he said, purposely misunderstanding her.

Sharing a bath could be a pleasurable few hours while sharing bath water was usually a necessity. Filling a bath tub of this size took considerable work and would not be for only one person in most situations. It would be set up in the kitchen area near the hearth so the water did not need to be carried far from the fire. Having one here today was a luxury, an indulgence, one not to be repeated often.

‘Share your bath? Surely not,' she said, a bit too breathlessly for his own comfort.

An innocent who had no idea of the possibilities in pleasure between a man and a woman. Well, he did and
his body did, too, reacting to the thoughts racing through his mind now that involved this tub, hot water, soap and the woman standing before him. So much for his finding a refuge of peace and quiet. He needed to change the direction of this conversation and his thoughts before all his control was lost and he was pulling her into the tub or tumbling her onto the bed and taking the wife he was still not certain he wanted.

Soren understood that what had happened to her, with her, that first day and night, had given him a reprieve of a sort. Time to sort things out once the haze of his rage eased and time to avoid mistakes that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

One such mistake was taking her as wife.

He'd done it in the heat of battle, in spite of his words to Stephen to the contrary. Now, he knew that consummating their vows would have bound her to him, leaving no way out. Once he'd made that decision, though, the thoughts of her and the images that seemed to occupy his mind were all of the passionate kind. As she'd begun to heal a bit and come around, evidenced by her plucky resistance to his demands for the location of the manor rolls, Soren found her occupying his thoughts much more than he wanted to admit. Now she stood before him, dressed in only the thinnest of bedrobes, blushing and breathing in a manner that spoke of arousal…or at least interest.

‘So what did you think this bath meant, if not to share it with me? Did you think I was being kind, then?'

Would he never learn, or rather unlearn, his damned attraction to women? When would he realise that this was going in a dangerous direction? But years of flirting
with and enjoying the company of women, beautiful and plain, high-born and common, had taught him habits that were nigh impossible to forget. And even the recent scorn and fearful reactions of women to his new appearance had apparently not burned it out of him either. She stammered at first, then shook her head as though refusing to answer, but she closed her eyes, tilted her head up as though offering a prayer of some kind and then spoke.