It humbled him.
He wanted to flex his arms and pull her against his body, teach her how quickly she could heat his blood. His groin lurched hard, reminding him other parts of his body were also undamaged by the cold. He had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if she needed to tweak that as she had his toes.
Skena had let him kiss her before. That surprised him. From the expression on her lovely face, it had stunned her as well. He wanted to kiss her again, only he had a feeling she would put distance between them if he pushed her.
Finally, her fear of him shattered the strange spell. She feigned being unruffled. “Come, let me help you to the bench so I may dry your hair. I needs must get you to bed before you become too sleepy from the tansy or take a chill again.”
“You want me to go to bed, Skena?” He did not guise his stressing of the word bed, and that seemed to break her lethargy.
Skena took a step away, but stopped as her back hit the resistance of his arms. He did not want to release her, but realized he had to. He saw her exhale relief when he lowered his arms. He gave her credit—she did not run, but turned and slid her arm about his waist for him to lean against her. He could have reached the bench on his own, but this allowed him to pull her closer, holding her in a less threatening way. Step-by-step saw the deed accomplished, he thought.
Just as he was breaking out in a grin, he jumped when her hand touched his inflamed side. He cursed through gritted teeth. Disgusted with the increasing pain, he knew the side bothered him long past when it should not. In the beginning, he had hoped since he was aging it was just slow to heal. Obviously, there was some shred of fabric or metal still embedded deep in his flesh, and it was festering, the pain a thousand red-hot needles.
“Sorry, I did not mean to contrary your sore spot. Here, sit on the bench before the fire. I do not want you to take chill.”
Noel lowered himself onto the middle of the bench to keep it from toppling with him, instantly feeling the fire wash over his skin. The intense dry heat felt soothing. Skena picked up a woolen blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Only, with her standing in front of him, that put her breasts dead center of his eye level. He groaned.
“How do you feel, Sir Noel? If there is pain I can mix another tansy to ease your distress.”
Almost without thought, she reached up and pushed several stray curls back from his forehead. Clamping his teeth together, he struggled to rein in his rampant desire. The maddening woman simply did not understand what a temptation she presented.
“You are gritting your teeth again. Please, do not try to be strong. The worts can take the pain away—”
Clamping his hands around her waist he intended to set her back to save his sanity. Instead, he stilled. He was shocked by how thin her hips were. He could feel her bones clearly defined under the woolen kirtle. That brought a frown to him. Skena was a big woman, full-breasted, thus he would have thought she carried more weight. He grew concerned she was not eating enough for some reason. Was she sick?
“You are too skinny, Skena.” His big hands spanned her waist easily, too easily, as if he held a young girl. He flattened the material to outline her body.
Skena held rigid, then she strugggled to jerk away, clearly upset. “I thank you to keep your bloody opinions to yourself, Sir Noel.”
“Noel,” he reminded her.
“I am thinking you are too forward by half, Sir Noel. I did not ask you for your thoughts. Now let go, so I can dry your hair and then get you to bed.” She tried to shove his hands away.
Stubbornly, Noel held her hips fast. “Why are you so thin, Skena? Are you sick? Some sort of wasting sickness? Tell me.”
She remained silent.
Burning anguish pulsed through his blood, so blinding he could hardly think. The specter of something being wrong with Skena terrified him. He had just found this
He wanted to flex his arms and pull her against his body, teach her how quickly she could heat his blood. His groin lurched hard, reminding him other parts of his body were also undamaged by the cold. He had to bite his tongue to keep from asking if she needed to tweak that as she had his toes.
Skena had let him kiss her before. That surprised him. From the expression on her lovely face, it had stunned her as well. He wanted to kiss her again, only he had a feeling she would put distance between them if he pushed her.
Finally, her fear of him shattered the strange spell. She feigned being unruffled. “Come, let me help you to the bench so I may dry your hair. I needs must get you to bed before you become too sleepy from the tansy or take a chill again.”
“You want me to go to bed, Skena?” He did not guise his stressing of the word bed, and that seemed to break her lethargy.
Skena took a step away, but stopped as her back hit the resistance of his arms. He did not want to release her, but realized he had to. He saw her exhale relief when he lowered his arms. He gave her credit—she did not run, but turned and slid her arm about his waist for him to lean against her. He could have reached the bench on his own, but this allowed him to pull her closer, holding her in a less threatening way. Step-by-step saw the deed accomplished, he thought.
Just as he was breaking out in a grin, he jumped when her hand touched his inflamed side. He cursed through gritted teeth. Disgusted with the increasing pain, he knew the side bothered him long past when it should not. In the beginning, he had hoped since he was aging it was just slow to heal. Obviously, there was some shred of fabric or metal still embedded deep in his flesh, and it was festering, the pain a thousand red-hot needles.
“Sorry, I did not mean to contrary your sore spot. Here, sit on the bench before the fire. I do not want you to take chill.”
Noel lowered himself onto the middle of the bench to keep it from toppling with him, instantly feeling the fire wash over his skin. The intense dry heat felt soothing. Skena picked up a woolen blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Only, with her standing in front of him, that put her breasts dead center of his eye level. He groaned.
“How do you feel, Sir Noel? If there is pain I can mix another tansy to ease your distress.”
Almost without thought, she reached up and pushed several stray curls back from his forehead. Clamping his teeth together, he struggled to rein in his rampant desire. The maddening woman simply did not understand what a temptation she presented.
“You are gritting your teeth again. Please, do not try to be strong. The worts can take the pain away—”
Clamping his hands around her waist he intended to set her back to save his sanity. Instead, he stilled. He was shocked by how thin her hips were. He could feel her bones clearly defined under the woolen kirtle. That brought a frown to him. Skena was a big woman, full-breasted, thus he would have thought she carried more weight. He grew concerned she was not eating enough for some reason. Was she sick?
“You are too skinny, Skena.” His big hands spanned her waist easily, too easily, as if he held a young girl. He flattened the material to outline her body.
Skena held rigid, then she strugggled to jerk away, clearly upset. “I thank you to keep your bloody opinions to yourself, Sir Noel.”
“Noel,” he reminded her.
“I am thinking you are too forward by half, Sir Noel. I did not ask you for your thoughts. Now let go, so I can dry your hair and then get you to bed.” She tried to shove his hands away.
Stubbornly, Noel held her hips fast. “Why are you so thin, Skena? Are you sick? Some sort of wasting sickness? Tell me.”
She remained silent.
Burning anguish pulsed through his blood, so blinding he could hardly think. The specter of something being wrong with Skena terrified him. He had just found this
Similar Books
