area around her tub, instinctively searching for a weapon. Blast! She was completely vulnerable.
“Do you need something?” she asked. The water was starting to cool and she’d have to get out soon. Her finger pads were wrinkled.
“Ye will need help dressing?”
“Not from you.” Her heart pounded and she inhaled deeply. The very thought of him helping her from the bath, in all her nakedness, brought the heat of the tub to her cheeks. “See if you can find a maid to help me.”
“I am yer husband, lass.”
Dory gasped as he stepped around the screen. “What are you…? Leave here!” She flicked her foot toward him, splashing him with a volley of perfumed water. She splayed hands over her barely covered breasts. Half an inch and they’d be exposed.
He laughed as he dodged the wave. “Is that the best ye have, lass?”
“You wouldn’t be laughing if I still had my blade.” She lifted her dripping arm from the water. His eyes seemed to run the naked limb’s length all the way to her shoulder. The laughter faded to a much more intense look. What he failed to notice was the bar of soap in her fist.
Wham ! The block hit him in his chest. By the devil! The man didn’t even flinch, and she’d used all her might. Although she was in a sitting position and couldn’t put her weight into it. She should have aimed for his forehead.
She glanced around but there were no further impromptu weapons nearby. She crossed her arms and waited to see what he’d do next. “I’m not getting out until you leave.”
He chuckled. “I suppose no mermaid wants to show her tail.” He frowned at the wet mark on his shirt, turned, and clipped back into the room. “I will change and wait for ye in the hall.”
She let out a long exhale and shivered in the cool water. Keeping her eyes on the edge of the screen and her ears piqued for movement, she stood. Water sluiced down her body and she grabbed the bath sheet, tucking it around her. She picked up the lovely smelling soap. A rich house like this wouldn’t miss a single bar. As she bent over, the long bath sheet tangled around her foot at the same moment the other foot hit the slippery spot where the soap had hit before it bounced.
Before she could even scream both legs flew out from under her, and her arms flew up as she fell on her backside, colliding with the canvas screen, and knocked it flat. Hair flung far and wide, Dory lay staring up at the high, beamed ceiling.
“Are ye all right?” Ewan asked, his footfalls announcing his run to the rescue.
She yanked the damp sheet up to cover her breasts before his face came into view over her. Had he seen her naked? How could he not have seen her naked?
“I’m fine,” she answered, her head tipped in order to see him. She knew her face flamed but refused to acknowledge it. She’d learned early on while living with a rowdy group of men that she couldn’t act embarrassed unless she wanted to be teased forever. If she ignored it, often they couldn’t tell she blushed at all.
“Ye look very red. Are ye sure ye’re well?”
So much for that tactic. Dory pushed up, clinging to the sheet, and stood. “I… I am…”
Ewan’s shirt was off. Muscles sculpted his chest into a perfect figure of a man full of hard-earned strength. Broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips where his trews slipped low, well below his navel. The shadows and lines of scars along the tanned skin added to the display, changing him from a mere chiseled man into a…
“Warrior,” she whispered.
“Warrior?” he repeated. His forehead creased slightly.
“Never mind,” she said and waved one hand. She glanced down and realized the thin material had molded itself to her damp form. She walked away, plucking at the bath sheet, and hoped it wasn’t sticking to her generous backside. Her curves had been a constant nuisance as she tried to blend in with the crew.
“Is it time for supper?” she asked and snatched up one of the dresses Jane had
“Do you need something?” she asked. The water was starting to cool and she’d have to get out soon. Her finger pads were wrinkled.
“Ye will need help dressing?”
“Not from you.” Her heart pounded and she inhaled deeply. The very thought of him helping her from the bath, in all her nakedness, brought the heat of the tub to her cheeks. “See if you can find a maid to help me.”
“I am yer husband, lass.”
Dory gasped as he stepped around the screen. “What are you…? Leave here!” She flicked her foot toward him, splashing him with a volley of perfumed water. She splayed hands over her barely covered breasts. Half an inch and they’d be exposed.
He laughed as he dodged the wave. “Is that the best ye have, lass?”
“You wouldn’t be laughing if I still had my blade.” She lifted her dripping arm from the water. His eyes seemed to run the naked limb’s length all the way to her shoulder. The laughter faded to a much more intense look. What he failed to notice was the bar of soap in her fist.
Wham ! The block hit him in his chest. By the devil! The man didn’t even flinch, and she’d used all her might. Although she was in a sitting position and couldn’t put her weight into it. She should have aimed for his forehead.
She glanced around but there were no further impromptu weapons nearby. She crossed her arms and waited to see what he’d do next. “I’m not getting out until you leave.”
He chuckled. “I suppose no mermaid wants to show her tail.” He frowned at the wet mark on his shirt, turned, and clipped back into the room. “I will change and wait for ye in the hall.”
She let out a long exhale and shivered in the cool water. Keeping her eyes on the edge of the screen and her ears piqued for movement, she stood. Water sluiced down her body and she grabbed the bath sheet, tucking it around her. She picked up the lovely smelling soap. A rich house like this wouldn’t miss a single bar. As she bent over, the long bath sheet tangled around her foot at the same moment the other foot hit the slippery spot where the soap had hit before it bounced.
Before she could even scream both legs flew out from under her, and her arms flew up as she fell on her backside, colliding with the canvas screen, and knocked it flat. Hair flung far and wide, Dory lay staring up at the high, beamed ceiling.
“Are ye all right?” Ewan asked, his footfalls announcing his run to the rescue.
She yanked the damp sheet up to cover her breasts before his face came into view over her. Had he seen her naked? How could he not have seen her naked?
“I’m fine,” she answered, her head tipped in order to see him. She knew her face flamed but refused to acknowledge it. She’d learned early on while living with a rowdy group of men that she couldn’t act embarrassed unless she wanted to be teased forever. If she ignored it, often they couldn’t tell she blushed at all.
“Ye look very red. Are ye sure ye’re well?”
So much for that tactic. Dory pushed up, clinging to the sheet, and stood. “I… I am…”
Ewan’s shirt was off. Muscles sculpted his chest into a perfect figure of a man full of hard-earned strength. Broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips where his trews slipped low, well below his navel. The shadows and lines of scars along the tanned skin added to the display, changing him from a mere chiseled man into a…
“Warrior,” she whispered.
“Warrior?” he repeated. His forehead creased slightly.
“Never mind,” she said and waved one hand. She glanced down and realized the thin material had molded itself to her damp form. She walked away, plucking at the bath sheet, and hoped it wasn’t sticking to her generous backside. Her curves had been a constant nuisance as she tried to blend in with the crew.
“Is it time for supper?” she asked and snatched up one of the dresses Jane had
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