She lowered herself and stopped opening locked drawers.
“Supper is on the table. You should have told my bride.”
May offered him a smile. “I have had too many days of idleness when supper was the only thing for me to spend my time on. It has been a delight to assist the mistress with getting to know Amber Hill.”
She dropped another curtsy to Bridget before leaving the still room.
“I didn’t mean to keep her from her meal.”
Curan was fully dressed now, but her memory recalled him vividly in naught but his shirt. His doublet was good English wool and lacked any trim. He hadn’t dispensed with his boots, either—they were still pulled up above his knees—but the leather was cleaned and recently oiled. They suited him, and she decided that he would most likely never wear the smaller slippers that were fashionable for gentlemen of the court.
“The cook hoists the blue flag when she is beginning to serve.” He walked across the still room and pointed out one of the windows. A flag was fluttering in the evening breeze. The horizon was scarlet and gold, the sun sinking below the mountains.
“You will learn to look for it near sunset.”
He reached into the window and pulled the shutters in. The thick wood covers blocked out the light, casting the still room into semidarkness. The dimness sent a tingle across her skin because her memory of what Curan did to her in the night was a passionate one. He grasped her hand and she jumped, far too aware of every touch he laid on her.
He clicked his tongue at her in reprimand.
“I do believe this might be the longest week of my life, waiting for your courses to be finished.” His face was cast into shadow and his voice was dark and husky while his hand clasped her warmly. His thumb found the center of her palm and rubbed it gently.
“Week?”
“Aye. I have come to understand that is the longest that a woman’s courses might last.” His thumb sent shivers down her spine and drew her nipples tight. “But some are shorter …”
He leaned down and placed a kiss against her lips. “Dare I hope you will come to me sooner … Bridget?”
His voice was soft, too soft. He was testing her. Tension knotted in her belly, and she squeezed her hand tightly against his to still his teasing thumb.
“I must be sure that I am clean …”
“Ah … of course.”
Silken and smooth, his voice didn’t betray anything, but she could feel him circling her like a hunter looking for the weakest spot on his prey.
“That is nothing to question me over, my lord. It is—”
“We are alone, Bridget.”
His voice rose, and she clearly heard its sharp expectation. He pulled her closer by their joined hands, twisting their forearms to bring her nearer.
“You shall use my name when we are in private.”
It was the command in his tone that tempted her to do as he said, but it was the flicker of need in his eyes. Lurking in the dark pools was something she had difficulty defining, but her heart seemed to understand. A desire to know you were treasured. It was hidden behind the stiff expression of the warrior, shoved down behind the mask he wore when being dutiful to every part of his life.
She knew that burden, too, always hearing the lingering echo of what was expected of her.
“As you say, Curan.”
He didn’t respond for a long moment, remaining frozen, but her heart accelerated and she became aware of each one of his fingers wrapped around her own. He suddenly drew in a deep breath.
“I suppose I must learn to ask you for what I wish in private.” He placed a soft kiss against her hand before allowing their hands to lower between them.
“We should attend supper. I suspect the clergy will refuse to bless the meal until you and I appear.”
The look in his eyes told her he could care less about the meal awaiting them. But the guilt that had assaulted her earlier resumed its tearing at her.
“We should not keep others from eating.”
“I suppose you are correct. You will have to teach me the appropriate manners for a household. I believe they are different from commanding an army.”
Bridget smiled and then laughed. There was no holding back her amusement. They were closer to the door now, and the fading daylight illuminated Curan’s expression. Back was that easy expression that he used with his sister. Her lips rose higher and parted to show her teeth.
“You do not smile enough, Bridget.”
“I do not? I do not believe I have seen a single one gracing your lips.” At least not one that wasn’t mocking.
He shrugged, his powerful shoulders relaxed but still looking so strong. He pulled her out into the hallway.
“A commander needs to be focused on what is happening around him, not finding things to make him smile.”
He maintained his grasp on her hand, a grasp that seemed such an intimate thing. Her mother had held her
