He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her then turned to the girl with the residue of a smile still on his lips.
Was it odd to call a man beautiful, glorious?
“Alas,” he said, letting his smile fade on the girl. “Kissin’ hands is known to spread the Black Death.” The tailor’s daughter gasped. She backed up and set her gaze on the dress now in Rose’s hands.
“But a quick embrace,” Tristan said, dragging her attention back to him, “is quite safe.”
The girl smiled and let Tristan close his arms around her. The tailor balked. Rose tried to keep from biting her lip along with her finger. She was sorry she made the deal for him. She wanted to take his hand and pull him away. But this was her idea, so she smiled and almost swallowed her tongue.
When he was finally done, he turned back to Rose, took her hand and left.
She had to admit, she liked the feel of his callused hand around hers. She liked the way he simply took it, as if he had every right to. As if she were his.
Oh, she feared she was in trouble. Would her father put aside that Tristan was a hired killer if she told him all the things he had done for her? Surely her father would understand how she could fall for Tristan.
They mounted their horses and left the town and traveled south along a sun-dappled river. It was a lovely day and Rose was thinking about how much she missed riding with Tristan when they entered a denser line of trees concealing the sun-splashed river.
Tristan rode to the bank and dismounted. “D’ye want a bath?” he asked her when she reined in and followed suit.
“A bath?” she asked. “In the river?”
“’Tis water.”
True enough. She wanted adventure. Bathing in a river was as adventurous as she’d ever been. And oh, but she wanted a bath.
“But I do not know how to swim.”
He gave her a slightly pitying look. “Ye can walk in and go as far as ye want to go. I will go in first and show ye. Aye?”
“What about fish and…things.”
“Nothin’ will go near ye, lass. Splash around if ye are unsure.” He gave her a more reassuring smile and then began removing his weapons and clothes.
She should not have kept looking. Not out here with the sun shining down on the carved muscles around his shoulders down to his tapered waist. She finally turned her head in the other direction completely when he unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the grass.
She waited until he entered the water then tore her filthy kirtle from her body and tossed it aside. She removed her hose, garters, and shoes but left her chemise on until she went into the water.
On the way in, she looked over at his clothes and saw his braies discarded in the grass. He was naked in the water. She blushed all the way to her roots. Should she stay away from him? How far? She wanted to take off her chemise and scrub it, but now she didn’t know what to do.
He smiled as if reading her thoughts.
“Dinna fear, Rose. I willna bite ye.”
She smiled, almost wishing he would.
Chapter Six
Tristan left the water and felt Rose’s eyes on him as he walked away toward his horse. He didn’t care that she looked. He liked it actually. He hoped she liked what she saw. He didn’t have scrawny legs. In fact, he thought he was in good physical condition.
He knew he was a fool for allowing himself to think of anything of a sexual nature with her. He needed to put some clothes on and keep his eyes off her. He had more clothes packed in a sack tied to his saddle. He wasn’t able to wear fresh clothes every day, but he tried to keep a set clean and ready to wear once a sennight. The clothes he’d been wearing would be laundered in Thornhill and ready to wear again in the next sennight.
He snapped a short tunic of dyed indigo in the air then fit it over his head. Next he stepped into a fresh pair of braies and woolen tights. He missed his younger days of wearing just his plaid on the glens of Invergarry while he tended sheep with his cousins. They’d been children, he, the oldest. Why was he thinking of those days now? It had been nice seeing Elias last year. He’d like to see everyone else. Mayhap when he was done with Callanach, he would go home for a little while.
He shook the dust out of his waist-long doublet and carried it, Rose’s new dress, and her dirty mantle back to the river.
She was still bathing, scrubbing her hair with her soap. He thought he heard her humming. Her eyes were closed. She was smiling.
Sitting on the rocks to pull on his boots, he wondered what she was thinking. She looked happy. Happy to be outside and not imprisoned behind castle walls most likely. He was glad she was enjoying herself. She’d been through much.
He left the rocks and bent to pick up his dirty clothes and watched her lean backward to rinse the soap from her hair. Straightening, he stared at her sunlit face gloriously presented, without the added beauty of her dark, cascading waves and thought she was the bonniest lass he’d ever seen.
She straightened and opened her eyes. Her gaze settled on him right away. Her smile widened and she waved. He waved back, trying desperately not to grow faint of heart over her. He’d never loved a lass. In battle, he had no weakness. But lately, he found himself thinking about settling down like Elias had with Lily. Like his sister had with her husband. So many of them. Was he next? Was Rose the lass
