"Oh." Imagining him disrobing in front of her, renewed heat flamed over Anna's face. She spun around to face the door. "Of course not. Shall I go outside?"
"Nay, that will suffice. The rain is pouring down."
Saints! Her whole body feeling scorched, she listened to the rattle of his belt buckle and the slide of cloth against skin. What would he look like naked? She was certain she couldn't imagine such a wickedly carnal sight. Why was she so mortified? He'd touched her in profoundly intimate ways last night. 'Haps it was because she had not touched him… he hadn't let her. She knew little about his body beyond how it felt to ride with him on the horse.
She recalled how firm and lean he was… all over, from his arms to his waist. The muscles of his upper arms were very well developed and strong. She craved wrapping herself around him and touching him… kissing him anywhere she wished, brushing her lips down his sculpted chest.
"Finished," he said, startling her out of her sinful daydream. Good heavens! How scandalous she was. She was supposed to be a well-mannered lady, not a wanton wench craving a man's attention.
Hesitantly, she turned to find him fully clothed and hanging the wet plaid and shirt on a chair by the fire. So as not to devour him with her eyes, she fixed her gaze on the pot of bubbling stew, then stirred it. But he had captured her awareness. She caught a whiff of the lavender scent of his fresh clothes and even the hint of rain on his skin.
"Smells delicious," he murmured.
Surprised, she lifted her gaze to find him staring at the stew. But she could say the same thing about him—that he smelled delicious—but kept her lips sealed tight.
"You impress me greatly, Anna."
Her heartbeat quickened and she craved looking deep into his eyes, drowning in the blue darkness, but forced herself not to. "I thank you but 'twas not too difficult. You'd said you were going to bring back game for a stew, so I thought I'd help in the only way I knew how. I found peat stacked in the corner, and a flint in the cupboard. Dunn did indeed help me dig out the parsnips and turnips. I carried water in the bucket." Realizing she was anxiously prattling off a list, she snapped her mouth closed and glanced at him.
He searched her face for a long moment. The warm but curious expression in his eyes arrested her. "Had you ever done any of that before?" he asked. "You are a lady, after all."
'Twas true, many people thought highborn ladies couldn't take care of themselves. Most did need a crew of servants, but she was no longer like the average lady. "Since… leaving, I've learned a great many things."
"I admire your fortitude." His voice was a low, sensual rumble that spurred her woman's instincts. She could scarce breathe. Did he have to talk so seductively?
"I thank you." She avoided his gaze, praying for the strength to resist him. But if he should try to kiss her… or more… she knew she couldn't refuse him. She shouldn't allow herself such wayward and immoral thoughts about him. "As for the stew," she said to distract herself, "don't be too impressed until you taste it. I did find a wee bit of salt in the cupboard. I hope that will help the flavor."
"Can I ask you a question?" he said.
Anxiety clutched at her stomach yet again. "Aye."
"Why did you not tell me about Blackburn earlier? 'Haps last night?"
Heat and shame consumed her for she knew she should have told him. 'Twas clear to her what he meant about last night… in the tavern bedchamber, after he'd asked her to marry him but before he'd touched her, before they had become so intimate. But at least it hadn't gone too far.
She stared down at her broken nails and then bit one before she realized what she was doing. Forcing herself to stop, she clutched her hands together.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't wish to upset you, but I need to know why you didn't confide in me."
"Nay. I'm the one who is sorry. I wanted to tell you, but could not get the words out. I feared you would be angry with me."
"Why should I be?" The look of sincere confusion on his face soothed her to an extent. He was good to the core… too good for her since she'd kept the truth from him beyond the time when he deserved it.
"Not all people are as understanding as you are," she said. "Most would tell me to return to my husband. But I don't claim him as such." A shiver of revulsion coursed through her body.
"Of course not. You were forced into it," he grumbled. "'Tis not a legal marriage."
"I hope you're right."
"I'll take it before the king if I must," he said in a hard tone. "I used to do work for him."
"In truth?" She searched his face. Why was he willing to go to such effort? Did he wish to marry her that badly himself? How she wished he could be successful in proving her marriage a farce. She would then be free to marry Neacal, if he still wanted her… and if his clan accepted her.
"Of course. Is Blackburn a member of the nobility?"
"Nay, he is only a chief who forced his way into that position. My late husband had an heir, a nephew of sixteen summers, who was denied the role of chief. Blackburn threatened to kill him if he didn't step aside."
"Why did the clan allow it?" Neacal asked, unable to believe how the bastard had run rough-shod over the entire clan.
