Page 25 of A Knight for Gwenllian

“I will go have a drink while you bathe,” Alexander announced once the bath was ready. The tub was taking up almost all the space anyway, so there was not much choice.

“Thank you.”

He left without a backward glance.

A short while later, alone in the main room downstairs, Alexander wondered what kind of mess he’d landed himself in. What on earth had possessed him to offer to accompany a lone woman on her way to Scotland? Worse, a woman he desired? There had been other, less dangerous ways to escape Colin and his blasted mistress. He could also have arranged an escort for her. How had he not guessed that his choice would end in disaster?

He slammed his cup on the wooden table. As he’d feared, all he’d been able to think of while he drank was Gwenllian, soaking in her bath upstairs, rubbing her creamy skin with the small cake of lavender soap the maid had given her. Damnation. The whole room would be smelling of it tonight, of her. How would he bear it?

After a while, he estimated that he had given her long enough. The water would be cold by now, anyway. She was most probably out of the tub. Heart pumping heavily, he made his way back up the stairs, readying himself for a night of torture.

His knock on the door was tentative. “Gwenllian, are you finished?”

“Yes.”

She sounded hesitant, so he wasn’t sure whether he should enter or not. The best way was simply to ask. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.” Another hesitation.

“Is everything all right?” No answer. Worry spiked through Alexander. What was happening in that room? Was she not alone? Was she in pain? But why? “I’m coming in. Make sure you’re decent.”

After a few heartbeats, long enough for her to cover herself if need be, he walked in through the door.

Gwenllian was sitting in the middle of the bed, alone, thank God. But, dressed only in her shift and hugging her knees, she looked like a little lost girl—and her cheeks were wet. Blood rushed to Alexander’s head, and he didn’t think. Slamming the door shut, he rushed to the bed and scooped her into his arms.

“Who hurt you?” he asked, feeling murderous. Who had entered the room while he was downstairs, making sure to stay out of the way? Oh, what a fool! What had he been thinking? He should have stayed outside the room, at the top of the stairs, anywhere where he could stop any ill-intentioned individual from making the most of the presence of such an unusual guest in the tavern. Was it the old man, John? Had he been playing the role of the innocent better than either of them could think, and bided his time until he could find Gwenllian alone?

“No one hurt me,” she said in a small voice.

“What happened then?” Something had, he was sure of it.

“I-I don’t know.”

What sort of an answer was that? He drew back and looked at her, eager to know what the problem was. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know what came over me. When I left the bath, I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. I just…” She shook her head, as if unable to explain what she wanted to say. “I miss my family; I don’t know what I’m doing by going all alone to Scotland or what I’m hoping to achieve. And that man by the river… Old John’s son, he almost— He⁠—”

“Hush. I know, but everything is all right. You will see your family soon. You miss them because you love them, which is a beautiful thing. And you are not alone going to Scotland; I’m here, and I’ll be with you all the way. As to the rest… It’s over.” He tightened his hold around her. “It’s the shock making you cry. It’s only normal, for what happened to you was shocking.”

It was not surprising she should feel the aftermath of the assault when she realized how close she’d come to being raped. He’d been wondering at her remarkable composure, but it was understandable that she would collapse once she was safe and able to relax.

“Were you hurt in any way?” he asked, realizing he had not asked her the question before. She’d told him she had stopped the man before anything could happen, but perhaps he had hit her? Thrown her to the ground? Had she seen a bruise on her body while she washed, was that what had brought on this crisis?

“No. I told you, I managed to stop him before he did more than take me in his arms.” With those words, she nestled further into his embrace, as if to chase the memory of the other man and erase his touch from her skin. Alexander was only too glad to offer her comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He should have punished the bastard for frightening her, for daring to touch her. His punishment had been too light by far.

“It’s all right. Just, please hold me. I need to be held.”

There was no choice but to do as she asked. The only problem was that she was almost naked, and in his lap, and that he was a man, a man who had spent the best part of the evening obsessing about her luscious body… The shift she was wearing was damp and provided very little protection. He could feel the softness of her curves pressing on his groin and the heat of her skin under his palms.

Alexander repressed a groan. This was even worse than it had been on the horse, but he could not let her go. She needed him.

“Better?” he asked once he felt that she had stopped trembling.

“Yes, thank you.”

He allowed himself another moment, then he gently lifted her from his lap and deposited her back onto the bed. “I will go tell Henry that they can take the tub away. We can’t keep it for the night, it’s taking up all the space.”