Page 120 of A Thief Among Fae

A familiar laugh echoes from the pool. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Desmond calls out. When he pushes himself out of the water to sit on the edge, droplets roll down his chest and the scar that cuts across it. A soaked-through white bath sheet is firmly tucked around his waist and covers him down to his knees. Covers is a generous word.

My cheeks warm as I swerve to look away.

Only now do I notice his clothes, stacked in two neat piles on the farthest bench. “The innkeeper didn’t tell me you were here.” If I had known, I definitely would’ve found something else to do. I may’ve shared a bed and a horse with Desmond, but sharing a bath is a line I’m not willing to cross, body covered or not.

“I thought the heat might help me relax,” he replies. Out of the corner of my gaze, I see him glance at his unsheathed sword, within arm’s reach even though the steam is likely detrimental to it.

“I’ll come back when you’re finished.” I walk backward in a slow retreat.

“Wait.”

Hesitantly, I look at him.

He points at the pool, water dripping down his arm and along the crescent on his wrist. The movement curves the dark trail of hair that leads from his abdomen to underneath the sheet that hugs every inch of his skin, including the generous bulge between his thighs.

I freeze, feeling every bit like I should avert my gaze.

If Desmond notices me staring, he doesn’t betray a thing. “The sooner we’re both clean, the sooner I can train you. I won’t look while you change,” he says.

I shake my head. “You’re my employer. It wouldn’t feel right.” My stomach twists at just the thought of it. Seeing him wet and nearly naked already feels like a violation of something. Our vow, perhaps. It doesn’t matter that there wasn’t a word about nudity in it.

An amused smile dances across Desmond’s lips. Then he turns his back to me. For a moment, I stare at his scars. Knowing that he endured them to save his friend makes me admire him more than I already did.

“Employer. I’m surprised that’s still how you see me,” Desmond says.

“Why?”

He shrugs, his strong shoulders flexing. “You aren’t afraid to tell me when I’m wrong, and you sure as Danu don’t like to follow my orders. I thought it meant we were a little beyond employer and employee. Something like. . . friends.”

His disappointment thrums through me, and I hate it. There is nothing wrong with Desmond wanting to consider me as a friend, so why am I bothered? “We aren’t not friends,” I reply, then wince. Smooth, Cynthia.

The disappointment sharpens into sorrowful regret. I almost take back what I said, anything to take that pain away from him, but he changes the subject. “I’ll be honest, you don’t smell like sunlight anymore,” he says softly. “Neither did I, five minutes ago. Rinse off and come in.”

He’s right. I reek of sweat, my hair is matted, and my legs itch from insect bites. My clothes are dusted with dirt and while this would be normal back home, I’ve gotten used to being clean. I want this damn bath.

Besides, Desmond will think I’m an uptight prude if I retreat now.

My pulse quickens as I undress, more skin meeting the cool air with each piece of clothing I set on the bench. I can’t help but sneak looks at the firm planes of Desmond’s back and his broad shoulders. His warm-brown skin glistens from the steam, and I reach out as if I could trace patterns along his raised scars, even from here.

I stand completely nude, mere yards behind him, and have never felt more nervous in my life.

Focus, Cynthia.

“So, rinse first?” I ask, approaching a spigot. I’m trying hard to keep my anxiety out of my voice.

“That’s the idea.”

I twist the knob under the spigot and yelp as cold water spurts down my body.

He laughs. Asshole.

“You could’ve warned me that it’s downright freezing!”

“And where would the fun have been in that?” he teases.

My magic yanks the knob the other way so hard that the metal creaks. The water stops, and I grab my bath sheet, muttering under my breath.

“What was that?” Desmond asks. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking.