The McKinnon (11 page)

“My thanks, but that will be sufficient,” Nic said then courtly inclined his head.

Once inside the room, Nic placed Morgan on the bed. She tried to protest, but he placed a finger to her lips in a signal to be silent.

“Morgan, quickly roll over and face the wall,” he spoke softly hearing the footfall of someone coming.

She obeyed just as the door opened. It was the boy carrying heated water from the kitchen. He did not try to hide his excitement. Few knights came and went in their part of the woods, and those who did were not like this one. Most all the knights who he saw were poor. He knew this knight was rich and was in high favor of the King. He had seen the royal seal embossed on his horse’s bridle. Only a champion of the King had the royal seal to boast such accomplishments. He could not wait to tell his friends.

“Will your squire be all right, my Lord? He is not going to die is he? I could take his place should you find yourself in need of a new squire. I’m reaching my fifteenth year next month and not yet married, so I don’t have a nagging wife to keep me here.”

Nic had a hard time keeping a straight face. “No, he will be fine, I think. However, I will consider your offer for future reference. As to my man there, just a bath and some rest are all he will need.”

The boy cupped his hand over the right side of his mouth and whispered. “Perhaps, my Lord, he needs a few riding lessons, too?”

Nic laughed, the warm sound of it resonating through the small room and sliding over Morgan’s skin. “You just might be right about those lessons, young man,” Nic said then clasped the teenager on the shoulder.  

Morgan did not take offense. What could she say? He was right. A few riding lessons were in order. Perhaps Nic would train her if she asked him nicely. He was not a total brute. In fact, so far he was far from it. Other than the tirade in the woods, which she fully understood, he actually was civil.

“Here is your coin and thank you for your services. You've done well. Now, off with you to tend the animals. We have ridden them hard today,” Nic said then began to close the door behind the young man.

“I will be back for the used water in just a bit, my lord.”

When the door was closed tightly, Morgan turned to face her traveling companion. Her eyes slid past Nic to look longingly at the hot bathwater. Nic noticed and did not blame her. The steaming water was like a siren, but her well being came first.

“Morgan, you must bathe quickly. I will go get us food. Do not open this door for anyone except me. Understand?”

Morgan answered him with a nod.

“Five minutes, no more, that is all the time you have. I will be back shortly.”

He turned on his heels and left the room.

Morgan bolted the door. Peeled off her sopping clothes and having only five minutes, she did not bother to wring then out before laying them by the fire to dry.

Sighing as she eased into the tub, the warm water felt heavenly. She could not remember the last hot bath like this she had the luxury of taking. Five minutes was not enough, but would have to do and was five more minutes than she had experienced in the last seven years.

As she quickly bathed, she took in her surroundings. The inn was clean and seemed well run. The room consisted of meager furnishings of a country inn. They served the purpose and Morgan was certainly not going to complain. Compared to her tower room, this was an abundance of luxury.

Placed close to the fire were two chairs and a table at which two could comfortably eat. There was a single stool that had seen better days. The bed, Morgan noticed was narrow. With Nic’s size, it would be a tight fit for him much less both of them. She was finding the thought of sleeping with him in the close confines of the room discomforting. Toweling off when the knock came, Morgan had mistimed her bath by just a half of a minute.

“Nic?” Morgan softly questioned through the door.

“Yes.”

“Give me a minute,” she whispered. “I need to cover myself.”

Nic sensed her movements in the room, and for a moment he indulged his imagination as his mind took him to a place he knew better than to go. He imagined her as she was at the pool: naked, beautiful, and his.

Morgan quickly gathered the bed cover and wrapped herself in it, then unbolted the door and stood behind it to let him enter.

He entered, not sure what he would find then quickly surveyed the room. Her clothes were neatly spread by the fire to dry, the tub's water was now used. What was even more evident was Morgan wrapped only in a sheet.

Damn!
And that was about all the coherent thought he could muster.

He was not some young pup who could not control his urges, but she was making it difficult the longer he was around her. He dared not linger, not at the moment, especially knowing she was clean and naked under that wrapping. He needed to allow her to dress without his prying eyes.

“I have found you some dry clothes.” He placed them in the chair and continued. “I am going back down to see if there is any food I can scrounge. If not, I will go to the horses for some of our rations. Either way, I'll not be long. Bolt the door behind me.”

“Thank you for the bath. I know you did not have to do that for me.” She was very genuine recognizing that as a squire, Nic did not have to see to that small luxury for her.

His proud smile surprised her as their eyes held each other for a brief second. “Yes, Morgan, I did. And, I did so gladly, but you are welcome all the same.”

Making quick work of binding her breasts and dressing in the clothes Nic had so thoughtfully found, she recognized his steps coming up the stairs.

“It’s me.” His deep voice eased through the door.

She unbolted then opened the door. He entered carrying a tray of food that smelled delicious. She took the tray then set it down on the table as she deeply breathed in the hearty aroma. As she rearranged the food for them and poured the wine, she heard the rustle of clothing behind her, and the soggy flop of them hitting the floor.

Was he undressing? Of course, you ninny, she mentally scolded herself. He is not letting the opportunity of a warm bath pass by him any more than you would have let it by pass you.

She realized that he thought she was a boy so of course he would be undressing.

Morgan heard his involuntary sigh escape his lips, and she knew he had silently slipped into the warm water. She wondered as his squire how she could help him with his personal needs. He answered that question almost before the thought was completely formed.

“Morgan, come here and wash my hair, please.”

She was behind him, so he could not see her face. He heard rather than saw her back into the table.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she whispered then touched the decanter she had nearly knocked over in her retreat.

“Come now, surely you knew you would have to aid me with my personal needs? And right now, I need you to wash the grime out of my hair. Hurry, the water will cool soon, and I have had enough cold water on me for one day.” His command was not abrupt, but Morgan was left in little doubt that she was to follow that order.

Tossing caution to the wind, Morgan placed her hands on his head. It was just hair she told herself.

Kneeling at the end of the tub, she gently she began to massage his scalp with the soap he'd handed her. To counter the way she was feeling she forced herself to think about the past, not what she was doing.

After the death of her father she had never been close to a man except her uncle, and that situation wasn't pleasant. Until three days ago, when she had taken the spill off the horse, her uncle was the only person to touch her. Morgan tightly closed her eyes against those memories.

She had slept two nights in a row next to this man, rode pressed to him for hours on a horse, and was now washing his hair while he sat naked in this tub. Her initial reaction of uncertainty had given way to curiosity, and she allowed herself to explore further. He was naked in a bathtub, and his sword was across the room. What could he possibly do?

His thick and silky hair rolled through her fingers like the beautifully soft satin ribbons she remembered having as a child. Rubbing his temples and smoothing his brow from the center of his forehead moving outward released a flood of memories that quickly filled her mind, even though these memories she had long buried. Morgan saw her mother doing this to her father while he sat with his eyes closed in his great chair before the fire. Nic was doing much the same. 

"My mum used to do this for my father," she said absently as she moved onto the crown of his head and ran her short nails gently against his scalp. A groan was the byproduct. Gasping, she quickly tried to pull her hands away, but he grabbed her wrists to stop her retreat, heedless of the water he splashed on the floor in the process.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she apologized.

“You did not hurt me, Morgan. That was a moan of contentment. It seems to be soothing my headache.”

His grip loosened on her and he leaned his head back against the rim of the tub. It was far too small for a man of his enormous size. She continued to soap his hair, massaging his scalp. Then when clean, she rinsed it with water left by the groom for just such a purpose. Nic leaned forward in the small tub, slopping water on the floor and exposing his broad back for Morgan’s inspection. She assumed that he wanted her to wash his back, too.

His skin was smooth, tan, and free of any major scares. The few she did see stood out in sharp, white contrast to the tan of the rest of his back. They were scars from many battles, but none threatening even to her untrained eye.

"You've been lucky," she commented.

"So, far, yes." Nic understood what she was saying.

She could see through the murky water a whiter line of skin marking where his pants hugged and covered his hips guarding them from the sun. As she continued her ministrations, her body was responding. Her inexperience kept her from realizing the warning signs in him or herself as she continued to touch him out of curiosity as much as necessity.

Nic felt the butterfly touches of her inexperienced hands. He felt the heat coming off her body as she leaned in close to do his bidding. He leaned back in the tub, and rested his arms on the narrow rim then he closed his eyes. His legs were so long he had to pull his knees up to fit into the tub. It was not enough to hide him from her view.

She was beautiful and he wanted her. He wanted to make love to her more than any other woman he had ever taken to his bed. He purposely allowed her to look at him in his state of full arousal, wanting her to see what she did for him. It would come in handy down the line. She was not going to be pleased he knew she was a duchess and had kept that knowledge from her.

"Oh, now, that's just rude," she gasped and tried to advert her eyes, yet curious all the same, as she tossed the wash cloth over him. It only served to become a tent pole.

Nic softly laughed. "Rude or not, there you have it, a little barracks for all my soldiers."

Morgan shook her head. "You're impossible, Nic."

Fully aware of her needs as a woman, he could make love to her in this roadside inn. Her seduction would be child’s play.

However, it was too dangerous. So, carnal needs would have to wait. His top priority was getting her to safety and having sex with her would come later. Yet he was not made of stone and knew he had to salvage this quickly.

“Never mind me," he said casually with the wave of his hand. "You know how it is sometimes for us men when we fantasizes about beautiful women. As you can see, the physical effects can be hard to disguise. Now, hurry lad and get me a cloth to dry. The bath has grown cold even if I have not.” Nic laughed at his pun knowing he was far from cold for this woman.

She felt quick pangs of jealously rise at the thought of him fantasizing about another woman.

Trying to act as unaffected as possible, she quipped before thinking. "Well, sir, might I suggest you do your fantasizing in private. I have no wish to see that thing pointing the way to the northern star.” Morgan pointed.

Nic laughed in delight and relief. “Well put, Morgan. Very well put.”

Morgan had no right to be angry that he was thinking of his woman. Undoubtedly, she would be tiny, blond, and full breasted; no feminine characteristics Morgan could ever claim to have in her possession. Her feelings of inadequacy filtered to the surface, having never really cared before that she had no curves.

She quickly scrambled to her feet to fetch Nic a towel. Rising in one swift movement from the tub, he towered above her with the water sliding off his lethal body.

With towel in hand, she watched in fascination as a single drop made a slow and treacherous journey from his shoulder to his hip. Embarrassed at her own behavior, Morgan avoided his gaze as he took the towel from her just before she turned back to the fire.

Laying his clothes beside hers to dry, Morgan turned her attention to the table as if it were the most interesting item in the world. Nic was behind her. She could feel him; sense him yet, he had not touched her. She almost wished he would.

He reached out his hand to touch her, but then he smartly pulled back. Thank goodness his better judgment had taken over. Had he touched her, Nic would not have stopped with a kiss and that would have been a Pandora's Box.

"Where are your clothes," Morgan asked as Nic made his way to the table and sat down opposite her.

“I was not able to find a set of dry clothes that fit. I'll just stay as I am until the fire has dried my own.”

He had no wish to put the sopping garments back on, not when he had just begun to feel human again. He would redress in the morning and pray he did not have to fight naked with an enemy.

Nodding and keeping her eyes averted, she had suspicion that her feeling would show in her face if she looked. Her desire to inspect his unclothed body was strong with the curiosity and it was killing her. He knew it. Somehow, it stroked his male pride to know she wanted to look at him.

She was very quiet again, and Nic could guess the origins.