The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(82)

She didn’t appear anxious to talk, which was fine by him. He waited by a tree, pretending not to watch, while she went through her morning ablutions.

After tidying her hair with a damp comb and cleaning her teeth with powder from a vial that she rubbed on a small square of linen, she dipped a fresh linen cloth in the river. She’d brought a sliver of soap, which she rubbed on the cloth, and then proceeded to wash her face, chest, hands, and arms.

It was one of the most erotic sights he’d ever beheld.

When she dipped the cloth between her br**sts, it was too much. He turned away, furious that something so mundane could arouse him. But with the sun streaming through the trees, catching the golden strands of hair, and the rivulets of water cascading down her face and chest, she looked beautiful, sweet, and utterly entrancing. A ray of light in the darkness. And all he could think about was how close he’d come to heaven—and how badly he wanted to touch her again.

God, had he learned nothing from what happened last night?

He focused on their surroundings with almost exaggerated intensity, keening his senses toward anything out of the ordinary.

But his gaze drifted back. She’d finished and walked toward him, the sun illuminating her from behind. He sucked in his breath. But that didn’t prevent him from getting a mind-numbing whiff of her sweet feminine fragrance: freshly washed skin tinged with rose petals.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said tightly.

“You look as if you are in pain.” Her eyes flew to his. “Is it your face?” She reached up to cup his bruised chin. Every muscle in his body jumped at the contact. “Did my foolish brother break something?” Jesus, her hands were soft. Velvety fingers caressed the hard line of his flexed jaw. “Look at all those bruises. It must hurt.” Her thumb slid toward his mouth. “Your lip is split.”

It did hurt. The innocently erotic gesture sent a rush of blood low in his groin and fired his blood with heat. He had to force himself not to take her finger in his mouth and suck.

She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or how hard it was for him to keep his hands off her.

She gazed up at him with wide-eyed concern. A little kitten in the jaws of a wolf. “Does it hurt very badly?”

“It’s not my face.” He gave her a hot look that told her exactly the source of his pain. He was as hard as a spike.

A soft pink stained her cheeks. If that wasn’t bad enough, she proceeded to nibble on her soft bottom lip. “Oh. I didn’t realize—”

“We should get back. Your brother will wish to leave soon.”

She nodded, and he thought he saw her shiver. “I shall not be sad to leave this place.”

He couldn’t stop himself. He tipped her chin, looking deep into her big, blue eyes. “You are all right?”

She tried to smile, but her mouth wobbled. “Nay, but I will manage.”

He dropped his hand; his mouth fell in a straight line. “What happened last night will not be repeated.”

Her delicately arched brows furrowed. “How can you be so certain?”

“Because I won’t let it.”

Her eyes searched his face, and then widened with understanding. “Good God, that’s why you are upset. You blame yourself for what happened. But that’s ridiculous. You couldn’t have known—”

“Yes, I should have. Had I not been so distracted, I would have.”

“So I’m to blame?”

“Of course not.”

“You aren’t perfect, Arthur. You’re human; you make mistakes.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw clenching so tightly his teeth hurt.

“Is that what you think?” she asked softly. “Have your senses never failed you before?”

Once. He pushed aside the memory. “We should get back.”

He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm to stop him. “Won’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Does it have something to do with your father?”

He glanced at her sharply. How in Hades had she figured that out?

She read his surprise. “When you spoke of his death before, I sensed there was something you were leaving out.”

There was a hell of a lot he’d left out. Namely her father’s part in the foul deed.

She was waiting for him to respond. He wasn’t much for discussing the past, but if the look on her face was any indication, it meant a lot to her. “There isn’t much to tell. It was my first battle. My father had brought me alone to prove myself. I was so worried about impressing him that I missed the signs of the attack.” But that wasn’t the worst part. “I watched him die.”

Her face filled with sympathy. “God, I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible. But you were only a lad; you couldn’t have done anything to help him.”

“I should have warned him.” Had he not been so upset, so scared, he would have seen the signs. Then, just as last night, emotion had gotten in the way. “I was distracted.”

Her frown barely had time to form before her eyes lit with sudden comprehension. “You loved him.”

He shrugged, the subject making him uneasy. “It didn’t do him any good.”

“Even Achilles had a weak spot, Arthur.”