“Of course I dare, Briar Rose,” Ash said with a lazy grin. “This is my solar.”
Rosetta stared up at him from the edge of the tub, while the water continued to lap against her from her quick retreat into its depths; some of the bathwater had even splashed onto the planks and soaked the rug.
True, ’twas his chamber, and as lord, he had every right to come and go as he pleased. Surely he had more respect for her, though, than to stride in while she was bathing and therefore naked?
“I did knock,” he said, as if that explained how he’d come to be standing just a few paces away from the tub. “You obviously did not hear me.”
“Obviously,” she muttered. What was she going to do now? She wished she could lift her hand and wipe away the droplets running into her eyes, but she couldn’t move without him seeing even more of her than a lady ever revealed to a man except when she was married to him and in the privacy of their bedchamber.
Except that this was his bedchamber, and once, long ago, they’d talked about running away and getting married…
Ash’s gaze slid down to her chin touching the rim of the tub. His eyes smoldered, and she shuddered in the water that was rapidly lost its warmth.
“What reason did you have for disturbing me, Ash? As you can see, I am not prepared for visitors.”
“I guessed that.” He winked. “For some reason, though, I find myself reluctant to be gallant and leave.”
Heat spread across her face at his husky tone. She shouldn’t be flattered by his roguishness, and yet, a delicious, wanton heat chased through her, right down to the tips of her toes.
His wicked grin widening, he closed the distance between them and crouched in front of her, the leather of his boots creaking.
His expression was a heart-wrenching blend of fierce longing and self-restraint. Long ago, he’d gazed upon her in such a manner. Her pulse thundered, excitement and remorse tangling up inside her like fast-growing vines.
The scent of him, of the outdoors, leather, and man, teased her over the lingering fragrance of the soap she’d used to wash. As he reached out and gently brushed water droplets from her cheek, a nagging pressure spread through her lower belly—a forbidden desire she was finding more and more difficult to suppress.
“Do you have any idea how I have dreamed of seeing you naked?” he whispered, his gloved finger sliding along her cheekbone.
“Ash—”
“I still dream.” His finger glided over her mouth, and the softness of the leather against her lips made her shudder. “I am sure, though, that what I imagine is nowhere near as lovely as you really are.”
How she ached inside to hear such words. Even as she acknowledged her own yearning for him, however, her gaze slid to the ring on her hand.
Ash’s focus shifted to the jewel, too. He exhaled a harsh breath, shoved to standing, and turned his back to her.
She sighed, a sound of regret as well as relief.
“Believe it or not, I did come here with a good reason for seeing you,” he said. “I came to ask…if you would like to walk with me on the battlements.”
Rosetta glanced at his back, her gaze indulging in a quick study of his broad shoulders, narrowed waist defined by his leather belt, and strong, muscular legs. So handsome, and yet, still a mystery to her in a great many ways.
Mayhap ’twas best for them both, when the attraction between them was still undeniably real. The better she knew him, the harder ’twould be to forget him when she left Damsley Keep. She was already practically married to Edric, apart from the formal church ceremony. Yet, even as the rational part of her mind encouraged her to refuse Ash’s offer of a walk, her conscience reminded her that she’d loved him once; he’d been her best friend as well as her soul mate, and she owed it to their past friendship to try and at least understand the warrior he had become. “I would enjoy a walk,” she said.
“Tell the guards when you are ready. All right?” Ash’s head turned slightly, revealing his sun-bronzed profile to her.
“All right.”
“I will see you anon.”
He left, the door shutting behind him.
Rosetta finished washing her hair and then stood, water streaming down her body. She grabbed one of the linen towels and dried her torso, then twisted her hair up in the towel before stepping out of the tub and drying off her legs and feet. Shivering in the cool air, she donned her chemise and silk gown, combed out her wet hair, slipped on her shoes, and then drew on her cloak. She tapped on the door.
A guard answered. His features reminded her of Justin. Was he the boy’s uncle? She was tempted to ask; however, she didn’t want the lad to think she had been talking about him with his relative.
“I will summon Lord Blakeley for you, milady,” the man said, bowing.
“Thank you.”
While she waited, she sat by the fire, running the brush through her tresses. Her hair was almost dry when she heard Ash’s familiar knock.
She crossed to the door just as he entered. His gaze skimmed over her, and his mouth curved in a wolfish smile that swept her back to a short while ago when she’d been naked.
“Enough, Ash,” she muttered.
He chuckled and gestured for her to step out into the shadowed, torch lit passageway. “What I saw earlier?” he said while they walked side by side. “’Twas far from enough to satisfy my lustful curiosity.”
Mercy, but that wanton thrill shot through her again. With effort, she stifled it.
He escorted her to a doorway opening onto a flight of stone steps leading up. He urged her to go first, while he followed close behind. When her foot slipped on the uneven stairs, he steadied her, one hand at her waist and the other holding her hand, until she regained her balance. ’Twas odd to touch his fingers encased in leather, rather than his bare skin. With a twinge of regret, she wished he would trust her enough to let her see his injured hands.
The stairs opened onto the battlements where a few burning torches cast light into the darkness. Stars glinted in the black sky overhead, and the wind whispered across the weathered stonework as they walked together to the crenellated wall.
“’Tis a beautiful night,” she said, hugging herself. “The stars are as bright as gems.”
“We used to sneak away from the great hall and go up to the battlements of Millenstowe Keep to watch the stars,” Ash murmured. “Do you remember?”
“I do.” She recalled everything about those glorious days with him. They had watched the night sky while she’d stood in his embrace, her back pressed against his chest, her head tipped back against his shoulder. She had never felt closer to him than in those moments. His love for her, and hers for him, had wrapped around them like a cozy blanket and she’d been safe, content, and so very sure that she never wanted to be anywhere else but with him.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she walked away a few paces, fighting to regain control of her emotions.
He followed, his boots rapping on the stone. “Briar Rose.”
She paused by a stone merlon and turned her face into the wind. It blew strands of hair into her face and she shut her eyes, glad of the chance to hide her brimming tears.
Leather rasped against her cheek as he eased the hair away.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Ash staring down at her. The sadness in his gaze caused a painful pressure to gather within her. “Ash—”
“I wish I could touch you,” he whispered. “Rip off this damned leather and really touch you. I remember the softness of your skin. ’Tis like the finest goose down. And the silk of your hair… ’Tis like the most expensive cloth.”
“If you remove your gloves—”
“Never.”
“Why not? Your scars are marks of honor.”
“I cannot—”
“Ash, you got your wounds while fighting for the King. They are proof of your life’s experiences, and part of who you are now. They are naught to be ashamed of.”
Wariness and pain etched his features. “You would not know. You have not seen my hands.”
“I want to see them. Truly I do. I need…”
“Need?” The huskiness of his tone made her tremble inside. “What do you need, Briar Rose?”
You, the way you were before, when love between us was as natural as breathing.
“I want to at least understand why you are the man you have become.” The words sounded awkward, strained, but at least she’d finally said them.
He stared out into the night, his demeanor unyielding.
Lowering her voice, she said, “I know there are things you cannot tell me, because of what you do for the crown. Yet, every time you speak of Edric—”
Ash cursed.
“See? You get angry.”
“As is my right.”
“Why? What happened between you two? I simply do not—”
“Understand?” Such hatred flashed in Ash’s eyes: anger not for what she’d asked, but for what he knew and she didn’t.
“Aye,” she said softly.
“If I tell you the truth, you will not believe me.”
“Ash!”
He leaned in closer in the darkness, his breath rasping across her brow. “In regards to what happened? I cannot even prove the truth to you or anyone else. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“Knowing the truth while others are oblivious to it… ’Tis a terrible burden to carry on your own.”
His eyes flared with surprise, and then he averted his gaze.
“I want the truth,” she insisted. “I do not care how difficult it might be to hear.”
His expression bleak, Ash said, “Once I have said the words, I cannot take them back.”
“I know.”
Anguish shivered across his face. His voice like grating stone, he said, “My forehead and hands were cut by an enemy sword. However, I was not wounded while battling a Saracen.”
Confusion rippled through her. “Then how—?”
“I was attacked by a man I trusted and loved as a brother.”
“You cannot mean—”
“Aye, Briar Rose. Edric used the weapon on me.”