by Ashe Barker
Robbie merely shrugged and turned his attention to the baby who had started to fret in her sleep. The only other small child he had any real experience with had been his nephew, Duncan. The lad was almost three years old now, the son of his older sister, Joan, and as wild a wee heathen as Robbie had ever encountered. He could barely credit that sweet little Cecily was of the same species. He murmured something soothing and stroked her silky curls, and soon the tiny features softened into dreamless sleep once more.
“Is she all right?” Jane asked.
“Aye, she is fine.” He glanced up to see that Jane now held the shift against her chest in a questionable attempt to cover herself. The edge of one prettily rounded hip emerged when she leaned forward to gain a better view of the sleeping baby.
“Right, then.” She backed away from him until her calves pressed against the edge of the bathtub. “Just, do not look.”
He shrugged again, noncommittal.
Jane turned, treating him to a rather beautiful and all too brief glimpse of her heart-shaped bottom and slender waist before she stepped into the tub and sank under the water.
Robbie’s cock swelled. He meant it when he had told her he was not about to be overcome with lust, but he was still a man, and Miss Jane Bartle was an exceedingly fine example of a female. He regretted, suddenly, his less than gallant insistence on remaining in the room whilst she bathed since it was obvious he was to be denied the pleasure of sampling the lush curves or satin-like skin on reluctant display. Robbie sighed and settled himself against the pillows. He consoled himself with the thought that it would be his turn to enjoy a warm bath soon enough...
“Robbie...?”
Her tone had softened now. He leaned up on his elbow and could just see the top of her head. “Aye? What is it?”
“Could you...? I wonder, would you pass me the bucket of clean water, please?”
The two lads who had hefted the bathwater upstairs in buckets had left two pails full of steaming water by the fire, for topping up the bath later, or to be used as a clean rinse. Robbie supposed the latter was her purpose since Jane’s dark mass of hair was wet and soapy, piled on top of her dainty head. He eased himself away from Cecily and reached for pillows to tuck on either side of the baby to stop her from rolling off the bed, then he stalked over to the fire and picked up one of the buckets.
“If you lean forward, I can pour it over your head. Or, better still, lean back an’ let me rinse your hair in the bucket since it is too long to get properly clean otherwise.” At least half the length of her ebony locks would remain floating in the soapy bathwater when he tried to rinse the rest.
Clearly, Jane appreciated the dilemma. “Maybe if you just place the bucket close by, where I can reach it...”
“Just here?” He set it down next to the tub and stood back, arms folded.
It took just a few futile moments of flailing her arm over the side of the tub for Jane to accept this would not work.
“My offer remains,” he reminded her, attempting not to grin at the fleeting glimpse of one creamy breast that emerged briefly from among the soap suds.
“As does mine.”
“Your offer?”
“To slap you, should you dare to... to ogle me.”
“Ah, that offer. Fair enough.”
He picked up a low stool and set it at the end of the bath, behind Jane. Then he brought the bucket of warm water around and arranged that between the stool and the bath before seating himself on the stool.
“Tip your head back, Jane,” he instructed.
“But, you will be able to see my... my...”
“Your breasts. Yes. But I promise not to... ogle, was it?” He placed his hands on either side of her head and eased her backwards. “That’s right. Just let it fall back, and... aye, like that.” He bundled the soapy mass of hair into the bucket and sank his hands in too, to swirl the tresses around in the cleansing water. “Close your eyes,” he commanded softly before dribbling a handful of water over her forehead to wash away the final lingering bubbles. Then he took his time finger-combing the mass to tease out any tangles and make sure all the soap was gone.
“I am sure it must be rinsed by now,” Jane observed.
He supposed she was right, but Robbie was rather enjoying himself despite her insistence upon covering her exposed breasts with her hands. To be fair, her breasts were distinctly full and her hands could hardly be described as large. They were far from adequate to this task, so his view was not unduly disturbed.
“You have lovely hair, Janie.”
“Thank you.”
“And were I a man given to ogling, I would have tae observe that ye have lovely tits as well, though I fear ye might slap me for my trouble.”
Her eyes shot open, and she sat bolt upright, managing to send a bow wave of warm water cascading over the side of the tub. “Must you be so... crude?”
He gave her question a moment’s thought. “Aye, ‘twould seem so. Would ye like me tae pass ye a towel?”
Jane flung her arm out, reaching for the towel. He grabbed it from the floor close by and shoved it into her grasp, then reached for her elbow to steady her as, amid much splashing, she clambered to her feet.
“I do not need your help,” she snapped, an instant before catching her toe on the edge of the tub and pitching forward into his arms.
“Of course ye do not,” he agreed, stepping back and drawing her along with him until he was able to sink into the fireside chair. He settled her on his lap and pulled the towel about her damp shoulders. “But, needin’ help is one thing, acceptin’ it anyway is another.” He rubbed his nose in her dripping hair. “Or maybe I am the one in need of help.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want ye, Janie. Maybe I need ye, just a little bit, too.”
“But, you promised...”
“Aye, I did. I shall no’ force ye tae do anything ye dinnae wish tae, but it makes no difference tae what I want.”
“You... you said I had to ask you nicely,” she reminded him. “Just now, when we arrived.”
“Aye, but that was if ye wanted me tae fuck ye. I might decide tae kiss ye anyway, whether ye ask me or no’.”
“K-kiss me...?”
“Aye, kiss ye. Like this...” His lips brushed hers, gentle at first, then firming when she made no move to push him away. He drew the tip of his tongue along the seam of her mouth and allowed himself a satisfied smile when she opened for him. He dipped his tongue between her teeth to dance with hers, tasting, exploring, playing.
Her body was rigid in his arms but softened encouragingly as he deepened the kiss. One small hand reached up from within the towel to cup his jaw, and she made a sound deep in her throat. For a brief, heady moment, he fancied his little she-cat might be purring.
A soft whimper reached his ears, then another, followed by a high-pitched wail.
The baby.
He broke the kiss and smiled into Jane’s stormy gaze. She seemed momentarily confused; dazed, even.
“What...? How...?”
He stood up, then set her back down in the chair. The towel draped seductively away from her shoulders to reveal her perfect breasts, but she seemed unconcerned about this detail now. Robbie bent to drop a soft kiss on her forehead. “Get dressed. I shall see tae the wee one.”
* * *
“I suppose it will be all right,” Jane muttered. “For us to share the bed, I mean.”
Robbie raised his mug of ale in a silent salute but said nothing.
“I mean, after the bath,” she went on, “and... everything...”
“Everything?” His voice was soft, wickedly so.
Sweet Mother of God, those butterflies! And when he looks at me like that, under his eyebrows...
Jane swallowed hard and pressed on. “Yes, the bath. I mean, if we did not... when we had no clothes on...”
“Ah, I see.” And he did, she was certain of it. In fact, this infuriating man saw far too much.
�
��I mean, a kiss...” she continued, determined to explain herself, to dispel any disreputable misconceptions he might be harbouring. “Well, that amounts to nothing, does it? Not really...”
“If ye say so, Janie.”
“I do. And... we will have our clothes on this time.”
“I prefer tae sleep naked, if ‘tis all the same tae ye.”
“N-naked?” Wetness gathered between her thighs. Must he always be quite so direct?
“I would suggest ye do the same, since then we can have the inn launder our clothes overnight. Ye only brought the one dress wi’ ye, is that no’ right, Janie?”
“Yes, you know it is. I had no time to pack a satchel.”
“Well, then? Shall I ask the landlord’s wife tae see that your clothes as well as mine are fresh for tomorrow?”
It would be silly to refuse, especially when he was quite right. She had but the one dress she stood up in and there was no telling when the next chance to have it laundered might present itself. She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.
“‘Tis a big enough bed, after all,” he observed. “Ye can keep your distance. I shall even turn around for long enough tae allow ye tae get under the covers.”
“Ah, chivalry. At last.” He had demonstrated not a hint of such courtesy earlier.
“So, naked it is then, aye?”
Jane flattened her lips in irritation but gave a curt nod.
Cecily was already asleep in the sturdy little crib that had been dragged into their chamber. She had been well-fed on bread that Jane had soaked in gravy from the roast boar, followed by a cup of slightly warmed goat’s milk, and Jane had bathed her in a few inches of water in the bathtub. Cecily had loved the experience, giggling and kicking throughout. After, she had settled down at once, exhausted. Jane was confident she could be relied upon to not wake until dawn.
That only left her own slumbers, and those of her handsome yet infuriating companion.
“Very well,” she conceded. “I shall get undressed beneath the blankets.”
“As ye like. Ye will not object if I dinnae do the same?” He got to his feet and started to remove his leather overtunic.
Jane did not dignify his question with an answer. He would do as he pleased in any case. Instead, she scampered to the bed and hopped onto the mattress. It would be more bother than it was worth to try to remove her dress under the blankets so she took that off before diving in, then spent the next few minutes wriggling and writhing to finally divest herself of her shift. She tossed it out onto the floor, then squeaked and buried her face under the pillow when a gloriously, unashamedly nude Scotsman strolled across to retrieve the discarded garment.
Dearest Mary, do all men had cocks that size or would that just be a Scottish thing?
Her cheeks flamed. She had never seen a man thus before, had never so much as imagined...
Well, that was not entirely true. She had allowed herself to fantasise from time to time; indeed, she had done so quite a lot just of late. But... Blessed Virgin, he was huge!
There was a soft click followed by a murmur of voices as Robbie passed the clothing to someone outside, issuing instructions regarding the care and return of the garments before closing and bolting their door. Then the mattress dipped, and he was beside her in the bed.
The four-poster had looked spacious enough before but felt decidedly cramped now. Jane was intensely aware of the male presence mere inches away. Was it her imagination or did he actually radiate heat?
She lay stiff, quite motionless, barely daring to breathe.
“Jane, ye must relax if either of us is tae get a wink o’ sleep.”
“I am quite relaxed, thank you,” she whispered, the words muffled by her pillow.
“At the very least, take your head out from under there afore ye smother yourself, pet.”
“Can you not just... be quiet?”
The mattress shifted under his weight as he rolled onto his side to face away from her. “Aye, I can if that is what ye prefer. Sleep well, Janie.”
“My name is Jane, not Janie,” she breathed, though not loud enough for him to hear. “And I am not your pet.”
* * *
She awoke to the sound of birdsong and the occasional shout from outside. It was barely dawn, but already the streets were stirring. A horse whinnied, a woman’s voice drifted past. And, could that delicious smell filling her nostrils be the aroma of baking bread?
She inhaled deeply, appreciating the homey scent. But there was more. Another scent reached her nostrils, earthy and warm, the tang of woodland, horses, and... leather. It was an aroma she could only describe as... male. And it was familiar. A particular male...
Oh, Lord...
Jane came fully awake with a start, her limbs stiffening with the realisation that she was not alone. Worse, not only was there someone sharing her bed, but she had somehow seen fit to curl herself around that someone during the night. Her legs were tangled with his, her arms wrapped about his solid torso. His sculpted, male, and utterly naked torso. She had even somehow contrived to lay her cheek against his chest and found herself listening with wonder to the rhythmic, intimate thud of his heartbeat.
“For pity’s sake, wench, can ye no’ be still?”
“What...?” She blinked, trying to work out what was happening here. “What are you doing?”
“I was tryin’ tae sleep.”
“You should not be... I mean, I need you to... to... Why are you not on your side of the bed?” she finally demanded as she recalled at last the details of their ‘arrangement.’ She glared at his shoulder in outrage.
“I am on my side. An’ so are you.”
“I am not!” Indignant, Jane shoved herself up on one elbow, managing to dig that pointed part of her anatomy right between his ribs. Robbie let out a curse as she peered back over her shoulder at the expanse of bed she had somehow managed to abandon during the night. “But, I do not understand...”
“You muttered something about bein’ cold,” he offered by way of explanation. “The next thing, ye were snuggling against me. Like a block of ice, ye were.”
“I... I...”
“But, ye soon warmed up.” He rubbed his abused ribs. “Tell me, Janie, are ye always so bad-tempered in the mornin’?” He reached over to pat her hip, then proceeded to rub slow circles between her shoulder blades. “Settle down, lass. ‘Tis no’ time tae get up quite yet.”
He pulled her against him such that her breasts flattened against the side of his body. The intimacy of the gesture would actually be quite nice, were it not so inappropriate. Positively indecent. Her mother would be mortified if she could see her now.
Or would she? Mistress Bartle had raised sixteen children and lost four more to the common childhood ailments that always lurked, ready to pick off the weak. She had been widowed when her youngest was but a few weeks old but had somehow managed. None of them had starved. Jane’s mother was above all else a practical woman and would not begrudge her daughter finding a little warmth where it might be had. And comfort. The soothing hand on her back felt pleasant. And sort of... right. Despite her misgivings, Jane allowed herself to be lulled into sinking back against him and closing her eyes. Just for a moment, of course.
She was awakened by a knock on the door. She prised her eyelids apart to be met with broad daylight and knew at once that she was alone in the bed.
“Robbie?” She peered out from beneath the blanket.
“Ah, ye’re awake, then?” He winked at her from his seat in the fireside chair.
She noted that he was already dressed. A merry blaze flickered in the hearth and already the tendrils of warmth were starting to soften the chilly edge left by the receding night. Cecily gurgled cheerily on his lap.
“That should be our breakfast. I hope ye’re hungry. This wee one certainly is.” He got to his feet and ambled across to unbolt the door. The serving wench who had greeted them when they first arrived scurried in with a tray.
“Good morning,
sir, madam. I have some nice porridge for ye, and some milk for the baby. Were your clothes to your liking?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Polly.”
Polly?
Before she could ask, Jane spotted her own drab dress neatly folded at the foot of the bed, her shift tidily arranged on top. If the eternally cheerful Polly found anything odd about the difference in the quality of their garments she gave no hint of it as she bustled about, setting the tray on the table.
“Do you need more firewood bringing up, sir?”
Robbie shook his head. “Not yet, thank you. We shall eat, then we have business to attend to in the town. I trust my horse can be saddled and ready for me in, shall we say half an hour?”
“Of course, sir, half an hour it is.” The girl bobbed a scrappy curtsey and left them to their breakfast.
“Business? What business do we have that is so urgent?” Jane sat up in the bed, taking care to clutch the blanket against her to conceal her naked breasts.
Robbie grinned at her and Jane could have sworn he was mocking her perhaps belated attempt at modesty.
Bloody man...
“Archie sent word that Lady Falconer has been spotted a few miles to the east of Stratford late yesterday. We can expect her tae be arrivin’ in the town today, no doubt. I dinnae want tae waste any time meetin’ up with her so that we may be on our way.”
“Oh. I see.”
He shot her a sharp glance. “Is there a problem, Janie?”
She shook her head quickly. “Of course not. It is just... I had hoped to be able to look around, maybe purchase more supplies. We have no milk left, and Cecily might do well with a little egg...”
“We shall have plenty o’ time tae visit the market, provided ye dinnae mean tae lounge about in bed half the day. The streets are nicely warmed up now, an’ this wee girl is wantin’ her breakfast. Your clothes are here, all fresh an’ clean for ye...”
“You shall have to turn around...”
“Ah, back tae that, are we?” he sighed, then rose from his chair with Cecily still in his arms and crossed the room to look out of the window. “Get on with it then. We both promise no’ tae peep.”