“Forgive me,” she said through her hysterics. “But if you could only see how funny you look.”
He glanced down at himself and then back at her and began to laugh as well, a mischievous twinkle glowing in his eyes. “My lady, you are still soapy.” He maintained his balance this time and came around the tub toward her.
She backed away from him. “Now, Braiton, what are you going to do?” she squealed.
He reached for the bucket and filled it with the basin water.
She screamed and started to run.
He followed close behind.
“Do not dare to do this,” she scolded over her shoulder.
They ran around the chopping block, laughing like a couple of children.
She made her way to the other side of the spacious kitchen, Braiton on her heels. Brawn barked and raced around the table, slipping and sliding on the soapy floor. She fell to her knees, doubled over with laughter at the clumsy dog.
Not expecting her to stop short, Braiton slid into her, falling backward and spilling the water over them both.
Soaked to the bone, her dress clung to the curve of her breasts. In that moment, she was aware of nothing else in the room, but him. His emerald eyes stared at the beads of water trickling down her cleavage. So captivated was he, she almost believed he would reach over and trace their path.
“Saints preserve us,” an angry voice snapped from the archway. They both turned to find Anna standing, hands on hips, her plump face screwed into a scorn. “What in heaven’s name has happened in here,” she demanded, looking around the room.
Braiton stood, pushed the wet hair from his eyes, and extended a hand to Raven. How quickly he composed himself, where as, her heart still raced.
He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Anna,” he responded in a calm manor. He made his way past her, his boots squeaking with each slushy step. “Please see what can be done about this room, ’tis a mess.”
Anna’s mouth hung open as she watched him leave the kitchen.
“I am so sorry, Anna.” Raven bent down to retrieve the bucket. “I will clean this, you need not trouble yourself.”
“Nay, m’lady.” Anna took the tin pail from her hands. “’Twill be the death o’ you if you don’t get out o’ those wet clothes.”
“But Anna,” she protested.
“Not another word about it, m’lady.” She pointed to the archway. “Now, off with you.”
She nodded.
“Saints preserve us,” Anna screeched. “What is that?”
She turned to find Anna’s attention on Brawn, sitting wet and matted in the corner.
“That is Brawn, Anna, my dog. I won him today in the village square.”
Anna pointed a finger toward the archway. “You, too, out!” Brawn rose and walked with a dejected gate toward the door, but before leaving he stopped directly in front of Anna and shook the wet fur that hung from his bony body, splattering her crisp, white apron with water.
“Out!” Anna shouted again.
Both Raven and Brawn hurried from kitchen and ran up the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Tilly had kept her word. All the items Raven purchased that morning were waiting for her in her bedchamber. Molly had removed each garment from the boxes and neatly hung them in the wardrobe. The bottles of cologne adorned the dressing table and the bath oils were arranged with care, ready for use.
Molly gasped when Raven came into the room, soaked to the bone. “M’lady, what in heaven’s name happened to you?”
She pointed to Brawn.
Molly set her sights on the wet dog, which looked somewhat like a large drowned rat and gasped again. “And what is that?”
“That, or rather, this, is Brawn, my new dog. I won him in an archery shoot this afternoon in the town square,” she boasted. “He was in need of a bath.”
“It looks to me like you’re the one who had the bath.”
She giggled. “If you think I look dit’ood, wet, you should see Braiton.”
“Lord Shannon helped you?”
She nodded. “He is far more soaked than I am.”
They both laughed. Brawn casually made his way to the warmth of the fireplace and plopped himself down on the floor.
She shivered. “He has the right idea.”
“Get out o’ those wet clothes, m’lady, before you catch your death,” Molly insisted, helping to remove the saturated material and enveloping her cold flesh in a red velveteen robe. At the dressing table, Molly removed the pins from her sagging curls. “’Twill never dry enough before the evening meal to rearrange properly.”
“Then I will wear my hair down, like the married women of my tribe.”
“But m’lady—”
“It will be fine, Molly,” she reassured her with a smile.
“Very well then,” Molly finally agreed. “What will you wear this evening?”
“The light blue dress embroidered with white flowers on the collar.”
Molly went to the wardrobe and retrieved the dress Raven requested, laying it on the bed along with the necessary undergarments. Shrugging off the robe, she slipped the dress over her head.
“You’ve forgotten what goes on underneath, m’lady.”
“I have not forgotten.”
Molly frowned. “But, m’lady—"
“I have decided, when I am here with just my husband, I will dress without the undergarments, like the women of my village.”
“What will Lord Shannon think?”
“He said he wanted me to feel at home.” She turned so Molly could fasten the buttons up the back. “And this is how I will feel at home.”
“I think you might have misunderstood him, lass.”
“It will be fine, Molly,” she said, turning to face the elder woman and giving her arm an affectionate pat. “Could you ask Brian to set the meal table in front of the drawing room fire? I would like for us to have our dinner served in there this evening.”
Molly sighed. “Aye, m’lady, as you wish.”
Braiton waited for her at the bottom of the staircase, watching her descend the stairs in bared feet, the lace-trimmed hem of her dress swishing around her delicate ankles. The garment hugged her tiny waist, the neckline showed a teasing glimpse of cleavage. Her shiny black tresses hung free around her shoulders, and the entire sight of her rendered his mouth dry. Upon her reaching the bottom step, he extended a polite hand to her, and she accepted it with a smile.
“You don’t like your new shoes?”
She shrugged. “They take some getting used to.”
She leaned into him, and his elbow brushed against the side of her breast. She wore nothing beneath. He cleared his throat. “Were the undergarments not to your liking?”
“They will do.”
He raised a brow. “Then I don’t understand why you’re not—"
“You wanted me to feel at home, did you not?” she broke in.
“Aye, my lady, but—”
“With my hair free, feet bared, and no fuss beneath my clothes,” she interrupted again, “I feel very much like I am at home.” She searched his face. “It does not trouble you, does it?”
Trouble me…nay. Disturb me…aye. He swallowed hard. “That’s not the point, lass.”
“What is the point, then?”
He cleared his throat again. “Well, ’tis just not appropriate for you to be so scantly clad.”
“Oh, I would only dress this way, of course, when there is just the two of us having dinner,” she added.
His gaze roamed the length of her. How will I manage to swallow one morsel? “You are full of surprises, lass, never ceasing to amaze me.”
She giggled. “I have another for you tonight.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that might be.”
“Come,” she said, leading him by the hand to the drawing room. Slender fingers entwined with his, her mere touch brightened the cave of loneliness that surrounded his heart.
<
br /> Before the fire, the dinner table sat, covered with a lace tablecloth and fine china. Candles were lit and the wine glasses filled.
“I thought we would eat by the fire, as my people do.”
He escorted her to the table, and over wine, she told him more about her village. Anna brought the first course of the meal and shook her head confused.
After Anna left the room, Raven broke out in laughter. “Poor Anna, first she finds her kitchen a mess, both of us drenched to the bone, Brawn sitting all ragged and wet in the corner, and now she is serving dinner in the drawing room. She will believe for sure we have both lost our senses.”
I have lost all sense of reason, lass, wondering what to expect from you… finding each new day something to look forward to.
She popped a boiled potato in her mouth, savoring it as she chewed. “Eating good food is such happiness.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “It pleases me to hear you say that, because your happiness is of the utmost importance to me.”
She smiled. “Ashoge, my shikaa.”
Brian removed the table after dinner and brought in a tray of Irish coffee and pastries. Braiton moved to sit in the armchair by the fire, puffing on his clay pipe.
Raven recited to him from a book of sonnets. Her soft voice dipped and rose with each stanza. She sat at his feet, her legs crossed and the skirt of her dress pulled up to her knees, revealing shapely, bronzed legs. Looking down at her from where he sat, he had a clear view of her erupting neckline.
I would love to know how those rounded breasts feel, naked and free, in the palms of my hands. His loins grew thick beneath his breeches with the thought, and he shifted in his seat, casting his gaze to the fire, concentrating instead on the poem she read.
“Is anything wrong?”
He took a puff of his pipe, keeping his focus on the flames. “’Twas a full day, my lady and it grows late. Perhaps you could save the rest to read another night?”
He heard her stand and place the book upon a nearby table. She moved closer, standing over him, the luscious scent of her cologne filling his senses. He made no attempt to look her way, not chancing the temptation to reach out to her, pull her down upon his lap, and kiss her full lips. Tormented, he closed his eyes. If you only knew the turmoil you create within me.
“Ashoge for all of my beautiful clothes and for allowing me to keep Brawn.” She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead, and whispered in his ear, “Sleep well, my shikaa.”
So close you are to me, lass. Can you hear my pounding heart?
“You as well, my lady,” he managed to choke out. He didn’t open his eyes until she was long gone from the room. He hated what he had been destined to live with, the isolation, the fear of getting too close to her. All of it was torture and his spirits plunged. Ah, my beautiful wife, shi’aad as your people would say, if you only knew what you did to me.
****
Raven sat up in bed, gazing into the fire and sipping the last of the hot milk Molly brought up to her. Brawn slept at her feet. The mansion was still, and she wondered now if Braiton was asleep. She bid him goodnight with a gentle kiss upon his forehead. How she wished he’d embraced her, kissed her in return. She groaned.
“I cannot sleep thinking these thoughts.” She pulled back the quilt and swung her legs off the bed, reaching for her robe and slipping it on. Brawn lifted his head. “I am only going for more milk,” she said, taking the mug from the bedside table. “Go back to sleep, this does not concern you.” He obeyed, and she made her way down the stairs and to the kitchen.
Molly, Anna, and Brian were still awake, and discussing her and Braiton. She was not usually a part of eavesdropping, but these three people knew Braiton well. If she could learn more about her husband, it would make their time together so much better. Stepping off to the side of the archway, she listened.
“M’lord has such a preoccupied look upon his face,” Brian said. “I brought him his mug o’ hot milk, and he didn’t even glance me way. I set the drink upon the table beside his chair, and he merely thanked me without takin’ his eyes off the fire. ’Tis so unlike him. Always he tries at some sort o’ small talk while instructin’ me on what outfit to lie out for the next day. But tonight ’twas different.” He sighed. “I asked him, ‘what will you be wantin’ to wear on the morrow, m’lord’,” Brian rehashed. “And he told me not to fuss about it, that he needed a wee bit o’ time alone.”
“Somethin’ must have happened,” Molly said. “M’lady was in the same sullen mood, sittin’ up in bed, watchin’ the fire with longin’ in her eyes.”
“I’ve seen him lookin’ lonely, Molly, but ’twas not the look he had tonight,” Brian said. “Nay, tonight there was somethin’ else botherin’ him. Somethin’ more.”
“He’s confused, and a wee bit frightened,” Anna chimed in. “Lady Shannon’s got a way of wedgin’ herself into his heart, and he’s fightin’ it every inch o’ the way.
“Aye,” Molly agreed. “I sensed the same when we were aboard the ship.” She giggled. “Poor souls. When do you suppose they’ll realize they’ve fallin’ in love with each other?”
“Ah, it might be sometime, dear sister,” Anna said. “It took lots o’ lilac water and mutton stew to bring me Patrick around, and sometimes he still needs remindin’”. She sighed. “But m’lady’s got a strong spirit about her. If she keeps at him, he’ll break. And there’s nothin’ sayin’ we can’t help them along a wee bit.”
“How are we goin’ to do that, Anna?” Molly asked.
“We can keep her encouraged by praisin’ his qualities, let her see the good man that he is, so she’ll not be givin’ up,” Anna suggested. “And you, Brian, could drop pleasantries about her, keep her always on his mind.”
Brian chuckled. “I think she’s already on his mind.”
“Good, then ’twill be an easy task,” Anna said.
Brian sighed. “I’ll not be conspirin’ against him.”
“You’re not conspirin’ against him, but for them, Brian,” Anna added.
“Not to worry, Brian,” Molly said. “Anna and I will do most o’ the work.” Then she giggled like a school girl with a secret. “I’d better get to sleep, mornin’ comes early.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood. “Good evenin’ to you folks, sleep well.”
Not wanting to be caught listening, Raven flew up the stairs and into her room, securing the door behind her. Brawn lifted his head to look at her and focused his gaze on the empty milk mug she still held in her hand.
She arched a brow. “So, I did not happen to get more milk.” Frowning, she said again. “Go back to sleep, this does not concern you.”
****
Braiton’s news would bring his wife great joy. Barely able to contain his excitement, he burst through the foyer’s double doors, almost knocking Brian off of the step-stool he stood upon.
“Brian, my man, where might my lady be?”
Brian moved to clean a lower shelf of the large bookcase he dusted. “Ah, in her chamber, m’lord, but she’s—”
He didn’t wait to hear the rest of Brian’s answer, taking the stairs two at a time to her room. Without knocking, he entered her chamber and stopped in shock at what he saw.
Raven emerged from her bath, her back to him, drying her hair with a towel. Golden brown skin glistened with water droplets, her long shapely legs spread slightly apart. And there, sitting on the fleshy part of her thigh, was the crescent shaped birth mark he’d glimpsed while tending her fever aboard the ship.
“I am glad you are here, Molly. I would love to soak all day, but enough is enough. My fingers and toes are all wrinkled.” She wrapped the towel around her head and turned around.
Upon meeting each other’s glance, they both froze.
His voice, caught somewhere down near his toes, failed him. His gaze was riveted on her naked splendor. The heat coursing through his veins as he scanned the length of her; from the erect, pink peaks capping full breasts to the
slim belly, down to the roundness of her hips and finally resting on the triangular patch of dark hair between her thighs.
“Braiton,” she gasped, bringing him back to his senses.
He lowered his gaze and spun around. “I’m so sorry, Raven. Truly, I had no idea you were…”
She scampered to the bed. “You could have knocked.”
“Aye, aye, you’re right, my lady.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I must remember to do that.” He cleared his throat. “And I apologize for my rudeness. There is no excuse for my behavior, other than the fact I was excited over a surprise I have for you.”
“A surprise for me?”
“Aye, may I turn around?”
“Yes.”
He turned to find her tightening the cord of the robe around her tiny waist. A waist he could picture naked again. Forever that image of her would be etched in his mind.
“What is the surprise?”
He cleared his throat, pulling his wits together. “I have invited a business client for dinner this evening, by the name of Lord Morgan Wade. Actually, ’tis he who has the surprise for you.”
She frowned. “But I do not know this Morgan Wade.”
He chuckled. “Well, he knows you.”
She neared, affording him a whiff of the jasmine oil. “How does he know me?”
“If I told you that, lass, ’twould ruin the surprise.” He made his way to the door. “I will leave you now to your day. Lord Wade will arrive at seven. Please join us in the drawing room. Oh, and my lady, you must address him as my lord,” he added, stifling a smile, “and be sure to wear everything that goes beneath the dress this evening.”
****
Raven thought Molly worked her magic with her hair, the sides brought to the top of her head in a cascade of ringlets, the back left down, curls flowing freely to her waist. The gold satin gown trimmed with white lace was a stunning contrast against her skin. The empire bodice and scooped neckline revealed a tempting amount of cleavage.
When she entered the drawing room, Braiton stood by the fireplace, smoking his pipe. Morgan Wade sat in a nearby armchair sipping brandy from a cut glass goblet. Both men turned her way.
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