Though Heath's tone was light and teasing, Raven suddenly realized that they all wanted her to stay. She felt gratitude and guilt at the same time. Gratitude because they had made her feel like one of the family; guilt because she intended to leave.
“Ram is off to Glasgow for some of the gold he has on deposit. Not only do the stables need immediate repair, but he wants money to recruit more moss-troopers.” Tina bent and kissed Raven's brow. “I hope you feel better soon, love. Come and see the babies when you feel up to it.”
As they were leaving, a serving maid brought a breakfast tray. Heath took it from her and asked her to bring enough food for two for the next few days. Then he sat down, put the tray on the bed, and lifted a cover. “Traditional Scots breakfast. Do you like porridge?”
Raven wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Porridge is porridge.”
“Porridge is porridge except when Mr. Burque makes it. Then it is ambrosia, fit for a goddess.”
There was a jug of yellow cream and a dish of golden syrup which Heath poured liberally on the oatmeal. Then he dipped in the spoon and lifted it to Raven's lips. The act felt so intimate that she blushed when she opened her mouth for him.
“Ah yes, I can clearly see what you had for dinner last night. I see a salmon and a wood duck swimming about.”
Raven laughed and the awkwardness was gone. “As well as feeding me, you are going to entertain me. And you were right, this is ambrosia. No, no, don't take the spoon away so quickly, let me lick off the syrup.”
He held up the spoon and smiled into her eyes. “Lick away.”
Her blush was back. Her thoughts were sensual. Now that she was deprived of her tactile sense, she suddenly had an urge to touch things and experience what they felt like. Her glance roamed over the dark shadow on Heath's cheeks, and she wanted to run her fingertips across his morning beard. Her glance lowered to his cream-colored shirt that was such a contrast against his tanned skin, and her fingers itched to feel the rough linen. Then, from beneath her lashes, her glance slid across the smooth black calfskin that covered his thigh. She licked the syrup from her lips and swallowed hard.
Beneath the next cover was a platter of eggs, potatoes, and lamb kidneys. Raven shook her head. “You eat it, please.” She watched Heath with pleasure as he devoured the food. He had a man's healthy appetite, and he appreciated the artistry of the chef's superior talent in both the cooking and the presentation. Mr. Burque also had sent up freshly baked scones with strawberry preserves, and when Raven saw how much Heath was enjoying them, she decided to try one.
Heath offered her a bite of his, and she took an extralarge mouthful. “Greedy wench,” he teased, delighted that she felt well enough to eat at all. When the food was finished, he set aside the tray and said matter-of-factly, “Do you want to get dressed?” The look of apprehension on her face told him clearly that she was not yet ready to have him remove her night rail and put her clothes on for her. He opened the wardrobe, selected a garment, and brought it to the bed. “Instead of struggling with a dress today, why don't you put on this bed robe? It's quite respectable enough to wear while you visit the babies.”
Raven rewarded him with a look of gratitude, which gave him pleasure, but he knew that shortly she was going to have to get over her modesty. “Your hands should be pain-free for the next few hours. I have to see to some of the horses, but I will go to the stillroom and mix you some poppy and licorice root for later. When you are in pain, the hours of the night can be endless.”
Raven felt a stab of fear at letting him leave, but crushed it down. She would need him much more throughout the long hours of twilight, dusk, and night. “Heath, thank you for helping me.”
“You make me feel quite gallant,” he teased, then he sobered. “We will get through this bad time together, Raven.”
When she was alone, her thoughts seemed to chase each other in circles. She thought about Christopher Dacre and how unchivalrous his behavior had been on the night she had tried to free him; however, she refused to believe that the fire was in retaliation for holding him to ransom. It must have been an accident, though Heath had made it clear that he thought otherwise. And Ramsay Douglas intended to recruit more moss-troopers, so he too must believe it was a deliberate act of arson. She wished with all her heart that the English and the Scots would cease their hostilities and put an end to their mutual acts of violence. Since she had been here in Scotland, she had come to realize there were absolutely no differences between Scot and Englishman. Nationality did not matter one jot. People shared the same hopes and fears, felt pain, envy, jealousy, and love, no matter their heritage, their age, or even their gender. Human beings were human beings the world over.
Raven's thoughts were interrupted by two maidservants who carried in a slipper bath and a pile of fresh towels. They both expressed sympathy about her burns, and one of them picked up the singed and blackened gown she had worn. “Is it true that Heath Kennedy rescued ye from the fire?”
“Yes, he saved my life,” Raven confirmed.
“He is so courageous, and so handsome.” Both maids sighed as if the mere thought of the dark Borderer made them weak with longing.
“I apologize for not making my bed or tidying up the chamber.” She held up her bandaged hands, feeling completely useless.
“Heath has informed us that you must do nothin' but rest for the next few days.” The maids looked at her as if she were the luckiest female in the world to be in his keeping.
After they left, Raven felt her cheeks burning. Not only had he instructed them to bring the bathing tub, it must have been obvious that he had removed the door from its hinges, and quite apparent that he had not slept in the other bed last night. Splendor of God, what must they be thinking? Her inner voice answered her: They are thinking that Heath Kennedy is my lover, and would willingly trade places with me, burned hands and all!
CHAPTER 14
Raven spent the early afternoon hours with Valentina and the twins. As she had foretold, when they rang the bell that hung from the window overlooking the lake, the pair of swans came gliding up, eager to be fed.
“Oh, I am so glad the fire didn't frighten them away,” Tina said happily, then quickly looked at Raven with sympathy. “But I am sorry your falcons are gone. It must be most upsetting for you.”
“I am infinitely thankful that they escaped the fire, so I am not unduly upset. They know how to hunt for their food, they have their freedom, and they have each other. Sultan and Sheba will soon revert to their wild ways.”
When Tina declared that it was feeding time for her own little swans, Raven went back to her chamber to give Tina privacy. She was surprised, yet secretly pleased, when Heath returned in midafternoon. Her pulse became erratic when she thought of his promising to wash her hair, and wondered just how they would go about the business. She half hoped he had forgotten, but almost immediately the servants arrived with hot water and filled up the bathing tub.
Heath closed the door behind the servants when they left, then turned to Raven, studying her with intense eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts. When he saw her look of apprehension, he realized immediately that she would decline, and knew he would have to firmly take the decision upon himself.
“Washing your hair will rid it of the offensive smoky odor, and the easiest way will be to bathe you at the same time.”
“Heath, I don't think I can,” she said faintly.
“Raven, don't turn all prudish and prim on me. I know how shy you are feeling at this moment, and I will do my very best to preserve your modesty, but I am giving you absolutely no choice in the matter.” He went to his trunk and removed a garment. “Since you once very generously lent me your shirt, I am now going to return the favor and let you wear one of mine.”
Very deliberately, his fingers unfastened the neck of her bed robe, then he took her to the bed, bade her sit, and sat down behind her. He reached his hands around her and slowly drew off the robe, taking extra care with her bandaged hand
s as he pulled off the sleeves. Raven was now down to her white night rail, and without hesitation, Heath reached to unfasten the row of tiny pearl buttons that ran from her neck to her navel. When he tried to lift it off, she held her arms close to her body, preventing him.
“Raven, don't you think I've imagined what your body looks like a thousand times over?” he murmured.
She drew in a swift breath and her heart skipped a beat. His words disarmed her. He was a man of the world and a woman's body probably held little mystery for him. It was different for her, who had so little experience of men. Sitting on a bed, being undressed by Heath, while their bodies were inches apart was most disturbing. She could feel the heat of his broad chest and the warmth of his arms as they reached around her. His murmured words slithered down her spine in a frisson of pleasure, while his male scent enveloped her, evoking feelings that were new and strange.
At the same time she felt vulnerable and helpless, and completely in his power. To Raven's utter amazement, she liked the feeling. He was fiercely protective of her and she felt that she could rely on him for anything, everything. He was her rock, her bastion, her protector, and her healer. She lifted her arms and symbolically yielded herself to his tender care.
The night rail dropped from Heath's fingers as he looked down at Raven's naked back. It was like cream satin, and the warm, smooth flesh curving down to her round bottom was sensual and feminine. He longed to lift the black curtain of hair from the nape of her neck and brush his lips across the intimate, private place. He wanted to put his mouth against her naked flesh and whisper dark, erotic words that would arouse her and make her feel beautiful. She smelled of smoke and woman, and it made him smolder with an insatiable longing to taste her.
Heath was fully aroused by the lovely female who sat before him. Though her back was turned to him, he was quite tall enough to look down over her shoulder and watch her delicate breasts rise and fall with every breath she took. He fought his desire to caress her by concentrating on getting his shirt on her without hurting her. He gave her no time to change her mind, but lifted her from the bed immediately and deposited her gently in the water, reminding her to keep her bandages dry.
Raven carefully draped her arms over the edge of the tub to keep her hands from getting wet. She had no idea that the water had turned Heath's shirt almost transparent and that her pink nipples were completely visible through the wet material. She watched him lather his hands with soap, and her lavender-blue eyes widened as she realized that he intended to rub them all over her. The material was thin enough that the soap would penetrate through to her skin, and she realized that she would feel every touch, every stroke, every caress of his hands as they slid over her wet body.
“Some things take precedence over modesty, Raven. Just keep reminding yourself that cleanliness is next to godliness,” he said with a perfectly straight face. Heath placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders and rubbed his palms in circles, then as soon as that part of her was soaped, he moved his palms down to her breasts and gently massaged and stroked the lovely round globes until each of her nipples was decorated with a peak of white lather.
“Oh!” Raven gasped. “That is the first time a man has ever touched my breasts!”
“There is a first time for everything, my beauty, and earth-shattering as it may seem to you at this moment, I can certainly promise you it won't be the last time.”
Though his actions had not yet made her blush, his words did. Then when his hands reached into her armpits, it felt so personal and intimate that her blush deepened. When he moved down the tub slightly to soap her feet and legs, she was able to breathe again. However, that lasted only a moment, for without warning, Heath lathered his hands again and reached between her legs. Raven cried out her indignant protest, but it was too late.
“All done but the shouting, milady.” He winked outrageously and said, “If it will make you feel any better, I'll let you bathe me when your hands are healed.”
“When my hands are healed, I shall slap your face, Heath Kennedy!”
“Well, if I'm going to get my face slapped, I might as well do something to deserve it.” He waggled his soapy hands at her and laughed with delight when she shrieked.
“You wicked devil, you are enjoying this!”
He grinned at her. “The question begs: Are you?” His lips twitched. “You needn't answer if it makes you feel unladylike.”
“It makes me feel shameful!”
His teasing grin vanished as he bent toward her and looked deeply into her eyes. “I can read your thoughts, Raven. You don't feel the least shameful. You feel a little shy, slightly breathless, and a tiny bit afraid. But danger excites you, you told me so yourself.”
She licked her lips. “Am I in danger?”
“I hope so, Raven,” he murmured intensely. “I hope you are in danger of losing your heart.”
She did not dare to examine any feelings that concerned her heart, and quickly changed the subject. “You promised to wash the smell of smoke from my hair.”
“Let's do it before the water cools. Can you move down so that you can dip your head back into the water? Don't grab the edge of the tub; I'll ease you down.” Heath placed his strong hand at her back and lowered her very gradually until all her hair was submerged, then he eased her back up again. He lathered her hair thoroughly with the rose-scented soap, then brought the water jug and rinsed it. He wrapped a towel about her head in turban fashion, then bade her wrap her arms about his neck, so that he could lift her from the water.
She wound her arms about him and was acutely aware of where Heath put his arms. One was about her back, the other was beneath her knees, but she could feel her bare bottom cheeks brush against his flexed arm as he lifted her and set her down before the fire. Raven stood there helplessly as he wrapped her in a large towel and rubbed her vigorously. His fingers moved beneath the towel to unfasten the shirt buttons, then, holding the towel about her with one hand, he peeled the wet shirt from her body with the other hand. He then proceeded to dry her thoroughly.
He brought her bed robe and held it out for her. She turned her back demurely, allowing the towel to slip to her feet, while Heath wrapped her in the warm gown and gently pulled her bandaged hands through the sleeves. “What a team,” he murmured.
“You are my magic man,” she said breathlessly.
He raised her chin with his fingers until their eyes met. “Hocus pocus, fish bones choke us.”
A knock on the door was the maidservant with their supper. Barely above a whisper, Raven said, “I'm not really hungry. The pain is coming back.”
“I've been expecting it; we were lucky it stayed away this long. You must eat something, Raven, because I'm going to give you some poppy and licorice and it's not good on an empty stomach. Gradually it will take away your pain and put you into a sleep that will be mercifully deep.”
Raven decided she would try the mutton-and-barley broth, which Heath fed her one spoonful at a time. Then he built up the fire and brought the sleeping draught. He held the syrup of poppy to her lips and waited with endless patience until she took every drop. Then he picked up the hairbrush, sat down in a chair before the fire, and motioned for Raven to sit on the rug and rest her back against his knees. He unwrapped the towel from her head and began to brush her long, wet tresses.
Almost immediately the dancing blue flames of the fire, combined with the gentle stroking of the hairbrush, hypnotized Raven. The repetition of the long, firm strokes put her into a trancelike state where she had no will of her own. She wanted only to yield herself into his powerful, possessive hands all night. As she sat curled against his knees she gradually became euphoric, drifting in a warm sea of delicious sensation. She noticed absently that the pain in her hands had receded to a place apart, where it could not touch her, and she longed for Heath to go on brushing her hair forever. Her eyelids finally closed, she half turned toward him, gently lowered her head into his lap, and gave herself up to sleep and the wa
rm haven of Heath Kennedy's body.
He held absolutely still, savoring the trust she had placed in him. A pulse beat erratically in his throat because her soft cheek was pressed into his hard thigh. Each stroke of the brush through her silken black curls had aroused him further. It had been unbelievably erotic for the dark Borderer to brush Raven's hair as if he were her body servant. If she ever became his, how sensual it would be to play with her ebony tresses before he made love to her. There was no denying that she had craved his touch tonight.
Heath set the brush aside and stroked her shining hair with his callused hand. He was infinitely glad that she slept and could no longer feel any pain. “You enthrall me, my beauty. I never believed I would find a female as innocent and as lovely as you, but I was wrong. I want you for my woman, Raven. Tell me you feel the same.” He closed his eyes, crushing down the raging desire he felt to brand her as his. Tending her needs tonight had been a combination of the pleasures of paradise and the agonies of hell.
He carried her to the wide bed and gently covered her. He stood watch over her for a long time, savoring her delicate beauty. He marveled that one with such black hair could have skin like cream and roses. Her eyelashes formed crescent shadows on her high cheekbones, and her soft, pink mouth begged for a man's kisses. With difficulty, he moved away from the bed, then sat before the fire to eat his dinner. When he was finished, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to think of other things. But her presence cried out to him, tempting him, luring him, beckoning him back to the bed. Heath fought his desires valiantly, but he knew it was a losing battle, and finally he gave in to temptation and returned to her. He undressed slowly, quietly, then slipped into the bed and drew her against him with tender yet possessive hands.
The narcotic effects of the poppy not only induced Raven to sleep, they took her to a mystical place, where colors were brilliant, creatures were magical, and every sense was heightened. A ring of orange and yellow flames danced about her, but she was not afraid because Sultan was beside her, guarding her. She loved him so much, she cried, “Fly, save yourself!”
The Border Hostage Page 16
