When she raised her gaze to look at his face she felt even more mortified. There was only horror in those blue depths as he stared at the raised red abrasions that ran from knee to thigh.
His gaze came back to her face, his voice hoarse as he said, “Forgive me.”
She shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive.”
Slowly Christian dipped his fingers into the bowl. His gaze met hers again and he whispered, “I will try not to hurt you.”
She gritted her teeth and said, “Pray go on. Lest you have no heart for it?”
A muscle flexed in his lean jaw. “I have the heart for it well enough.” Then, with a deep breath, he reached out and with infinite care began to slather the mixture over the wounds.
The contact of that cooling medicament on the painful flesh was so indescribably sweet that Rowena could not withhold the sigh of relief that emerged from her lips. Her head fell back and she went limp. Unfortunately, that reaction began to change as Christian’s gentle but firm fingers traced their way farther up the inner parts of her legs. She began to note that in spite of the coolness of the paste, his fingers were warm, and where they touched her skin she felt a strange and pleasurable tingling.
Her gaze flew to his face, and she saw that he seemed intent on nothing more than applying the salve. Rowena closed her eyes, shamed anew at her reaction. Yet as Christian went on, the sensations continued, and the trembling in her body became more pronounced. A honeyed warmth pooled in her lower belly and her heartbeat quickened to a thrum.
She soon realized that the pain, which had seemed nearly unbearable, had become a distant irritation at the back of her mind. Rowena turned her face to the fragrant boughs and breathed through slightly parted lips as her limbs grew weaker and weaker and the delight in her belly spread downward.
And even as she reveled in these sensations she could only be grateful that the knight had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. But when his gentle fingers brushed against the upper regions of her inner thighs, Rowena could not seem to restrain a restless movement of her hips.
Immediately, Christian’s touch ceased. “Have I hurt you?” he asked in a barely recognizable voice.
Rowena opened her eyes, praying with all her might that he would not be able to read the truth. But even as she said “Nay,” she noted the way he wiped at a line of perspiration above his mouth with the back of his hand. The same hand he had been using to apply the cream to her legs.
Her gaze skittered away from his and back. “I…the pain is much improved. Mayhap you have put on enough.”
He swallowed hard, looking down into the bowl with rapt concentration. “Fair enough, then. There will be more than sufficient should you need further applications.”
She forced a smile, though he was not looking at her. “That is good. I…think it would be well if I were to rest now.”
Hurriedly he stood. “Aye. I will…tend to my horse.”
With that he moved off, taking the bowl with him. She watched as he reached out to take the reins of the animal from the tree limb to which he had tied it, then halted, looking down at the bowl in his hands as if he did not know how it had gotten there.
Rowena could not fathom this apparent agitation. Unless…? Was it possible? Could he, too, feel…?
He moved back to her, holding out the bowl at arm’s length. “I am going to water Gideon. I will leave this with you.”
As she took it, being careful not to come into contact with those all too distracting fingers, he said, “Use as much as you will. I would happily gather more of whatever is required if that will help us be on our way.”
Although she knew it was ridiculous, Rowena felt a rush of disappointment. She lowered her head. “I should not have come. This is all for naught. It is a waste of your effort and mine.”
His powerful body stiffened from head to toe. “You are not saying that you wish to return to Ashcroft already?”
She raised her chin. “Surely even you can see that it has become more complicated than either of us expected.”
He looked out into the surrounding forest, his face set.
She frowned. “When I said I would accompany you I had no notion of the difficulty I would cause. After all this effort to deliver me to Avington you will surely be disappointed when I ask you to take me home.”
“If that day comes you must allow me to be responsible for my own disappointment.” Without another word he strode away, taking the horse toward the stream. In spite of the fact that she did not doubt the sincerity of his regret at her infirmity, she could not help realizing anew that its greatest import as far as he was concerned was that it hindered their journey.
Rowena told herself that her distress was completely unwarranted. What other reason could there be for his agitation?
Christian did not put any more of the cream on Rowena’s legs. Even though they stayed beside the stream for what remained of that day and the next, he did not so much as offer to touch her again.
Yet every time he recalled how deeply and erotically he had been moved by applying that salve, a service that had begun so very innocently, he was hard-pressed to control his own reactions. But it was the feeling, however mad and impossible, that Rowena had responded to his ministrations in an intimate way that completely unsettled him.
The way she had shifted her hips, the flush on her delicate cheekbones…
Nay, it was not credible. He simply saw what he wished to see because he had been driven to the point of near madness by what he was doing—by the thought that her legs, though marred by her injury, were long and perfectly formed, that they could wrap about a man’s waist…
’Twas far worse even than the visions he had suffered after kissing her. Those he had been able keep under control, except at night when alone in the darkness. Then he was hard-pressed to believe his self-assurances that he had only been trying to comfort her.
He groaned in frustration as he splashed cold water from the stream over his face and torso. It was their third morning in this camp and he had risen from his bed as soon as there was sufficient light to mark his path. He was fully conscious of the sleeping Rowena as he left camp, his unwilling gaze lingering on the gentle outline of her body beneath the fur.
He was more than anxious to be on their way to Avington. There he would have not only the familiarity of his life, but the presence of his friends to remind him of what he was trying to do here. He intended to prove that Rowena was The Dragon’s daughter, not to become involved with her.
He was bound by duty and honor to go home and help his aging father.
Knowing that nothing could be gained by lingering over his morning ablutions, Christian rose and went back to the camp. When he arrived he was surprised to find Rowena not only awake, but standing. As he watched, she bent and began to roll up her bed.
He went toward her quickly. “What are you doing?”
She did not meet his gaze as she continued. “Preparing to leave this place.”
“But you are not…”
Her eyes met his then and there was stubborn determination in those mossy-green depths. “I am well enough to travel. If I were not, I would not keep it from you, for to do so would only cause further delays.”
He frowned. How could he argue?
She finished rolling the fur and pointed toward Gideon. “However, I shall not ride astride.”
He nodded. “I will take you up before me in the saddle.” Though the images this thought created were far from calming.
He could not help but hear the horror in her tone, nor could he ignore the fact that she took a step backward. “Nay, I will sit behind.”
“But you will not be able to stay mounted unless you ride astride.”
She faced him squarely. “I will hold on.”
There was nothing more to say. She was adamant, and he was not of a bent to argue. Yet even though he was relieved that he would not be required to travel with the distraction of Rowena draped across his lap, he
felt unaccountably annoyed that she was so excessively reluctant to be held by him.
Did Rowena know how very close he had come to losing control as he had spread salve on her poor raw legs? No matter that he had reminded himself time and time again that she was hurt and in pain, he had responded to the sight of their slender length like an untried lad. Their velvety softness had awakened cravings he was hard-pressed to control.
He had done so by reminding himself that only the veriest knave would act upon his desire with her in such a state.
He swung about without another word, readying his own belongings with undue concentration. When their fast had been broken and their few supplies gathered a surprisingly short time later, he spoke in as even a tone as he could. “Are you ready, then?”
She looked up from brushing crumbs of the bread Christian had brought from a nearby farm from the skirt of her gown. “I am.” She stood and came toward where he was holding the reins of the stallion.
Christian could see no hint of concern in those lovely eyes.
So be it. He could be as unmoved as she. He nodded and swung up into the saddle. When he held out his hand, she took it without hesitation and swung up behind him, saying, “Please give me a moment before you start.”
“Of course.” He held the stallion very very still as she settled herself against his back, wrapping one arm about his waist. Not marking this intimate contact other than to lift an ironic brow, he waited.
Finally she said, “I am ready.”
Christian nudged the stallion forward with a gentle pressure on his ribs. Only when he noted that Rowena indeed seemed to have a fairly stable seat did he urge him to a slightly faster pace.
But not too much faster.
Christian was only slightly frustrated at their speed, for at least they were moving forward. Anything was an improvement over the last two days with nothing to occupy him but his own disturbing thoughts. Even the sweet torment of her arm about him, the gentle weight of her slender form against his back, was preferable to that.
Chapter Eight
The next days passed in a blur for Rowena. The abrasions on her legs were better, as she had said, but other portions of her anatomy were just as unaccustomed to riding. She fell upon her bedroll each night, barely able to consume what food the knight presented to her beforehand.
If she had the energy to be grateful, Rowena would have been so. She wanted to think of nothing, not about her own uncertainty about agreeing to accompany Christian to England, nor about her unwanted and unexplainable attraction to him.
She knew that Christian Greatham did not feel the same toward her. He wanted nothing more from her than that she prove to be Rosalind of Dragonwick.
Yet by the fourth day of travel, Rowena’s determination to set aside the attraction that had surfaced with such intensity was wearing thin. With each hour that passed she thought more and more about things other than her sore posterior, her aching arms and lower back.
She had become increasingly aware of the hardness of Christian’s belly beneath her hands whenever she had to hold on tightly, of the solid and masculine strength of his back. She sometimes found herself breathing deeply of the warmth, fresh air and sweat of him, catching herself to keep from sighing aloud, the scent seeming to make her feel languid and agitated at one and the same time.
She wanted to lie against him, to experience the feel of his hard body against hers as she had when he had kissed her.
Although Christian had been nothing but kind to her during the past days, his eyes troubled as he asked her how she was faring each time they halted, she knew that he was not enjoying the ride, either. It was apparent in the rigid line of his back and the stiffening in his body each time her tired arms slipped lower on his waist.
Could he be regretting his decision to bring her? Had some doubt about her being The Dragon’s daughter entered his mind?
The tension in him was more than obvious as he briefly glanced around on the fourth afternoon and said, “We are coming to a village. Please pull your hood up.”
She was surprised not only by the request but by the fact that he meant to go through a town. One of the few pieces of information he had volunteered was that he was deliberately skirting such places, as they had no military escort.
Rowena drew her hood up close about her face even as she said, “Why do you go there if you expect trouble?”
He shrugged. “I mean to buy supplies, and ’twould be some distance to come back from where I wish to make camp. And pray have no fear, I do not expect trouble. I simply prefer to be cautious when traveling with a woman with a face such as yours.”
Surprise made her blunt. “What mean you, a face such as mine?”
He glanced back again, his gaze moving over her features, then away. His voice was without inflection as he stated, “You are easily the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon, Rowena. There are those who would not be above attacking one lone knight to possess you.”
So amazed was she by this pronouncement, no matter how calmly it had been said, that she was left utterly mute. Christian thought she was beautiful?
“Pray do as I say and do not show your face more than you need to,” he pressed.
“Aye,” Rowena murmured, pulling her hood more closely about her face, wishing she could summon even a trace of irritation at his autocratic manner. But the warmth of knowing he found her beautiful prevented it, even though she knew the words really meant nothing. He had told her with his own mouth that he was not interested in her, right after he’d kissed her.
Still, as they halted some time later, she found herself watching him surreptitiously.
Christian went about the work of readying their camp for the night with quiet efficiency. Just as, she realized, he must have done on each of the previous evenings, when she’d been too sore and exhausted to take notice.
Guilt made her flush and move forward when he began to spread her bedroll upon the ground. “Please, I—I will do that for myself.”
Seeming to be roused from some distracting thoughts of his own, he straightened and met her gaze distractedly. “It is nothing.”
She frowned up at him. “It is something. I am not accustomed to having others dance attendance upon me. I will not trouble you to do so.”
First scowling, then arching his dark brows, he bowed and handed her the bedroll, before going to take the makings of the evening meal from his pack. She had the uncomfortable impression that she had somehow offended him.
Yet she could not fathom why. She was only trying to prevent him from continuing to extend himself on her behalf. Holding her head high, Rowena made her bed. Yet as she did so she couldn’t help wondering if her desire to look after herself was because she had always done so. Or could it be due to her discomfort with Christian in particular caring for her? Especially when an offhand comment that he found her beautiful could move her so.
When she began to gather wood for the fire he said nothing. He simply used it to get a cheery blaze going.
When they had finished the bread and cheese he removed from his packs, she sighed, running her hands through the gritty hair at her forehead.
Biting her lip, she looked across the fire at Christian. “I…” She raised her head, feeling foolish at this hesitancy. “I would like to wash.”
He seemed somewhat vexed for a moment, before nodding. “Of course, I should have considered it myself.”
His reply made Rowena shrug. “You are not responsible for me.”
The firelight flickered over those strong lean features as he watched her without answering. Feeling very self-conscious, she asked, “Where did you water the horse?”
He stood. “Come.”
She stood in turn. “One moment.” Quickly she went to her bag and removed soap and the only other garment she had brought. It was a shift of fine white wool, identical to the one she wore.
She then followed as he led her a short distance to a pond. The dimming light made it difficult
to determine its source, but the water did not smell stagnant.
Rowena glanced back toward the camp. Though it was not far, the few trees and the pond’s slightly lower elevation might afford her some measure of privacy.
She looked up at Christian, her gaze trained on his hard chin. “You have my thanks. I will return anon.”
“You will have a care?”
She nodded. “I can swim. If aught was to happen you will be within hearing.”
He took a quick breath and nodded, before striding away.
Only when she had given the knight more than sufficient time to return to their fire did Rowena begin to disrobe. But it was not until she had slipped into the water, wading in far enough to cover her shoulders, that she began to feel the least bit secure.
With that feeling of security came a great enthusiasm for ridding herself of the grime of the road. Her hair she left for last, working diligently to cleanse it. Though it took several applications of soap to make a lather in the tangled mass, she finally succeeded, closing her eyes as she leaned back to rinse.
She was standing with her head tilted back when she felt something slithery and very definitely alive brush against her leg. A shrill shriek of shock and fear issued from her throat before she could even think to stop it.
There was no doubt the creature was a snake. Snakes were the only animals that frightened her. They had for as long as she could recall, even invading her nightmares as a child.
Still shrieking, and breathing as if she had run a thousand miles, Rowena started toward the bank. The water, clogged with vegetation, hindered her frantic efforts to escape from what she now saw as a serpent’s lair. It seemed to cling, to drag at her limbs and hair.
She had not yet reached the shore when Christian came crashing into the pond toward her. “Dear God, what is it?”
Driven by her terror and panic to get out of the water, Rowena splashed toward him, sobbing, “Sn-sn…”
Only when his hands closed on her shoulders did she come to her senses enough to see the fear in his eyes, as he said again, “What is it?”
She shuddered, wrapping her arms about him, clinging to his strength and protection. “Sn-sn-snake.”
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