She was silent, uncertain what to say. This man was her husband and it was therefore right and good that he should love her. Nor could she doubt his care and kindness. She must have been fortunate in this marriage. How had it come about? Had they married for love? She thought it a strong possibility. It wouldn’t be hard to love such a man.
He saw her confusion and squeezed her hand gently. ‘There will be a time to speak of such things later, when you’re stronger.’
She summoned a smile. ‘As you say.’
‘Do you still want that bath?’
‘Very much.’
‘I’ll come back when everything is prepared.’
* * *
He hauled the water himself and heated it in the bathhouse cauldron while a servant went to fetch soap and towels. The usual steam bath wouldn’t serve this time. Besides, a hot tub might enable Lara to relax and so feel better in which case it might help her memory to return. He tried not to think about the alternative. Eir had given back the physical form of the woman but their prayers had not specified anything else. Had the goddess taken them literally? Let her mind recover as well. Let me have all of her back again. Mixed up with that hope was guilt that his actions had helped to bring this situation about. He had given her the sword. He had taught her how to use it. Had he not done so, she would never have been hurt. Better that he had died than see her irreparably harmed.
He took a deep breath and mentally upbraided himself for negative thinking. She is going to recover. Look at the progress already made. Three days ago you could never have dreamed this much. Eir has been merciful and you should be grateful. All we need is time.
He finished preparing the bath and then returned to the sleeping quarters. On the way he bade the servants strip the linen sheets from the bed while his wife was bathing, and change them for clean ones. If she felt more comfortable it might aid her recovery. Then he went to collect Lara.
* * *
As Finn entered she looked up and smiled. How tall he was and how strong he looked. His presence seemed to fill the room.
‘Your bath is ready.’
‘Would you help me up?’
He drew back the fur covers. She saw then that she was wrapped in a blanket although it smelled slightly fusty. Beneath the blanket she was naked. Before she could decide what to do about that he bent and lifted her, blanket and all.
‘Allow me.’
Although she was taken aback, argument was impossible at that point. Part of her felt inclined to argue all the same. That part warred with the rest which knew she needed his help. It was just that he was so unsettling a presence; so overwhelmingly male. He was also used to being in charge. And to being obeyed. Probably she ought not to have been surprised, as he had an air of natural authority about him. It might not have been so disconcerting if he hadn’t made her feel gossamer light. Annoyingly it was hard to dislike the sensation.
Unaware of this inner conflict, he carried her to the bathhouse and heeled the door shut before setting her down by the tub. A glance around revealed towels, soap and comb set out nearby.
‘You seem to have thought of everything,’ she said.
‘I hope so. If not I’ll just have to fetch whatever is missing.’
‘I wouldn’t want to put you to further trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble.’
Under her puzzled gaze he stripped off his tunic and shirt and tossed them on to one of the wooden benches by the wall.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I don’t want to get my clothes wet.’
‘No, of course not.’ She paused. ‘I thought the bath was for me.’
‘It is for you.’
‘Then you mean to...’
‘Help you wash. Yes.’
‘No!’ Although he was her husband he was also a stranger, a physically imposing stranger whose semi-clad state was doing nothing for her composure whatever.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘I’ll bathe myself.’
‘You’ll never manage.’
‘I can try.’
‘But you won’t.’
The tone was quiet but uncompromising, like his expression now. Both bore out her earlier impression that he was used to taking charge. The implications made the bathhouse feel a lot warmer.
‘It isn’t decent.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You are my wife and I have seen you without your clothes on many occasions before.’
‘That may be so but I don’t remember.’
‘Perhaps it may come back to you.’
‘No.’ The notion of stripping off in front of this man was too much.
He sighed. ‘I tell you what. I’ll turn my back while you get into the tub. You can drape the blanket over it afterwards if you wish.’
She hesitated. The water looked tempting and the urge to be clean was strong. ‘Very well.’
He turned around. She threw him a swift glance to make sure he wasn’t watching and then stepped into the tub. Lowering herself into the water she draped the blanket across the edge so that the majority of her was concealed from view.
‘Can I turn around now?’
‘All right.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’
She pretended the question was rhetorical. ‘The water feels good.’
‘Soon you’ll feel even better,’ he replied. ‘Shall I help you wash your hair?’
It was tempting to refuse but common sense dictated that it would be easier with help. ‘Very well.’
He smiled faintly, and knelt beside the tub. ‘Lean forward a little.’
She complied and felt him draw her hair back over her shoulders. The light touch set her skin tingling. It was suddenly as though all her senses were sharpened, every last nerve ending aware of him.
He reached for a jug and poured warm water over her head until she was soaked. Then he lifted a small pot from beside the tub. From that he poured a little soapwort into his hand and applied it to her hair, rubbing gently, taking care to avoid direct contact with the site of the injury. His hands were strong and gentle, lightly massaging her scalp.
‘Am I hurting you at all?’
‘No.’ She paused and then, because silence was just too intimate, ‘How did I get so sticky and salty?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘True.’ He rinsed her hair and then began to wash it again. As he worked he told her the details of the ritual they had performed. ‘The gods heard us and you awakened.’
Astonishment began to displace awkwardness. ‘You did that for me?’
‘The idea originated with my sword brothers. It was they who fetched the spae-wife. To be honest I could hardly think at all by then because I was so afraid that I was going to lose you. I would have done anything to get you back.’
The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable. It was also humbling to think that he and his men should have undertaken to consult the spae-wife on her behalf.
‘I thank you, though it seems little enough to say in the circumstances. Such a rite must have been costly.’
‘Not nearly as costly as losing you would have been.’
Her heartbeat quickened a little. It seemed he really did care. Did not his actions show it? Surely theirs must have been a love match. It could not be otherwise. Why then should she feel so discomposed by him? He’s the kind of man who would make most women feel the same.
He rinsed her hair again and set the jug aside in favour of a cloth. He soaped it thoroughly and handed it to her.
‘Here. I’d offer to wash the rest of you but...’
Lara’s pulse quickened. ‘I can manage, I thank you.’
‘How did
I know you’d say that?’ He grinned and turned his back again.
Seizing her chance she set to work. Once or twice she glanced over her shoulder but Finn didn’t move. His behaviour was honourable even if his presence was disturbing. Would she have felt the same way about this situation if she hadn’t lost her memory or would she have accepted his offer? Had their relationship really been as intimate as his offer suggested? The possibility of being bathed by him created a flush of heat that was quite unrelated to the temperature of the water.
‘Are you all right?’
His voice jerked her out of thought. ‘Yes, perfectly.’
‘Relax for a while, then. It’ll do you good.’
He drew up a stool and sat down near the tub. Her gaze followed him. Even sitting down he was still an imposing figure. Too imposing by half. Did he know it? Did he have any idea of the effect he was having? How could he look so completely at ease?
She took a deep breath. ‘I need to ask you something.’
‘Ask.’
‘Was our marriage arranged or was it a love match?’
‘It was arranged. The rest followed.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘How long have we been married?’
‘Not long. A few weeks only.’
‘Ah. Were we...I mean are we...compatible you and I?’
‘Highly compatible,’ he replied.
‘Oh. That’s good, then.’ But it would be better if I could recall the details.
‘It’s very good.’ He smiled. ‘You’ll start to remember things soon enough. In the meantime why don’t you lean back and relax while I comb your hair?’
She knew now that he was to be trusted and so she obeyed and surrendered to the touch of his hands. He was careful, painstakingly teasing out the tangles, avoiding the injury, taking care not to pull or do anything that might cause pain or discomfort.
‘You’re very good at this,’ she observed. ‘Have you had a lot of practice?’
‘Not as much as I hope to.’
‘Hmm. Why do I have the feeling that I shall rediscover a very wicked streak in you?’
‘Because, unfortunately, it’s true. There is a wicked streak in me but it is capable of amendment. The process has already begun.’
‘What began it?’
‘I date it back to marriage with you.’
‘Oh? Am I a strict wife, then?’
‘No, you are a perfect wife and I would not change you.’
The words were like an echo but just a little too far away to hear properly. The more she reached for it the more it eluded her grasp. Nevertheless it pleased her to know that he valued her so highly. How had that come about? How had she managed to win this man?
He finished combing her hair and then rubbed it lightly with a linen towel. ‘Are you ready to get out now?’
She nodded. He reached for another linen sheet, opened it wide and held it up to provide a screen. She rose and wrapped it around her, conscious of the man just inches away. He extended a hand to steady her as she stepped out of the tub, a firm warm clasp that set her tingling.
‘Here. I don’t want you catching cold.’
He swathed her in the remaining towels and, having donned his shirt and tunic again, scooped her up and carried her back to the sleeping quarters. His nearness was still disturbing but at the same time protective. It just took a bit of getting used to, that was all.
On their return he found her a clean shift and turned his back while she put it on. Then he helped her back into bed. The servants had changed the old linen and the clean sheets smelled sweet and fresh. Lara was tired now but the overall feeling of well-being was wonderful. That was directly due to his efforts on her behalf.
‘Thank you, Finn.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled. ‘I think you should try to sleep for a while.’
‘I believe I shall.’
‘Good. I’ll bring you some more food later.’
He bent and kissed her cheek, a caress whose effect was out of all proportion to the lightness of his touch. With that he took his leave. Lara smiled and closed her eyes, her mind filled with him and a hundred unanswered questions.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn sat down on the old stump outside the barn. The hour in the bathhouse had been a test of self-control but he’d come through it. Lara was making real progress now and that part of the matter was an enormous relief. Her wariness around him was something different. It felt like they’d gone back to the early days of their relationship. Perhaps not all the way back, he decided, but far enough that he seemed a stranger to her. That hurt. He wanted to help, but not to force things to the point where she became upset and possibly alienated. For that reason he’d tried to adopt a casual and relaxed approach to the situation, giving what help she would accept and backing off when she wouldn’t, but the pretence had not been easy to maintain.
He reminded himself that it was only temporary. Very soon she would be well again, and very soon her memory would return. He wanted that, but dreaded it too. Her recovery would create a host of different problems because then he would have some serious explaining to do. He sighed. It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. He just had to hope she would understand and forgive him.
* * *
Lara slept a lot over the next few days but each time she woke she felt a little stronger. Before she departed, Gyrda had left some more of the herbal potion with Finn, along with instructions for its administration. He had been diligent in following them and ensuring that Lara took the medicine at the prescribed intervals. For all that it tasted bitter she had to admit it made a difference. The headache was gone. What remained was some tenderness at the site of the injury but that was growing less and would disappear eventually.
During her convalescence Finn had continued to sleep on the palliasse. He made no demands on her at all. At first it had been her concern that he might; he was her husband after all, and it was his right. However, the concern was unfounded. He made no move to touch her, much less force himself on her. Of course marital relations would recommence at some point and then it would be like starting again. She would have to relearn him, discover what pleased him. Without memory there were no points of reference. Again he had the advantage. All she had to go on was instinct. Would it be enough? In other respects instinct had served her well in this situation. It told her that he could be trusted; that he wouldn’t hurt her, and that she could believe what he told her. After all, his behaviour thus far had been honourable. He had been kind and patient, putting her needs above his own. She was fortunate to have married such a man.
Propping herself on one elbow she looked at the sleeping figure on the palliasse, studying him closely, tracing the contours of his face. A strikingly handsome face, especially in repose. Her gaze lingered on his mouth. He had kissed her cheek; memory had no trouble recalling that or how it made her feel. How would it feel if he kissed her properly, on the lips? How would it feel if he...?
Before the thought finished itself Finn opened his eyes and as their gazes met she saw his expression warm. It was almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking. That’s ridiculous. He couldn’t know. Could he? Then she saw him smile and it was hard to think at all.
He glanced at the space beside him. ‘Would you like to join me?’
* * *
Finn saw her hesitate but resisted the urge to say anything else. Nor did he move. Lara must come to him not the other way around. It must be her choice and freely made. Hardly daring to hope, he waited. Another dozen heartbeats passed and still she didn’t stir. She won’t come. It’s too soon. Even knowing that, disappointment was acute; more so than he could have anticipated. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting it. There’s plenty of time yet. Be patient. It’ll be worth the wait.
He was drawn from th
ought by a small sound from across the room. Instinctively he looked that way and then all thought deserted him as he saw Lara slide out of bed and cross the space between them. When his brain caught up he shifted across the palliasse to give her room and then drew back the edge of the blanket in invitation. Heart thumping he watched as she lowered herself on to the mattress and slid under the covers next to him.
As he gathered her close she turned to look at him, her expression enigmatic. Then, slowly, her lips brushed his. The contact sent heat flooding through him and he felt his body stir in response. It felt like a lifetime since she’d shared his bed and he’d missed her terribly, missed her warmth and the touch and taste of her. It was tempting to give passion free rein but he was too experienced to do it, knowing he must let her set the pace.
What followed both astonished and delighted him as it became evident that flesh had its own memory. Nor had her touch lost any of its power to arouse and excite. She took her time to relearn him, an unhurried sensual exploration that was a heady and thrilling combination of curiosity and eroticism.
He reciprocated, unhurried too, caressing, stroking, teasing, bringing her with him to the heart-stopping pleasure of mutual climax. Afterwards he held her, unwilling to relinquish her, knowing beyond doubt what she meant to him and how terrifyingly close he had come to losing her.
‘I love you, Lara. Never forget that.’
‘I won’t forget.’
‘Good. Not that I should allow it anyway.’
‘Ah, you would remind me often.’
‘Very often. And demonstrate it too.’
‘As you did just now?’ she asked.
‘In that and every other way I can. I would leave no room for doubt.’
‘How could I doubt it when you make such a convincing case?’
Finn kissed her gently by way of reply. He could only hope that she would continue to feel convinced.
* * *
When Lara woke she was alone and the quality of the light suggested that the hour was advanced. From the hall she could hear the sounds of the servants’ voices as they went about their tasks. It hadn’t been her intention to lie abed so long but there was something delightfully decadent about it all the same. She stretched lazily, filled with a sense of well-being. She had no problem recalling what had taken place earlier; her whole body resonated with it. She smiled to herself, warmed by the words of love he had spoken. There could be no doubting the strength of his feeling.
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