The Highlander's Touch

Page 68

Circenn crashed in and hit the floor. He rolled smoothly onto his back and sprang to his feet, hand on his sword, looking dazed. She realized he must have been sitting on the floor, leaning back against it, and when she’d opened it she’d taken him by surprise. He blinked several times, as if he’d fallen asleep in that position and been awakened abruptly. She was startled and touched: Had he been outside her room all this time?
He gazed down at her and they regarded each other silently. There were dark circles under his dark eyes, his face was lined with fatigue and worry, and the look he gave her was so tender and self-effacing that it made her catch her breath.
“A bath,” she said softly. “Might I have a bath?”
His smile was slow to form, but dazzling when it did. “Absolutely, lass. Wait right here. Doona move. I’ll see to the preparation myself.” He rushed out to fulfill her request.
* * *
“She wants a bath,” Circenn bellowed, barreling into the Greathall. He’d been waiting weeks for some spark of life. That she was aware of her body again meant she was slowly retreating from the dark place within, where she’d languished so long. He roared for the maids, who came at a run.
“Have hot water drawn immediately. And a meal. Send her all the tempting food you can find. And wine. Clothing! She must have clean clothing as well. See to my lady. She wants a bath!”
He smiled. By Dagda, the day was looking brighter already.
* * *
The last person Lisa would have imagined might slip into her chambers while she was bathing was Eirren. She’d indulged in a two-second fantasy that Circenn might come in uninvited, with seduction on his mind, but had quickly squashed that thought, obviously a leftover from the historical romances she’d devoured in lieu of a social life. Things like that didn’t really happen. What really happened was that small, mischievous children invaded. “What are you doing in here, Eirren?” She swished her hands in the water, trying to whisk up more bubbles to cover her breasts. When that failed, she placed her wash cloth atop them.
The rascal grinned broadly, waggling his brows in a comically lecherous expression.
“I didn’t even hear you open the door.” She sank lower in the tub.
“Ye were too engrossed in yer bath, lassie. I even knocked,” he lied. He moved swiftly to the hearth near Lisa.
“I hardly think this is appropriate,” she said. Then she regarded him thoughtfully “On second thought, it’s perfectly appropriate. You may use my bath when I’m done, and we’ll finally get you clean.”
Eirren grinned puckishly. “In order to do that, ye’ll have to be gettin’ out. For my first look at a naked lass, I’d even consent to washin’ meself. For a look at ye, I’d wash twice. Behind me ears, even.”
His grin faded as he took a seat on the stone base of the hearth. “Are ye feelin’ better, lassie? Ye’ve been in here a long time. I couldna help but hear grim gossip.”
Lisa was touched. “You were worried about me, weren’t you? That’s why you came today.”
“Aye, I was,” Eirren muttered. “And I dinna like it a bit. I overheard the men sayin’ ye really are from another time and ye discovered ye can never return.” He looked at her questioningly.
“That is so,” Lisa said sadly.
“Will ye be givin’ up on life, lassie?”
Lisa glanced at him sharply. “Sometimes you seem far older than thirteen, Eirren.”
He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Tis the way of this world. Children doona stay children long. We see too much.”
Lisa felt a flash of longing to shield his eyes, to ensure he never again glimpsed anything a child shouldn’t see. Then she caught him trying to peek beneath the water line. “Stop that!” She splashed water at him.
He laughed and wiped his face gamely. “‘Tis natural. I’m a lad. But I’ll be lookin’ out yon window if it makes ye feel better.”
She smiled, watching him lift his chin and turn his face toward the window, making quite a production of it. He was such a melodramatic boy.
“Will ye be wedding the laird?” he asked after a moment.
Lisa’s brows lifted as she pondered that. A shiver skittered up her spine. She could not return home. This was her life. What would Catherine want her to make of it? Lisa knew the answer to that. Catherine would have fussed and cosseted and dressed Lisa in the finest wedding gown, pushed her into bed with the brawny Highlander, and hovered outside the door to ascertain that Lisa made appropriately satisfied honeymoon sounds.