Free Lion's Bride by Iris Johansen

exasperation. She felt as if she had tried to stop the flow of a river by standing in its path. Jasmine’s sudden reversal in attitude was just as bewildering as everything else at Dundragon.
    Well, at least Jasmine would not hinder her today. Heaven knew if she would change her mind again tomorrow. Thea turned and ran up the steps to find the unguents.
             
    Ware was already in the tub when Thea came into his chamber. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on the high back of the tub.
    Kadar, sitting cross-legged on the hearth across the room, smiled at her. “Caution. His temper is not good. If you don’t please him, he’ll probably drown you.”
    “I’ve never seen him when his temper was good.” She came brusquely forward, set the salves and unguents on the floor, and moved a stool beside the tub. “So I’ve nothing with which to compare.” She tossed a handful of sweet-smelling leaves into the water. “But at least he will have a pleasant scent.”
    “Go away,” Ware said, without opening his eyes. “I have servants aplenty to bathe me.”
    “You may bathe yourself. That’s not why I’m here.” She sat down on the stool and poured oil into her palms. “This will hurt at first.”
    Kadar instantly rose to his feet. “I think I’ll go order supper brought up. I detest the sound of screams.”
    “Coward,” Ware said.
    “Sage,” Kadar corrected as he left the room.
    Thea’s fingers dug into the bunched muscles of Ware’s neck.
    “Ouch!” He tried to turn his head to glare at her.
    “Stay still.” Her fingers dug deeper. “The muscles will ease presently.”
    “Presently?” He flinched. “You’re trying to torture me.”
    “If I were trying to torture you, I’d leave you with these knots. Now be silent and let me work.”
    “I’ll have bruises tomorrow.”
    “They won’t last. I had bruises when I woke yesterday, and today they’re fading.”
    “Bruises? Where?”
    “My shoulders. You were not gentle the night you found me.”
    He scowled. “I think you mean to make me feel guilt. I saw no bruises.”
    Heat rushed through her as she remembered that insolent glance. “You weren’t looking at my shoulders.”
    He was silent a long time. “No, I wasn’t. I was looking at your—Christ! Do you have a dagger back there? That felt like a knife thrust.”
    “Good. The pain must come before the easing.”
    “Are you sure you’re not just exacting vengeance?”
    “I would not do that.” But she had to admit it gave her a certain amount of pleasure to have him helpless in her hands. “I believe in the payment of debts. You did me a great service. I must repay you.”
    He gasped as another twinge of agony shot through him. “By trying to drive me mad with pain?”
    “No, I told you that I would make you a gift. A tunic with embroidery so beautiful that it will stun everyone who sees it.”
    “Keep your gift. I’m a plain man. I would never wear such a garment.”
    She thought about it. “Then I’ll make you a banner. A warrior should have his own banner. What design should I embroider on it? A falcon?”
    “It doesn’t matter. Save your efforts. I fight for gold, not glory.”
    “A banner,” she said firmly. “And every knight in Christendom will envy you.”
    “Then they would be fools,” he said with sudden violence. “I’m not a man to be envied.”
    She paused in midmotion and then resumed kneading. “You are rich. You have a fine castle. Surely there are many who would envy you.”
    He was silent.
    “Well, at any rate, they’ll envy you your banner.”
    His muscles relaxed a trifle. “You’re certain you can create something so wondrous?”
    “Of course.”
    He chuckled. “I should not have left you alone with Kadar. He, too, believes he can work miracles.”
    “Not miracles. I just do splendid work.” The muscles of his neck were loosening, so she lessened the pressure. “And one should not be modest about one’s work. Someone