Free A Knight's Vow by Gayle Callen Page B

avoided earlier."
    He turned to pour himself another tankard of ale, seeming to take more time than was necessary. Isabel frantically scrubbed the rest of her body.
    "I am finished," she said loudly.
    Bolton turned around, swallowing a large amount of ale before speaking. He peered into the tub and sighed. "Angel, your hair-washing seems to have left the water considerably.. .soapy."
    "I am clean, am I not?"
    "But not rinsed." He rubbed his face almost tiredly. "I'll fill another bucket."
    She frowned, watching him suspiciously as he opened up the pipes and allowed steaming water to flow. "I don't understand."
    He seemed to square his shoulders before turning to face her. "Stand up, Angel, and I'll rinse you."
    Her eyes widened in comprehension and she instantly sank lower.
    Bolton shook his head. "Angel, I have seen a hundred women naked, including yourself. You are my wife. Stand up."
    She shivered, realizing forlornly that she could not remain in the rapidly cooling water forever. Let him try to touch her, and he would find her foot directly between his legs. Very slowly she rose, refusing to cower, refusing to submit. Let him look his fill.
    For a moment, neither of them moved. She was caught in his gaze as it swept her body, felt it like fingers caressing her skin. Never before had she shown herself like this to a man. It made her feel
    vulnerable, exposed—and something else, something warm like a summertime river moving through her blood.
    Then Bolton lifted the bucket and dumped it over her head. The hot water cascaded down her body, leaving scarlet trails of heat. As Isabel wiped the water from her face, she felt the rush of air past her skin. She opened her eyes in shock to find Bolton standing against the edge of the tub, his arms reaching around her. Before she could even fight, he looped a towel around her body, then gripped the ends snugly in his fists. She was held immobile by the heat of him, feeling the backs of his hands between her breasts. His gaze held her, burned deep inside her in a way that was frightening— fascinating.
    Isabel put her hands against his chest and pushed. He didn't even resist, just stepped away and let go of the towel. She caught it and wrapped it around herself. Once again, it did not quite wrap enough. And her hair still streamed wetness. He offered another towel and she stared at it.
    "For your hair," he said, impatience vibrating through his voice.
    She held her towel with one hand, and clumsily tried to dry her hair with the other, all while staring at her husband. For the first time she could see
    shadows beneath his eyes, and the stubble of a dark beard. If he was so tired, why couldn't he just leave her alone—or fall on her and be done with it. This terrible, waiting tension was rattling her more than an impending sword fight.
    He suddenly cursed, ripped the towel from her hand and began to scrub her hair with it. It was all she could do to stay covered and upright. She shoved him hard and he reeled back.
    "God damnit, woman, you are worse than a child in your ignorance!" he said. "You're a nobleman's daughter and you couldn't learn the basics of cleanliness?"
    Isabel wanted to shout that there was no one who cared, but she held her tongue. Showing such vulnerability would only make things worse.
    Bolton reached into a chest and threw a linen shirt at her. "Wear this. I'm not waking the household to find you nightclothes. There's a brush on that table. Use it, for heaven's sake."
    Then he poured himself more ale, sank down in a chair before the fire, and stared into it. While he wasn't looking, Isabel dropped the towel and pulled on his shirt, so fine she could see the shadows of her body through the cloth. She found the brush on a table beside the bed. She sat on a hard wooden chair in the corner, keeping the bed between them, and
    began to work the snarls from her hair. But she couldn't keep her hands from shaking. The night was far from over.
    Chapter 9
    As the ale