He stretched his arms over his head. The muscles in his back and shoulders flexed, drawing her attention to several dark, intricate designs on the smooth flesh of his shoulders and upper arms.
They appeared to be drawn upon his skin. She’d never seen such a thing—what could they be?
Padrig began to slowly walk away from her, toward the other side of the narrow pool. Startled from her fascination, Alys knew she should do something to make him aware of her presence, but instead she lingered at the edge of the forest, motionless and silent, to savor this unexpected pleasure for as long as possible.
Padrig’s lips curled in a smile as Alys continued to lurk near the water on the other side of the pond. Her startled gasp when she’d seen him would have given her away even if he hadn’t already heard her moving through the trees lining the path. He should have spoken, or shifted deeper into the water once he’d known she was there, but he couldn’t resist the provocation to tease her.
How far could he go, he wondered, before she’d do something to let him know she was there?
He stretched his arms skyward and took another step away from Alys and closer to the far edge of the pool. He had to fight the temptation to turn around, to see the expression on her face as she watched him. He could feel her eyes upon him, the intensity of her gaze nigh a physical caress over his flesh.
A caress that was causing an all-too-real reaction, he noted wryly. Mayhap he’d better move into deeper water after all; he didn’t need to have her run screaming back toward their campsite, sending her maid into a tizzy and his men scrambling to protect her.
But what if she didn’t react that way? For all he knew, she might even now be removing her own clothing to join him in the water….
Closing his eyes for a moment against the yearning that image brought to mind, he reluctantly shifted his thoughts instead to Lord Rannulf’s reaction should Padrig take such base advantage of a young lady in his care.
Jesu, had lust unbalanced his mind? Lady Alys was a noblewoman—a virgin, he had no doubt.
If Lord Rannulf didn’t have his head for such insolence—or some other part of him a bit lower, he thought with a chuckle—the lady’s father would certainly take exception should Padrig attempt to steal her innocence.
Pah, as if Lady Alys would want the likes of him anyway!
Though her continued silence did make him wonder what she was about.
Unable to resist one last taunt, Padrig took a step back, until the water covered him to just above his hips, and turned.
“Can I help you with something, milady?” he asked evenly. ’Twas difficult to maintain a neutral air once he saw Alys, however. The mere sight of her sleep-tousled hair, combined with the way the soft fabric of her gown clung to her lissome form, sent his body into instant rebellion against his strength of will. The expression on her face—soft, curious, her gaze intense as it grazed over him—was impossible to ignore. Despite his attempt at restraint, he could not suppress an equally heated response.
He moved deeper into the water at once, lest he flaunt his reaction to her; he’d no wish to embarrass her or himself.
She wet her lips with her tongue and raised her hand to smooth down her dark chestnut hair, a tide of color tinting her cheeks. “Nay, sir,” she replied, her gaze meeting his with a hint of challenge. “I was simply curious. I wished to explore a bit before we resume our journey.”
“And was your curiosity satisfied, milady?” he asked.
Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Not yet, Sir Padrig.” She moved closer to the water’s edge. “Though I believe if I’m patient enough it will be.”
Padrig drew in a deep breath and reminded himself she was an innocent maiden who didn’t realize how her actions and words might be interpreted. Though he willed himself to cool down, his body would not obey. ’Twas a miracle the water around him hadn’t begun to boil from the heat pouring through him!
How could he make her leave?
“’Tis said that patience is a virtue, milady. I’ve no doubt you’re a virtuous lass—”
“’Tis also said that virtue is its own reward,” she pointed out. She stepped onto the rock-strewn rim of the pool, her bare feet shifting on the slippery stones. “I’m not certain I believe ’tis true, though. Have you ever noticed that the most virtuous people you meet seem the least happy?”
Aye, he could not disagree with that. He closed his eyes for a moment as memories swept through him. His own mother, Lord rest her, had been an intensely virtuous woman—yet to her, life had been a constant misery of disappointment and sorrow. No one and nothing could ever meet her standards; he’d stopped trying when he’d scarce the years or wisdom to understand the impossibility of it. Only by the grace of God—and his cousin Lady Catrin—had he escaped that torment.
He’d often wondered, in the years since his mother’s death, if she’d simply died of frustration that the world fell short of her measure.
While he’d been momentarily lost in the shadows of the past, Lady Alys had made her way around the pond. Her gown hiked up to her knees, she waded through the shallows, her face alight and her lips curled into a winsome smile that set his heartbeat racing.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. By the rood, but he wished he were dressed! He felt at a distinct disadvantage, trapped here in the water while Lady Alys, all unknowing, tempted him nigh beyond endurance. The gauzy fabric of her gown—naught more than her undertunic, he’d vow—clung to her where she’d got it wet, the thin material outlining her curves and heating his blood further.
His mouth dry, his mind numb, Padrig sought in vain for the words to deliver himself from this situation. In her innocent dishabille Lady Alys was seduction personified; now that he’d seen her thus, he doubted he’d ever again be able to treat her with the deference a lady of her station deserved.
“The water is so soothing,” she said, ignoring his question.
Soothing? Was she mad?
He drew in a deep breath. There was nothing soothing about the look in her eyes—no, nor little of the innocent, either, he noted.
His pulse thrummed harder. Damn the woman! She knew precisely the effect she was causing, he’d warrant.
Damn him, for finding that truth so exciting. He took a step back, in the futile hope of hiding his rampaging body.
“Lady Alys—” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.
“Aye, Sir Padrig?” she asked, her tone light with merriment as she followed him. “Was there something you wanted of me?”
He bit back a groan. “Go back to the camp,” he said flatly.
The glow of mirth brightening her eyes faded, replaced by embarrassment. A bright tide of pink swept up her face and she looked away from him.
“Milady—” He’d not meant to upset her, only to bring a halt to her teasing before it went too far.
Her shoulders set in a rigid line, Lady Alys spun on her heel, lost her footing, and, letting out a shriek, came tumbling into Padrig’s arms.
Chapter Two
Padrig caught her as she fell backwards. She barely even touched the water—a testament to his knightly prowess, no doubt. Whatever the reason, Alys was glad of it, for in spite of her taunting prowl through the pool, she’d no desire to immerse herself completely.
He gathered her close and hiked her up into his arms. She gasped at the touch of his wet flesh, for despite the icy water and the slight breeze wafting gently over them, Padrig’s fiery skin smoldered through the linen of her gown as though the fabric didn’t exist. Hot, firm muscles lightly dusted