A Knight for Love (5 page)

“Aye? You
’ve been in Warin’s company for some time then?”

Alyna shook her head. “Only since yesterday.” Barely one day ha
d passed in his company. It seemed much longer. She followed Ada’s lead and poured a pot of warmed water into the tub.

“Warin must be greatly taken with you if he has
taken you into his protection. He’s a good man.” Ada finished pouring her bucket of water into the tub and gestured to Alyna. “Come, Alan, it’s only half full. We’re not finished.”

Alyna trailed behind Ada as they tromped their way back and forth
to the river several times more to refill their buckets. The other woman said no more, and for that Alyna was grateful. Apparently Ada respected her reticence and had chosen not to pursue her questioning any further.

Finally, all was in readiness. A stack of linens and a chunk of lye soap had been laid out on the stool beside the wash tub, the coals stoked, and a handful of dried lavender sprinkled in the tub before Ada took herself from the room.

“I shall fetch Warin,” Ada said as she left. “You may begin adding hot water. Not too quickly, mind, for it must be to his liking.”

Alyna watched her go with a sinking heart. She’d had time with Ada, she could have told her the truth but instead, she’d decided to stick to her charade. Now she had no choice but to help Warin.

Her heart began to beat a little faster
, her breath quickened. She had never seen a naked man. Nay, untrue, she had spotted her father several times whilst a young girl, but that was her father. Warin was a young man, virile and vibrant, a warrior in his prime. It wasn’t proper for her to be here alone in his company but how could she free herself from the situation?

Before she could
come up with anything, he walked in the door carrying his saddlebags. He tossed them off to one side.

The door swung shut behind him
, trapping Alyna. She threw a frantic glance towards the window slit, too narrow for even her slender frame. Defeated, she turned to face him. She pasted a flimsy smile on her face and squared her shoulders, girding herself for the coming ordeal.

He was relaxed, smiling from the last jest he had tossed over his shoulder to Ada. So tall that his head almost brushed the thatching, his presence dominated the room, spilling into the corners until it seemed even the shadows there took on his aura.
Of his eyes she saw naught but the fire gave enough light to see the planed cheeks that gave him such a mysterious air.

Her heart began to race, the beats chasing one another in a panicked flurry
leaving her breathless. Nerves tickled her belly and she hoped she wouldn’t lose her supper. She wanted to say something, some jest, anything to lighten the air but her mouth refused to work.

And deep down inside, some part of her wanted to see him naked, wanted to trail her fingers on the burnished skin, wanted to caress the muscles that bulged against his clothing.

Warin didn’t seem to notice her silence. “Aye, I’m sore and weary from the mail for one never entirely becomes accustomed to wearing it. We begin here.” He motioned her over to stand beside him. “Grab the back at the bottom edge and at the neck and pull.” He twisted around and pointed. “Here, you grab here.” He put his arms up, leaned over from the waist and hopped forward. “Now, pull.”

B
y the time Alyna realized what Warin had requested of her, he had hopped several more times across the floor with the mail sliding off a little more each time further down his arms and over his head. She sidled over to him and managed to grab the neck and hem of the hauberk, wrestling with it a bit then staggering back a few steps with the weight before losing her balance and plopping down unceremoniously on her behind.

“Ooof!”
she grunted. The mail lay on her lap, spilling over onto the floor beside her.

Warin scowled at her. “You must take care
– the links can easily be damaged.”

And what of me
, fumed Alyna, bottom stinging with her abrupt contact with the ground. She glared at him before scrabbling to her feet, hauberk cradled awkwardly in her arms. She stood there feeling somewhat useless until Warin plucked it from her and laid it on the table.

“I will show you how to clean it another time.”

Wonderful, Alyna thought caustically, rubbing her injured backside. She held her silence, watching as Warin rubbed his neck and shoulders before stretching up as far as the shallow ceiling would allow.

He stood before her in his
stained underclothing. The padding over the shoulders that held the mail away from his skin had compressed and he fingered it ruefully.

“
It’s difficult to replace. For me, that is,” he corrected himself hastily.

“One skilled with thread and needle would find it no hardship,” replied Alyna.

“What am I to know of such arts?” He glanced at her face, then down at her fingers. “You, Alan, could be taught to sew, for your fingers are slender and supple and would wield a needle as easily as I wield a sword.”

“As you wish.” She lowered her head to hide the grin
on her lips. Sew, of course she could sew, and better than most, thanks to hours spent with needle and thread. However, she couldn’t tell him without revealing herself. How disturbing to realize his approval of her skill was important to her.

“It is not only that which I wish, Alan, you must wish to learn as well.”
Irritation colored Warin’s words.

“Of course,”
she blurted.

“Never mind,” he sighed. “I am weary as no doubt are you and to stand here in dispute at this moment accomplishes naught.”

He stripped off his clothing, leaving it in a pile at his feet and stepped into the tub, lowering himself carefully as if the movements pained him. Another sigh escaped him, this one of pleasure and not of exasperation as the previous one had been.

“More hot water, Alan,” he commanded, hunching his shoulders over his knees to allow the water to cascade unhindered over his back.

Alyna, who had kept her gaze lowered for the past few moments as he disrobed, scurried around the hearth to pick up one of the pots. She averted her eyes until she stood behind him then forced her gaze down so she could tip the pot. The liquid cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, silver rivulets that fascinated her as it flowed over the skin, smooth and still carrying traces of the Palestinian sun.

“Again, if you please
,” he murmured, eyes half closed.

A
lyna obliged, upending the pot to empty it before sidling round the tub to grab another one from the hearth. Warin lifted his shoulders in pleasure as more scented water whispered over his skin then hung his head forward.

“A cloth, Alan.” One
muscled arm lifted languidly and pointed towards the stool. “And the soap.”

“Aye.” Alyna
pawed for the items behind her while keeping her face twisted away from Warin. Her neck began to spasm in protest but she ignored it. As much as she wanted to look, it was better if she, an unmarried maiden in a compromising situation, avoided the tempting sight.

“You may begin.” Warin rested his chin on his knees again, obviously intending Alyna
to start with his back.

“As you wish, my lord, that is, of course, Warin,” stammered Alyna.

She lathered up the cloth with the soap and smoothed it over his shoulders. A thick scar, white and puckered, crossed his lower back. She resisted the urge to follow its path as it disappeared around his left side, concentrating instead on rubbing along his spine.

“Now the front.”
Warin leaned back against the lip of the tub.

His eyes were shut, a blissful expression curved his lips. Alyna frowned. How could he be so relaxed when her nerves made a jumbled mass in her stomach
and made her feel faint?

Annoyed at herself
, she again lathered up the cloth until it frothed with bubbles before tackling the broad chest. Red welts sprinkled the skin, evidence of an uncomfortable night recently spent. Mayhap the water would ease the itch somewhat and she scrubbed the offending spots.

“Aahhhhhh.”
His heartfelt sigh mingled with the lavender-scented steam swirling from the bath water until both disappeared in the thatched murk above.

“
‘Tis to your liking?” Alyna choked out the words. She had no desire to talk however she feared he might find her continued silence strange.

“Indeed,” came the heartfelt reply. Then he added, in an apparent fit of generosity, “You may bathe afterwards, Alan.”

“No!” The single syllable pierced the gloom.

Warin
furrowed his brow in obvious puzzlement at the vehement response, although his eyes remained closed. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I thought perhaps you would wish to wash the journey from your bones.”

“I beg your understanding but I cannot accept your kind offer because
….” Alyna thought frantically for a reasonable explanation. “…er, because I bathed two weeks past.”

“The citizens of the Holy Land bathe frequently,” he observed. “Truly, it
’s a habit to be admired and emulated, not reviled.”

“Not for me,”
she muttered.

“Very well
,” Warin shrugged. He opened his eyes and tapped her arm. “Your sleeves are wet, you may wish to roll them up.”

Alyna
twitched away from him, dropping the soap into the cloudy water of the tub. “No, I’m fine, truly.”

Warin cocked his head. “What plagues you, Alan? Have you not been in the company of other men? There
’s naught here to shame you.”

“N-Naught plagues me
. I’m simply not used to washing another.”

Alyna
screwed up her courage and started fishing around the bony shins for the soap. Nothing.

She
reluctantly slid her hand along the bottom of the tub, towards Warin’s firm buttocks. Her hand brushed his hip and the contact sent a surge of fire up her arm. She jerked her hand away, bumping her elbow in the process.

Still nothing. Changing direction, she moved her hand back towards
his ankles. Her face grew hotter and sweat prickled her forehead. By the Virgin Mary, where was it?

“Here.” Warin grab
bed her elbow and placed the slippery chunk in her hand. He had evidently taken pity on her discomfort and sought to aid her.

“I thank you.” She closed her fingers around the soap, too quickly, too firmly, and it squirted out of her hands, cart-wheeling across the floor to land under the table.

“Oh!” She scuttled after it on hands and feet. She clasped it in her hand and as she began to rise, cracked her head firmly on the edge of the table with a solid ‘thunk’ that reverberated through the hut. By the Virgin Mary, could things get any worse?

Apparently, they could.

She turned to find Warin standing in the tub, facing her, his masculine glory standing erect in its bed of wet curls.

Alyna could take no more. She tossed the soap
and cloth in his general direction, flung herself about and ran to the door, heaving it open with such force that the leather hinges were well-nigh torn in two. She darted out into the gathering darkness.

“Alan!”

Warin’s cry made her stumble and slow but she pretended she hadn’t heard it. She couldn’t finish the task, couldn’t face his nakedness, couldn’t face her undeniable attraction to him.

An attraction leading to nothing for in a day or two, she and Warin would part. He’d already told her that, that he couldn’t take her
with him.

Alyna
ran as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. However, several weeks of near starvation had taken its toll and that, coupled with a belly full of stew and bread, soon slowed her frantic pace to a walk. She wandered beside the river until she found a grassy spot to sit. The cool night air soothed the fevered skin of her cheeks while she watched the murky brown water.

Swollen with the recent rainfall,
the river seethed and spiraled, eddied and ebbed, hissed and hummed against a logjam on the opposite shore. If her emotions could be seen, she thought sourly, that’s how they would look.

Alyna
closed her eyes, clenching them shut, willing her mind to calmness. It was futile. Her thoughts burst free.

How had she got herself into this
? What imp had taken control of her tongue so that she had remained silent? Warin appeared a reasonable, kind man, a knight raised to the code of chivalry. Surely, he would have guarded her virtue if she had divulged her identity. Yet, she hadn’t and events had come to such a pass that the scandal that would doubtless ensue if it was discovered that she had aided a man un-chaperoned, daunted her. She must avoid that at all costs. As difficult as it would be, she must leave Warin and continue on her own.

A
shame, for Warin would have provided safe passage for a time at least. The thought of being alone again wasn’t appealing. As well, there still remained the problem of finding her way home to England. Warin had indicated that he couldn’t help her on her journey, but somehow she sensed that he wouldn’t just abandon her.