Page 23 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
Tormod returned the grin, his weathered features lighting up. “Now I will leave ye two tae prepare fer the evening’s festivities.”
Tormod nodded to Annora, then turned on his heel and left them to continue on their way.
One they’d arrived at their private chamber, Edmund laid out the length of plaid and turned to her as she took up position in front of the fire.
“I will bathe before I don the great kilt. Then I’ll leave ye in peace to wash and prepare.” He gave a wry grin as he fingered the finely woven plaid. “Once I am properly clad in the plaid that is me birthright, I shall take refuge in the study. I wish tae discuss today’s meeting with Lionel MacLaren before I meet again with the Elders at the feast.”
“Did Lionel attend today’s meeting?”
Edmund shook his head, growing thoughtful. “Nay. But I wish tae seek his valuable counsel all the same. Especially as itconcerns the Laird Harris MacDonald. I suspect the man wishes tae take the lairdship fer himself and mayhap resents me as a rival.”
“That would be hardly surprising, Edmund. Whether or nae ye decide tae stake yer claim tae be laird, yer very existence as the Laird Baldur’s acknowledged son must threaten any plans he has tae take the power fer himself as Tyra’s husband.”
“Aye, and it is me fear that his affection fer me sister is dependent upon it.”
Annora looked up, understanding in her eyes. “Ye dinnae think his love is genuine?”
“I am yet tae be convinced.”
Her thoughts flew back to the way Tyra had spoken so lovingly today of her betrothed, Harris MacDonald, when she talked with Annora in the solar.
“Yet, I ken she loves him dearly.”
“And that is all the more reason fer me tae keep me eye on him.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the scullery maids filing in with buckets of hot water from the kitchen. They filled the wooden bathtub, leaving the chamber steamy and sweet-smelling.
As Edmund stepped up to the tub and unbuckled his belt, remaining in only his shirt, Annora got to her feet and scuttled to the door.
“I shall wait outside fer ye tae bathe.”
“Why lass? I’ll nae be long.”
She shook her head, backing toward the door. “I dinnae wish tae intrude. Bathing should be done in private.”
Stepping out into the passageway she was taken aback at the maids scurrying here and there along the passageway, some bearing clothing over their arms, which she guessed were the newly cleaned garments the Elders and their wives would don for the feast that night. Two footmen hastened around her, bearing buckets of hot water and entered one of the doors further along. Clearly, she was in the way.
She felt her cheeks burning as she stood outside the chamber door, dancing from one foot to the other.
Whatever will they think of me hovering here like this.
She took a deep breath, opened the door again and scrambled across to the chair by the fire.
“I’m entering as me standin’ in the hallway looks too suspicious,” she warned him.
Edmund was splashing noisily in the tub as she lowered herself into the seat keeping her eyes fixed on the leaping flames. The splashing stopped and she heard him step out of the tub and dry off.
She sucked in a breath as he strolled past her to the place by the fire where he’d laid the plaid. Despite all her better angels inveighing against her, she found it utterly impossible to resist a peek at him through her fingers. He stood by the fire, naked, and her willful, wicked, gaze followed the curve of his back, and slid over his well-formed buttocks as he stood, his shirt in his hand, his strong legs akimbo, contemplating the new length of plaid.
He looked up and chuckled as he caught her regarding him. Her heart gave a jump and she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks as he turned toward her.
Before she closed her shocked eyes, she couldn’t help but traceall of him.
From his damp, tousled, hair, she took in his chiseled features, her eyes roaming sinfully over his broad shoulders, those strongly muscled arms by his side, and followed the arrow of black hair below his waistline to…Oh me tortured soul… his impossibly huge manhood.
She peeked at him sideways as he spread the length of plaid on the rushes and hauled his shirt over his head.
“Have ye ne’er looked upon a man preparing tae don a great kilt?”
