Son of the Morning

Grace shivered as he left the room. The first two things sounded wonderful; the last terrified her. Talk? Seduction had been in his voice, in the small touches, the way he had stood so close to her. For whatever reason he hadn’t tried to take her to bed last night-anger, surprise, suspicion – this morning he had evidently decided that reason no longer held sway.

He wanted her. The thought made her knees watery as she quickly undressed and slid into the hot water, moaning aloud as the heat soaked into her sore muscles. Underlying all his suspicious questions was that sharp animal awareness between them, forged during months of shared dreaming. He had been fully aroused during that devastating kiss. He had the same memories she did, of those dreams. Just as she knew how it was to lie beneath him, he knew how it was to mount her. Yin and yang, she knew the inward thrust that stretched her around his erection, he knew the hot, moist inner slide and clasping. She knew the hardness of his hands; he, the softness of her breasts.

How could she resist that? For Ford’s sake, how could she not?

She distracted herself by vigorously washing, first her hair and then the rest of herself. Just as he finished, the door opened and a sturdy gray-haired woman came in, carrying a wooden platter on which rested a covered bowl, a spoon, and a cup.

"Such hair!" she exclaimed, hurrying to the table and setting the platter on it. Lifting a heavy ewer, she came to the side of the tub. "My name isAlice ; I manage the household for Lord Niall. Stand up, then, lass, and I’ll pour the clean water o’er ye."

Grace felt her face heat again, but she stood up out of the protective water.Alice poured the water over her head, rinsing away the last of the soap. She was given a sheet of linen with which to dry herself, and another, smaller one to wrap about her head.

Alicemade a clicking sound with her tongue. "Ye need meat on yer bones, lass. I’ll keep ye fed, now ye’re here. Sit ye down, now, and eat while the porritch is hot."

Wrapped in the linen cloth, Grace sat down on the bench and dipped the spoon into the porridge. It tasted nothing like the oatmeal she had eaten before, being rich with butter and milk, and having a salty taste. She ate all of it, and drank the water in the cup. "That was wonderful." She sighed. After a year’s absence, her appetite seemed to be making a reappearance.

Alicehad sat quietly while Grace ate, but now she bustled into action. Soon Grace found herself dressed in a soft linen smock, looser than the cotton kirtle and with short sleeves, and then a plain brown overdress was dropped over her head.

Clean stockings were provided, and ill-fitting leather shoes that had been made to fit either foot. Her hand-sewn moccasins were set aside to be cleaned. ThenAlice set to work on Grace’s hair, sitting her down on the bench before the fire and slowly drawing a wooden comb through the wet strands. "What’s yer name, lass?" she asked comfortably.

"Grace." The motion of the comb in her hair was soothing. Grace’s eyelids drooped almost shut.

"Ye’ve lovely hair, so thick and shiny and smooth. Takes a bit to dry, though, aye?"

"I braid it while it’s still wet, sometimes," she said in answer.

The door opened behind her, and she recognized the booted footsteps. "I’ll finish,Alice ," Niall said, taking the comb from her hand.Alice took the wet linens and the platter with her when she left.

"Turn," Niall said, and Grace swiveled on the bench, turning her other side to the fire. He was as skilled asAlice with the comb, sliding his muscular forearm under her hair and lifting it, letting the heat of the fire dry it more evenly.

Her heartbeat had speeded when he entered. Though she sat quietly while he combed her hair, the sedative effect had vanished. Instead that feeling of being hypersensitive had seized her again, tightening her skin, sending twinges through her nerve endings.

Panic began to tighten her stomach. She had been braced for a full-scale seduction. This subtle gentling was far more dangerous to her resolve.

"Ye asked for food yesterday, in the kitchens," Niall said conversationally. "Ye were weak wi’ hunger, having not eaten for two days, ye said. Then ye vanished, and no one saw ye for hours, until ye came into my chamber. Where were ye?"

"I told you last night," she said, her tone as even and without heat as his. "I hid, and I fell asleep."

"Where did ye hide?" "In an alcove." She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder. "Or did you think I turned myself into a bat and perched in your belfry?"

"Creag Dhu doesna have a belfry," he said in amusement. "Tell me where ye’ve been for two days, if ye left Hay Keep hard on my heels. Why did ye come here? Creag Dhu is for broken men and outlaws, not lovely lasses with hands soft as a bairn’s."

"I couldn’t escape right away," Grace explained. "I had to hide in the granary for several hours, until everyone slept again. I stole a horse, but there was fog… I got lost." She turned around again, this time to glare at him. "If you hadn’t left me behind, I wouldn’t have gotten lost."

"Sit still," he commanded, turning her back. "Ye’ll pull your hair." The comb resumed its strokes through her hair. "As for why I didna’ bring ye with me, the reason is the question I just asked, and ye didna’ answer. Why did ye comehere? Last night ye said for food, and shelter, but when ye got here ye didna’ even try to ask those things of me."

She was silent, searching for a plausible answer. She couldn’t say because of the dreams, because for the most part they had been so blatantly sexual in nature, and yet she had rebuffed him not an hour ago.

"Also," he continued softly, "there was other shelter, closer than two days’ ride, if that is truly what ye wanted. And once ye were here, all ye had to do was ask for me, instead of tricking your way into the castle. If ye thought I would refuse ye, lass, then your insistence on coming here is no verra logical. I still have the same question. Why Creag Dhu?"