LITMIR.BIZ

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was common custom that visitors be offered such service, but it was usually the married women who performed the honor of undressing and washing their guests. In the absence of such a person, it was conceivable that the eldest daughter would offer. However, Rogan’s instincts were instantly alerted.

      He did not stop her when she placed her hands on the thick band of leather at his waist. He experienced a distinct revulsion at her touch, but he was wary. He had dealt this proud woman a crushing blow today, and he did not want to lose what ground he had gained toward keeping peace.

      Her slim hands did their work and his belt came undone. She laid it carefully on the back of a chair by the tub. When she turned back to him, he saw the burning in her dark eyes and a tight smile played on her face.

      Rogan groaned inwardly. There was no way for him to stop this without appearing rude. It was ironic that an able-bodied man such as himself would feel these trepidations with a mere woman, but there was something about this one that made his flesh crawl.

      “I am relieved you and your family have chosen not to take exception to my brother’s brutish behavior.”

      “What’s done is done.” Catherine pulled off his tunic and untied his undershirt. She was close to him and he could smell her cloying scent. It was making him mildly ill.

      Her hands went to the ties of his leggings.

      “Do you not think it would be best to remove my boots first?” he asked. Verily, was this woman so anxious to get into his braes she would leave him standing with them caught up around his knees?

      She knelt to perform the duty, then stood to address the leggings once again. He was not a modest man, but he found he had an aversion to being viewed intimately by Catherine’s devouring eyes. When he was naked, he quickly stepped into the tub and picked up the soap.

      “Nay, I shall do that for you, Lord Rogan.”

      With a shrug, he handed it to her and she lathered up her hands and began to rub his chest.

      Rogan pretended to relax, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “What can you tell me of your sister, Lily?”

      The stroking stopped for a moment, then resumed. “Why do you ask about Lily?”

      “I was curious. Has your family chosen someone for her to wed?”

      “Lily is a pleasant girl. But she is young, and still unrefined. I have done my best with her, but she can be headstrong. As to her marriage prospects, I am sure my father shall have no difficulty finding someone suitable. When the time comes. It is traditional for the eldest to marry first. And it may be difficult to find someone after this scandal.”

      “Rich enough.”

      “Pardon me?”

      “I said, rich enough. Certainly with a prize such as yourself, you would want to make the best possible liaison, am I correct? Another duke, perhaps?”

      Catherine shrugged mildly. “I do not know. Certainly someone of good family. But I only received the news today of my betrothed…that the duke married another. But these are matters for my father.”

      Her hands trailed down his chest. She rubbed his legs, stroking the washing rag over them each in turn.

      “I tell you, I am most impressed with her,” he continued, pretending to be unperturbed by her ministrations.

      Her voice betrayed her tension. “Let us not talk of her. Surely we can find something else more amusing for our conversation?” She was not going to be dissuaded by his lofty praise of her sister. “May I speak plainly, Lord Rogan?” she asked.

      He was never to know what plain conversation she had planned, for it was then his chamber door opened. Andrew stood at the threshold.

      “Ro—” he started, then stopped just inside the doorway, visibly taken aback by the scene before him.

      Rogan called out to him pleasantly. “Come, Andrew, for I was just speaking to the Lady Catherine on her future prospects of marriage. Did you get a chance to discuss our family’s concerns with her when she attended you at your bath?”

      There was a short silence, then Andrew said, “Ah, the Lady Catherine did not attend me in my bath—eh, that is to say, I had no bath.”

      Catherine stood, finally flustered. “Well, there is only one tub, and you must understand that Lord Rogan, being the elder, was chosen to—”

      “Nonsense, think nothing of it,” Andrew said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I rarely bathe anyway.”

      Catherine hurriedly brought forth the drying linen when she saw Andrew settle into a chair, apparently determined to stay.

      “If you will not be needing me any further this eve, I will see you on the morrow,” she said stiffly, and exited the room before Rogan could reply.

      When the door had shut behind her, Rogan grunted, “That was close.”

      “Afraid the lady would compromise your reputation, were you?” Andrew teased. “I must say that I am more than passing insulted. I would have very much liked a bath and a brisk rub!”

      “It is cruel to tease me,” Rogan said dangerously. “I could barely stand the feel of those bony hands on my flesh with that feral gleam in her eye.”

      “I will be glad to be away from this place. Enguerrand seems to have recovered well. But that woman. Do you think you can escape the attentions of Lady Catherine?”

      Rogan didn’t answer. He climbed in bed and pulled the furs up over him. “I shall be safe. Douse the candle on your way out, will you? And relax, brother. If all else fails, I do have my sword.”

      “My good fellow, it is something of a sword the woman is after!”

      

      After breaking their fast the next morning, Rogan and Andrew were invited to accompany their host to the practice field where, he boasted, he would show them a fine display of fighting prowess.

      Rogan stood quietly as he watched Enguerrand’s men go through their drills, working with swords and maces. Andrew, who was off a little ways behind Marshand, amused himself by rolling his eyes at the stumbling maneuverings of the soldiers, then offering facetious compliments. Rogan scowled in mute warning for him to stop, but Andrew merely smirked.

      His mind wandered to Catherine. Andrew had been right when he had said that her obvious interest in him could be a problem. And there was Lily. Thoughts of their meeting last evening in the garden still made him smile. She was a strange girl. She was beautiful and proud and yet unassuming, so unlike her elder sister.

      “What say you, Rogan?” Enguerrand said, and Rogan snapped back into awareness. He glanced over at Andrew who was wearing his usual expression of ill-concealed mockery, brows raised in expectation.

      “What was that? I am afraid I was distracted for a moment.”

      “Thinking twice, eh, St. Cyr?” Enguerrand hooted.

      Andrew leaned forward. “He wants to know if you want to take a chance with one of his men.” He rolled his eyes. “Damn daunting challenge.”

      Rogan ignored Andrew’s jest and considered the invitation. With all of this pent-up tension, swinging a sword would feel wonderful right now.

      “Very good,” he said, and Enguerrand announced the match.

      Rogan doffed his jerkin and shirt, surprising his host when he strolled onto the field bare chested.

      “No chain mail?” Enguerrand asked Andrew.

      Andrew shrugged. “Too hot. Rogan despises the heat.”

      “But without the protection…”

      Andrew smiled. “Not to worry. He’ll not receive a mark.”

      Enguerrand frowned, a bit insulted.

      Behind

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