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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