Read The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) for Free Online Page B

have been louder. He felt its draw but stopped mid-step. What would he be able to do?
    When she turned toward him, he was struck again by her beauty. Her thick, auburn hair cascaded in damp tresses down her back, her skin was soft and creamy, and her large eyes sparkled in the fireli—
    Those enticing eyes widened with shock. She wrapped herself in her arms and cowered in shame, hiding her nakedness. He quickly turned away.
    He kept his back to her, willing his heart to slow its pace. “I assume ye could not find any other way to dry after yer soak?” His voice sounded unnaturally loud, but he could not seem to lower it. “If ye look by the washstand, ye shall see a cloth I left.”
    In the silence, he heard her move to grab the towel. In his mind’s eye, he saw her as she reached to pick up the towel and rub it against her slight body and thrusting… Seumas coughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and the waste of time and energy he was expending on his imagination—heretofore an imagination as broken as the rest of him.
    She was beautiful, mesmerizingly beautiful. But he had seen many beautiful women. Even taken a few to his bed, and there had been no complaints—he had once known how to please them. No longer. He was impotent, and by sheer will, he had closed down that part of his mind. So why was he so attuned to her? His heart raced and his pulse quickened with each sound she made.
    “If ye would please let me know when ye are decently covered, lass. I have only returned for my sack. I did not wish to disturb ye.”
    Her every move seemed to demand his attention. He had even known the moment she had awakened. He had also known her fear as she lay on his bed, which had caused him to be gruff with her.
    This… this was not helping. He needed to get out of here and away from this woman. She did strange things to his peace of mind.
    *****
    Iseabail’s eyes teared and her face was hot with embarrassment. How stupid could she have been to believe she could pretend all was well and enjoy a leisurely bath? It would be a long time before that happened again. And yet, did she not prove her naiveté with every choice she made? No, she had not been wrong to see good in this man. He had protected her and nothing else, just as he had said.
    As she struggled to pull the chemise over her still-wet hair, mortification filled her to hear him say he did not wish to disturb her. He did disturb her with the heat of his presence and the intensity in his gaze. She shook her head. This was silly.
    What must he think of this little beggar using his tub? Such liberties were unheard of and his response to her had been only kindness. She glanced over to see his back still to her. In that brief glance, she could not help noting his firm muscles, nicely displayed in the britches he wore, and the tension in his body.
    Iseabail fumbled with her clothes.
    “Do ye need assistance, lass?”
    She pulled and pushed to work her skirts down over her wet body, but her fingers seemed to fight her intent.
    “Are ye still there?” His growing impatience with her as she tried to tie her lacings was apparent, slowing her further. “Do ye hear me at all ?”
    Iseabail jumped at his angry tone and turned, only to find his patience apparently spent as he, too, turned to face her. Her heart pounded through her chest , and she wondered why he took a deep, shaky breath before speaking.
    “I see ye have dressed without assistance.” His eyebrows rose in apparent irritation. “I must say, I have never met a lass as rude as ye. Unless ye have been raised in the wild, which the softness of yer skin belies, ye had best learn quickly to respond to yer betters.” Arms akimbo, he stared pointedly at her. “I am waiting.”
    “Your forgiveness, m-m’lord,” she stammered. “I wished only to cover myself, not to disregard you.”
    His face softened then, and a small smile played on his lips. “Lass, tell me where ye are from. I feel yer protection has