Read Online A Whisper of Rosemary by Colleen Gleason - Free Book Online
Authors: Colleen Gleason
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man’s fault—and he seemed pleasant enough now that he was not ahorse. “Have you bathed?”
“ Nay,” he shook his head, surprise flashing in his gray-blue eyes.
“ May I offer you a warm bath before I direct you to your pallet?” she asked. “Gustave will bring the water. I won’t take long, and you will soon be for bed.”
“ You?” Those eyes turned on her with a sudden intensity, and he looked at her for a moment, a very faint smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.
Maris’s throat went dry and she nearly stepped away from him and the unexpected stirrings in her middle. The sudden image of this man, devoid of his chausses and tunic, settled into a tub that would hardly fit his large body, filled her mind. His dark hair, which now curled wildly about his face and jaw, would be sleek and dripping, his broad shoulders bare and steam rising from dark skin—
Maris bit her lip as her cheeks flushed with warmth. What was wrong with her? She’d never had such lewd thoughts over such a mundane chore. “Aye, of course,” she managed to say in response to the question she’d nearly forgotten.
“ Nay,” Sir Dirick rumbled after what seemed like forever. His smooth, low voice carried easily to her ears, even over the noise of the servants as they cleared off the tables and stacked the benches. “I do not believe I should put myself through such torture.”
Her heart in her throat and her mind whirling—unsure as to what he meant by such a comment—Maris spun away to hide her discomfiture. “Then if you would follow me,” she murmured and blindly began to make her way between the nearly empty tables, anxious to be rid of her charge.
As they approached a group of rowdy knights, Maris paused, resting her hand on the shoulder of a burly, red headed one. They quieted almost as if she’d commanded it. “Sir Raymond, how fares your shoulder? Is the pain lessening?”
The man’s face nearly matched the color of his hair when he turned it up to look at her. “Aye, my lady. The pain is nearly gone.” He moved his arm as if to demonstrate.
“ You will come to the herbary on the morrow and I will check it again,” she ordered. It wouldn’t do for her father’s best man to have an injured arm. “The last I dressed a wound for you, ’twas only once that you came to me—and look what has happened to it because of your carelessness!”
He grinned up at her, “Aye, my lady. On the morrow, I will allow you to torture me yet again. ’Tis only because your touch is so sweet that I can sit through the pain,” he teased in the manner of a big brother.
Maris, who’d grown up with Raymond pulling at her pigtails and chasing her through the keep with spiders, planted hands on her hips as the other men laughed. “Aye, and you should keep such sweetness on your tongue, or I will put you through more tortures if you spread tales. Did I not warn you that some day you would pay for the frog in my bed?”
There wasn’t a hint of guile in her actions, Dirick thought as he watched. She had no concept of what she did to a man, with those teasing golden green eyes and vibrant smile—particularly the redheaded knight, whose besotted expression was not quite brotherly. Whatever reason she’d been in the village at night, it hadn’t been for a tryst—he was now certain of it.
Dirick’s skin still prickled at the memory of her innocent offer to bathe him, and he wondered if her father knew she’d made such a gesture. A sudden streak of heat shot through him at the thought of her scratched and stained hands soaping his body…but he thrust the thought away immediately. He ’d do well to find a woman this night. Mayhaps one of the maidservants would oblige him.
Not for the first time that evening, he wondered why he’d heard nothing of the beautiful heiress of Langumont—from either his brother or the court. Certainly a well landed maid as
“ Nay,” he shook his head, surprise flashing in his gray-blue eyes.
“ May I offer you a warm bath before I direct you to your pallet?” she asked. “Gustave will bring the water. I won’t take long, and you will soon be for bed.”
“ You?” Those eyes turned on her with a sudden intensity, and he looked at her for a moment, a very faint smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.
Maris’s throat went dry and she nearly stepped away from him and the unexpected stirrings in her middle. The sudden image of this man, devoid of his chausses and tunic, settled into a tub that would hardly fit his large body, filled her mind. His dark hair, which now curled wildly about his face and jaw, would be sleek and dripping, his broad shoulders bare and steam rising from dark skin—
Maris bit her lip as her cheeks flushed with warmth. What was wrong with her? She’d never had such lewd thoughts over such a mundane chore. “Aye, of course,” she managed to say in response to the question she’d nearly forgotten.
“ Nay,” Sir Dirick rumbled after what seemed like forever. His smooth, low voice carried easily to her ears, even over the noise of the servants as they cleared off the tables and stacked the benches. “I do not believe I should put myself through such torture.”
Her heart in her throat and her mind whirling—unsure as to what he meant by such a comment—Maris spun away to hide her discomfiture. “Then if you would follow me,” she murmured and blindly began to make her way between the nearly empty tables, anxious to be rid of her charge.
As they approached a group of rowdy knights, Maris paused, resting her hand on the shoulder of a burly, red headed one. They quieted almost as if she’d commanded it. “Sir Raymond, how fares your shoulder? Is the pain lessening?”
The man’s face nearly matched the color of his hair when he turned it up to look at her. “Aye, my lady. The pain is nearly gone.” He moved his arm as if to demonstrate.
“ You will come to the herbary on the morrow and I will check it again,” she ordered. It wouldn’t do for her father’s best man to have an injured arm. “The last I dressed a wound for you, ’twas only once that you came to me—and look what has happened to it because of your carelessness!”
He grinned up at her, “Aye, my lady. On the morrow, I will allow you to torture me yet again. ’Tis only because your touch is so sweet that I can sit through the pain,” he teased in the manner of a big brother.
Maris, who’d grown up with Raymond pulling at her pigtails and chasing her through the keep with spiders, planted hands on her hips as the other men laughed. “Aye, and you should keep such sweetness on your tongue, or I will put you through more tortures if you spread tales. Did I not warn you that some day you would pay for the frog in my bed?”
There wasn’t a hint of guile in her actions, Dirick thought as he watched. She had no concept of what she did to a man, with those teasing golden green eyes and vibrant smile—particularly the redheaded knight, whose besotted expression was not quite brotherly. Whatever reason she’d been in the village at night, it hadn’t been for a tryst—he was now certain of it.
Dirick’s skin still prickled at the memory of her innocent offer to bathe him, and he wondered if her father knew she’d made such a gesture. A sudden streak of heat shot through him at the thought of her scratched and stained hands soaping his body…but he thrust the thought away immediately. He ’d do well to find a woman this night. Mayhaps one of the maidservants would oblige him.
Not for the first time that evening, he wondered why he’d heard nothing of the beautiful heiress of Langumont—from either his brother or the court. Certainly a well landed maid as
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