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some perverse way only made him seem less human. But the scars she saw now were not like that. One long gash tore its way across his chest from his arm almost to his throat. Another neat crescent marred the smooth skin of his side. It was the odd raking scar that ran across the back of one shoulder that caught her interest the most, however. Three parallel scars, they most certainly must have been caused by some huge beast’s claws.
    Unwittingly she shuddered at the thought of some wild creature’s curving talons catching on that warm flesh and ripping it open. Then she felt his eyes upon her and she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his. There was a faint cynicism on his face and his tone was biting. “So tell me, will your sheltered mistress be repulsed by the honest scars that mark me? Shall she also quiver in fear at the very sight?”
    Lilliane could not answer him for she felt a bewildering confusion. If she were to be honest, she would admit that, yes, Lady Lilliane of Orrick would—and did—indeed tremble in fear of him and his hard, battle-marked body. But it was not revulsion at the scars that affected her so. She could not say precisely what it was, but there was something about him that brought all her senses alert. Like some bird of prey’s poor quarry, she knew she must be careful not to make a single misstep else he would have her in his merciless grip. Maid or lady, he was dangerous to either of her poses.
    When she remained silent he snorted in disgust. Then he gestured to the wooden bucket. “Douse me thoroughly. Lady Lilliane awaits.”
    With hands that trembled she lifted the water bucket high and dumped it without warning full upon him. But this water was icy cold, and it brought him to his feet in surprise.
    Lilliane jumped back in alarm, averting her eyes at once. With an oath he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a length of bleached linen around his waist. She was certain he must be furious. When he only stared at her with an odd, speculative gaze, however, her heart’s pace increased and she swallowed convulsively.
    She felt devoured by that gaze but it was going as she planned, she reminded herself nervously. If he would but show his base and dishonorable side, she could rid herself of the burden of marrying him.
    He pushed his wet hair back from his face and slowly smiled. It crossed her mind that despite the hard planes of his face—the proud straight nose, the steel-gray eyes, and the solid jaw—when his lips softened in a smile, the harshness almost disappeared. Almost. But she would be a fool if she allowed that smile to deceive her, she told herself.
    “You’ve a saucy manner.” He paused. “What shall I call you?”
    “You’ve no need to be calling me at all,” Lilliane answered warily.
    “Ah, but I’m a man who enjoys his bath. I think I shall often have need of your services.”
    “I’ve other duties—”
    “Your first duty is to your master.” He took an easy step forward.
    Lilliane took a step back. “And what of your lady wife?” she goaded.
    A brief shadow passed over his face. “It’s doubtful my lady wife wants any more to do with me than I want to do with her.”
    “What a heartless attitude you bring to your marriage! You know naught of Lady Lilliane.”
    “I know she was a scrawny red-haired girl with eyes too large for her face. I know she has remained unmarried long past the time most maids are wed and with babe. And that with a considerable estate to commend her.” He shrugged. “I can only reason that she has not grown into a particularly well-favored woman.”
    “But you will wed her nonetheless? Sight unseen?”
    “A wife has little appeal for me. It will suit me most admirably if she chooses to surround herself with her women and their endless chatter, and leave me to attend my own duties.”
    Despite her anger at the dreadful picture of her he painted, Lilliane felt a wild flicker of hope. “Does that mean … well, I mean … what of an