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his towel somewhere between the bathroom and the bedroom and stood waiting patiently by the bed in
all his glory. Genevieve blushed as she shoved the clothes into his hands.
"Good luck."
She retrieved her own garments and bolted for the bathroom. After a quick cold shower, she hastily put
on underclothes, then washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had just pulled her jeans up over her
hips when Kendrick opened the door, still naked, with a pair of jockey shorts in his hands. Whatever
question he'd had died on his lips at the sight of her. He looked at her bare feet, then let his gaze roam
over her legs, linger for some time at the fly of her jeans, which she hadn't gotten quite buttoned up, and
then stop at her lacy bra. Genevieve crossed her arms over her breasts but he was instantly standing
before her, pulling her arms away. He reached out hesitantly and fingered the elastic of the strap, then
trailed his fingers down until they lightly brushed over the lace covering the top of her breast.
He pulled his hand away suddenly and turned. "Hurry," he said hoarsely.
Genevieve yanked a T-shirt and sweater down over her head, buttoned up her jeans and dragged a
brush through her hair. Shoes would have to wait. The sooner Kendrick was covered up, the better she'd
like it. She left the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed. He caught sight of her, then held out the briefs.
And he scowled.
"Are these what I think they are?"
She nodded, biting her lip to keep from smiling.
"Well, they're too small. I'll be gelded by noon if I wear them."
She laughed, then jumped away as he reached out to swat her. "You stay there. I'll see what else I can
find."
A few more minutes spent rummaging in his trunk produced a pair of boxer shorts. Kendrick nodded
approvingly and put them on. Jeans and a sweatshirt completed his outfit. He wanted to go barefoot but
she convinced him tennis shoes would be a better choice.
He caught her hand as they left the room. "You needn't make me sit on the counter in the bathroom this
afternoon." He dropped her hand and shoved his hands into his pockets as if he'd been doing it all his life.
"If it does not please you."
She looked up at him solemnly. "You think entirely too much, Kendrick de Piaget."
"I'll stop thinking if you'll stop fearing me."
"I'm trying."
"I love you. Gen. I'd never hurt you. How can you think that?"
She had the feeling that little-boy pout was going to get her every time. She gave in and put her arms
around his waist, albeit hesitantly. When he didn't move, she took her courage in hand and snuggled a bit
closer to him. He was all muscle, but comfortable enough. She laid her head against his chest, then
relaxed as he put his arms around her and began to gently stroke her back.
She was just starting to get the hang of the hugging business when Kendrick's stomach growled loudly.
She pulled her head back and found that he was blushing.
"I forgot you were hungry," she said, feeling his blush somehow begin to plaster itself to her cheeks.
"That's a very good sign."
She blushed some more and nodded, feeling utterly foolish. Kendrick only smiled gently and kissed her
quickly on the forehead.
"Food first, then perhaps we'll come back to this very spot and I'll pout some more for you. You liked it,
didn't you?"
Genevieve wasn't about to tell him what she liked, as she had the feeling he'd know it anyway. She took
his hand and let him lead her down the hall. Her gallant ghost was hungry and she wasn't going to stand in
the path of his breakfast.
Chapter Twenty-three
� ^ �
Kendrick's mind reeled: Smells assaulted him from every angle: the shampoo he had used, the soap
Genevieve used to wash her face with, the fabric of his sweatshirt, the charring wood in the hearths
below, the delicacies Worthington was cooking. He had to force himself not to bolt down the stairs and
fall upon the food like a savage.
And the feel of things! He trailed his fingers along the smooth stone as they walked down the curving
staircase. He smiled in appreciation of the softness of Genevieve's hand curled in his, their fingers laced
together. The sweatshirt was smooth against his chest, the jeans a bit rough as they pulled at the hair on
his legs. The rubber of his shoes squeaked as he walked down the steps.
A gust of cool air hit him full in the face as they rounded the last of the steps. He gasped and pulled up
short.
"Kendrick?"
He looked down at Genevieve. "Drafty old pile of stones, isn't it?"
"I suppose you hadn't noticed before."
He grinned as he scooped her up into his arms. "Nay, saucy wench, I hadn't noticed before."
She put her arms around his neck. He noticed her hesitancy, but pretended to pay it no heed. She would
accustom herself to him in time.
"Don't drop me."
He smiled. "A knight never drops his lady. It's bad form." He winked at her, then descended the
remaining steps to his great hall. Already Genevieve came more readily into his arms. Aye, she would
grow accustomed to him soon enough.
There was so much to touch and smell, he hardly knew where to begin. He let Genevieve slip down to
her feet, then took her hand and dragged her along behind him. First there were the tapestries. Faintly
rough under his fingers, a good woolly sort of feeling. So delightfully musty smelling. Then the stone of the
hearth. Aye, it was well cut and well laid. He put his hand to the cold stone of the mantel, then smiled as
the warmth from the fire hit him. How much he had missed even such simple pleasures. What was more
soothing than a hot fire and warm wine after a morning in the lists in the dead of winter when a man's
body heat never quite warmed up his mail? And how refreshing it was to spend hours under the hot sun,
fighting or training, then find a cool barrel of rainwater handy for dunking the head?
He paused, catching another whiff of Worthington's work. Without saying a word, he pulled Genevieve
toward the kitchen. What heavenly smells.
"Not so fast," Genevieve laughed, running to keep up with his long strides.
Kendrick only threw her a smile and kept on. By the saints, he was starved! He plunked his lady down
into a chair, then advanced on the ovens. Reaching out to steal a flat cake only earned him a sharp rap [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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