The Bride Gift by Sarah Hegger

linen. Helena shivered under the steady heat of his gaze and stopped her hands at his knees.
    His eyes drifted to her mouth. Might he kiss her? She wouldn’t mind if he did. His last kiss had been most acceptable.
    His expression hardened. “I will finish.”
    “My lord?” Helena took a hasty step away from the bath. Had she erred in some way?
    As Guy leaned over to grab the soap, he abruptly demanded, “What is this?”
    Helena managed a weak smile. “A bath.”
    His frown deepened as he rested his elbows on his knees. “This morn you were plotting my demise. What are you about, now?”
    “Regarding that . . .” She licked her dry lips. She would need to clear the air before she could proceed. “I was not plotting to kill you. I have had a change of heart.”
    Up rose one of Guy’s dark brows. He didn’t believe her. The brilliant plan she had concocted disappeared like morning mist. What would Lady Rosalind do?
    With unsteady fingers, Helena untied the drying cloth around her middle and dropped it to the floor. She cocked her hip to one side and placed a hand there. Pushing her bosom forward, she peered at him coyly from beneath her lashes. It was a pose she’d seen Merry use to good effect.
    “May I do more to attend you, my lord?” she purred.
    “Huh?” He rose from the water.
    Helena took a hurried step backward. Realizing what she was doing, she abruptly halted her flight and resumed her seductive pose.
    Dripping, he stepped from the bath. His flesh jutted from between his thighs.
    Oh, Dear Lord .
    Snapping up a drying cloth, he knotted it about his hips. The fabric tented over the apex of his thighs.
    Her legs quivered with the effort to stand her ground as he stalked toward her. Her gaze locked on the intriguing swell of muscle over his chest. Her heart thundered in her ears.
    “My lady?” He placed a firm hand beneath her chin.
    Helena’s courage faltered under his keen scrutiny.
    “Just ask.”
    His bluntness startled a soft gasp out of her. She should just brazen it out, yet her mouth refused to form the words. Her mind scrambled to formulate a fitting response.
    “Nay,” he cautioned, “no lies.”
    As her shoulders slumped and her gaze dropped, she conceded defeat. Though she’d underestimated his intelligence, in all honesty how was she to know he had a mind beneath all the brawn if he never spoke? She’d also set too much faith in her own attractiveness.
    Helena crumpled like a linen shift. “I want you to avenge my sister’s death,” she blurted.
    A pause, and then his gruff voice. “Ranulf will die.”
    She dragged air into her starved body. It had been so pitifully easy, her confidence returned with a surge. “And Lady Rosalind?” she ventured bravely.
    “Stays.” The hand on her chin suddenly tightened. Guy’s expression went icy as he turned her face to catch the light of the fire.
    “Until the babe is born?” Helena pressed again, unsure what had captured his attention.
    “What happened to you?” he demanded.
    Too late, she remembered the bruise on her cheek. She tried to move her face.
    He would not release her. A low sound escaped his throat, so full of menace that it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “It is nothing.”
    His lips tightened and she gently disengaged his hand from her face. “I was not looking where I was going and I tripped.”
    He continued to stare at her. Nervously, Helena wet her dry lips.
    He cradled her face in his palm, tracing the mark with a calloused fingertip. It didn’t hurt but she flinched. The shame of her fight with Colin was like a brand.
    “Who?” Guy released her.
    “The door, my lord.” She forced a laugh from her chest. “Will you hack it with your sword?”
    With a grunt he dropped the drying cloth from his waist and slid under the covers. “I am weary.”
    As she sagged with relief, he rolled over onto his side. He was asleep in minutes.
    By the time Helena slid out from behind the dressing screen,