is in the bag. And when you get through, I’m going to coat your hair in jasmine oil.”
Alex took a step back from her, his face filled with horror. “Nay, you will not.”
“The oil will kill whatever is living in there. Smother it.”
“But the smell, lass . . . I couldn’t bear the stench.” When he saw that she wasn’t going to give in, he looked back at the water. “No, I won’t do it.”
“Fine,” Cay said as nicely as she could manage. “But I am going to take a bath.” Turning, she slipped into the surrounding forest and removed her shoes, cursing him with every breath. “I guess he wants turpentine,” she muttered. “Make him smell more like a man. Good. Then he can stay as filthy as he wants to and I won’t care. But he’s not going to share my cloak again, and he’s not going to sleep beside me ever again. He’s not going to—”
She stopped her tirade when she heard a big splash. It was either a huge fish, a bear coming to eat them, or . . . She stepped closer to the stream and looked to see the Scotsman’s head just above the water.
“It may be warm on land but this water is cold,” he said, and even in the fading light she could see that his face was already red.
“The water in Scotland is colder,” she said, laughing.
“Aye, but I don’t get into it naked. I have my plaid.”
Cay kept the smile on her face and stepped back into the trees. She was alone in the forest with a naked man who might be a murderer, but she was smiling. Even to her, that seemed odd.
“Will you no come in, lass?” He sounded like a old man calling to a young girl—which was what was happening, but she knew he was doing it as a joke.
His jest removed the awkwardness of the moment. “Use the soap. I just hope it’s strong enough to remove some of the dirt.”
“Could you not come in and show me how?” he called in a teasing way.
Cay stayed out of sight, but she was laughing. When he said nothing more and she heard a lot of splashing, she cautiously peeped around a tree and looked out at the water. He was standing chest deep, lather on his head, and he was shivering. As she watched, he dove into the water and she saw his naked behind above the surface. Turning back, she giggled and began removing the rest of her own clothing.
What would he do if she did get into the water with him? she wondered. In her group of female friends, it was Jessica Welsch who was the flirt. One time Cay’s mother said that it was a wonder Jess hadn’t run off with a man when she was thirteen, considering what her mother Tabitha’s past was like. Cay had wanted to know all the story behind that remark, but her mother wouldn’t elaborate on it.
“What would I do if I were Jessica?” she wondered aloud. It came to her that she’d remove all her clothing and walk naked into the river. The pale evening light, the warm air, being alone with a man . . . It all seemed to be right.
But Cay leaned against a tree and sighed. What was wrong was that this wasn’t the right man. This was a man she hardly knew, he was much too old for her, and he wasn’t the sort of man her family would be proud that she’d chosen. Even if he were proven innocent of murder, there would always be the stigma of the accusation and the trial attached to him.
No, she thought, and gave another sigh. Maybe the circumstances were right, but the man wasn’t.
She waited until she heard him leave the water, then she went in. She stayed a good distance from where he had been, and even though she wanted to swim and play in the water—which was colder than it looked—she didn’t. She soaped and washed her hair, rinsed, then used one of the two towels that had been in Uncle T.C.’s supplies to dry off.
When she went back to their camp, he had built a fire and was sitting there in his clean clothes, and he looked and smelled much better. In fact, maybe it was the light, but he looked younger and maybe even a little bit handsome.
“Better?”
Alex took a step back from her, his face filled with horror. “Nay, you will not.”
“The oil will kill whatever is living in there. Smother it.”
“But the smell, lass . . . I couldn’t bear the stench.” When he saw that she wasn’t going to give in, he looked back at the water. “No, I won’t do it.”
“Fine,” Cay said as nicely as she could manage. “But I am going to take a bath.” Turning, she slipped into the surrounding forest and removed her shoes, cursing him with every breath. “I guess he wants turpentine,” she muttered. “Make him smell more like a man. Good. Then he can stay as filthy as he wants to and I won’t care. But he’s not going to share my cloak again, and he’s not going to sleep beside me ever again. He’s not going to—”
She stopped her tirade when she heard a big splash. It was either a huge fish, a bear coming to eat them, or . . . She stepped closer to the stream and looked to see the Scotsman’s head just above the water.
“It may be warm on land but this water is cold,” he said, and even in the fading light she could see that his face was already red.
“The water in Scotland is colder,” she said, laughing.
“Aye, but I don’t get into it naked. I have my plaid.”
Cay kept the smile on her face and stepped back into the trees. She was alone in the forest with a naked man who might be a murderer, but she was smiling. Even to her, that seemed odd.
“Will you no come in, lass?” He sounded like a old man calling to a young girl—which was what was happening, but she knew he was doing it as a joke.
His jest removed the awkwardness of the moment. “Use the soap. I just hope it’s strong enough to remove some of the dirt.”
“Could you not come in and show me how?” he called in a teasing way.
Cay stayed out of sight, but she was laughing. When he said nothing more and she heard a lot of splashing, she cautiously peeped around a tree and looked out at the water. He was standing chest deep, lather on his head, and he was shivering. As she watched, he dove into the water and she saw his naked behind above the surface. Turning back, she giggled and began removing the rest of her own clothing.
What would he do if she did get into the water with him? she wondered. In her group of female friends, it was Jessica Welsch who was the flirt. One time Cay’s mother said that it was a wonder Jess hadn’t run off with a man when she was thirteen, considering what her mother Tabitha’s past was like. Cay had wanted to know all the story behind that remark, but her mother wouldn’t elaborate on it.
“What would I do if I were Jessica?” she wondered aloud. It came to her that she’d remove all her clothing and walk naked into the river. The pale evening light, the warm air, being alone with a man . . . It all seemed to be right.
But Cay leaned against a tree and sighed. What was wrong was that this wasn’t the right man. This was a man she hardly knew, he was much too old for her, and he wasn’t the sort of man her family would be proud that she’d chosen. Even if he were proven innocent of murder, there would always be the stigma of the accusation and the trial attached to him.
No, she thought, and gave another sigh. Maybe the circumstances were right, but the man wasn’t.
She waited until she heard him leave the water, then she went in. She stayed a good distance from where he had been, and even though she wanted to swim and play in the water—which was colder than it looked—she didn’t. She soaped and washed her hair, rinsed, then used one of the two towels that had been in Uncle T.C.’s supplies to dry off.
When she went back to their camp, he had built a fire and was sitting there in his clean clothes, and he looked and smelled much better. In fact, maybe it was the light, but he looked younger and maybe even a little bit handsome.
“Better?”
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