Roman Bath
“Over the years, my stepmother has made many improvements to Dun Scaith Castle, among them a boudoir for every big bedchamber,” Kyla explained to Lily as they relaxed in the warm water.
“Same thing here.” Lily’s voice echoed off the low ceiling as she swam to the far side of the pool, her endearingly white bottom bobbing above the water. “But this is the only Roman bath.”
Kyla smiled at the bairn’s flushed face when she turned to lean against the wall. “We have naught like this. Isabel’s Uncle Boyd told me of fine mosaic floors he saw in Rome years ago. I wonder if whoever designed this was inspired by some ancient Roman villa.”
Lily shrugged. “I dinna ken. The bath’s been here for a long time. Broderick tends to talk a lot about the cisterns in the cellars that heat the water, but I dinna understand how it works.”
“Weel, I’ve heard Queen Elizabeth’s godson invented a necessary for her use that flushed waste into a cesspit.”
Lily wrinkled her nose. “Ewww.”
Kyla laughed, surprisingly content to bathe naked with a wee lass she’d met only a few hours before. Indeed, sharing a bath with anyone was a new experience. She didn’t even swim with her young brothers.
Luxuriating in the warm water, she studied the intricately tiled designs on the walls. Trust a man to be more interested in cisterns. The Maxwell laird probably didn’t even notice the beauty of his surroundings.
“Broderick,” Lily suddenly exclaimed, ducking her shoulders beneath the water.
Kyla’s throat constricted when she glanced up.
Her nemesis dwarfed a small doorway she hadn’t noticed before, his broad chest naked, a long drying cloth fastened around his waist, his feet bare. She might never have bathed with her brothers, but she’d spent time aboard ship with men and instantly recognized the signs of male arousal—the flared nostrils, the narrowed eyes, the tented drying linen.
Her father would have plenty to say about the barbaric lowland custom of men, women and bairns bathing together in a warm pool. It might have suited the Romans, but Scots?
She had no option but to stay crouched in the water. Let him make the first move.
*
Broderick couldn’t move. His feet seemed to be nailed to the tiled floor he loved, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wished he could stand tall, but the ceiling was too low. Preoccupied with how to open the discussion with Kyla, he’d never considered she might discover the bath.
Lily was probably responsible.
But that didn’t solve his problem.
The way Kyla raked her gaze over him from head to toe left little doubt that she was aware of her effect on his body. A woman who captained ships must know an erection when she saw one.
No, that wasn’t right. Thank goodness he hadn’t blurted that thought out loud.
Hopefully, she didn’t think he’d appeared there intentionally.
“Broderick,” his sister shrieked again, jolting him out of his stupor.
Gripping the towel at his waist, he executed a quick bow, cracking his head on the doorframe when he straightened. “Forgive me, ladies. My mistake. I mean, my error. I didna ken…I’ll leave.”
Except I canna tear my gaze away from the tendrils of damp red hair and the tantalizing prospect of what lies just below the surface.
“I’ll go…now,” he babbled.
“Ye already said that,” Lily accused.
For one wildly lunatic moment he was tempted to let the towel fall and strut over to join them in the bath.
Then Kyla would have reason to stare! God hadn’t been stingy with his male endowments.
He sobered quickly. Usually light on his feet, he’d likely trip over the linen and fall on his arse. What was it about this Highland woman that robbed him of his senses?
As he hurried out of the grotto, female giggles confirmed he’d turned into an imbecile.
*
Kyla enjoyed sharing the humor of Broderick’s discomfort with Lily, but couldn’t rid herself of the image of him standing half-naked in the tiny doorway. He was obviously embarrassed and shocked to find them there, yet his vulnerability rendered him all the more attractive.
She would never admit, even to herself, that she’d secretly hoped the drying cloth would slip from his hips when he reached up to rub his head.
She followed Lily’s lead and climbed out of the pool. The lass didn’t seem to know what to say about her brother’s unexpected advent and she doubted the bairn understood the reason for his discomfort. That must mean his behavior was out of character. He hadn’t come to take advantage of her.
Kyla dried off and wrapped the linen she’d brought around her body, but Lily scooted back to the chamber stark naked. There, she set about getting dressed, huffing and puffing as she tried to put on hose. “I’m too hot,” she complained.
Kyla easily pulled on the trews tailored for her by the seamstress at Dun Scaith. “I dinna bother with such frills.”
Lily yanked off the wrinkled hose. “Ye’re right. Tomboys dinna wear hose.”
Kyla reminded herself to tread warily. If the lass agreed with everything she said, there could be trouble ahead. Lily was obviously in need of a mentor, and wouldn’t necessarily benefit from thoughtless remarks on Kyla’s part.
Her brothers never paid any mind to any advice she might offer, but Lily was apparently ready to gobble up every word.
Preoccupied with these thoughts, she realized she’d donned the borrowed shirt. It was much too big, but felt soft against her skin.
She was rolling up the sleeves when Lily put her arms around her hips and pressed her head against her stomach. “I like ye,” she whispered. “I’m glad my brother brought ye home. Dinna be afraid of him.”
“I’m nay afraid,” Kyla lied.
She was attracted to Broderick Maxwell when she should hate him. That was terrifying.