Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Catalina felt terrible, but she could not seem to stop herself from peeping secretly at Ivar as he undressed at the water’s edge. She pretended she was busy hanging up her clothes to dry, but all the while he drew her eyes as his body was revealed to her bit by tantalizing bit.

It was a mesmerizing sight such as she had never before witnessed, and it was making her feel very hot and bothered.

He was a mere ten feet away from her, and she had a good view as he shrugged off his wet shirt and tossed it onto the sand. The rain fell upon him, trickling down the expanse of skin which shone a pure, startling white, lending him an air of youthful vulnerability. The indigo tapestry of tattoos decorating his shoulder blades and arms stood out in stark contrast.

Catalina was transfixed by the miniature forest of twining symbols and likenesses of creatures, real and mythical, that rampaged across his broad shoulders, down his back and arms, and up the strong column of his neck. His bulging muscles rippled hypnotically as he moved, and a snake-like creature with two heads slithered down his spine and disappeared where his taut waist narrowed into his waistband. Several silvery scars, from old battles, she guessed, added an extra element of excitement to the display.

She suddenly found she was holding her breath, and she had to fight down the urge to run to him and trace his tattoos and scars with her fingertips. Then, she made herself look away, berating herself sternly for thinking such a thing about her sister’s betrothed.

But it did not take long before her gaze crept back to him. She continued to observe him secretly as he pushed his long, wet locks aside and set about getting out of his mud-stiffened trews. She tried not to look, she really did, but it was impossible to tear her eyes away from the sight of the sodden leather sliding down to reveal his narrow waist, the muscular white globes of his buttocks, and the sturdy length of his legs as he stepped out of the garment and kicked it aside. Strange, hot thrills shook her as she watched him wade into the water and start washing himself.

She had to stifle a gasp and wonder at her own response to his nakedness. She had never seen a man without his clothes on before, let alone such a display of manly beauty, and she felt ashamed of her feelings. She had often wondered how women could be so taken by men’s bodies. But now she felt she was starting to understand. It seemed it was not only women who could be beautiful; men could be too, and Ivar was surely one of them.

Realizing she was getting carried away when she ought not to, she gave herself a mental shake. Ivar was further out in the loch swimming now, so she felt safe enough from her own urges to go down to the water and wash the mud from herself. She could feel her skin itching where it had dried on her face, and it was all up her arms and knees. She told herself that the sooner they were both clean and dressed the better.

She had washed most of it off as far as she could tell when he came swimming up to her. He stood, revealing the front of his broad chest this time, and the golden down covering the flexing muscles as he pushed his wet hair from his eyes with his hands. Tiny silvery bubbles glistened among the curling hairs like jewels as loch water and rain cascaded from him.

Flustered, Catalina forced herself to look away, terrified he would show more. But thankfully, his lower half remained out of view. She did not know what she might have done if it had not.

“I’ve missed this,” he said. “Ye were right about that feelin’ of freedom ye get when swimmin’ without yer clothes on. There’s naethin’ like it.”

“Aye,” she mumbled, straightening up.

“Throw me that shirt will ye?” he asked, pointing at his soaked shirt which was lying on the sand. Glad of the distraction, Catalina reached for it and, without looking, tossed it in his direction. He snatched it deftly from the air and wrapped it around his waist as he emerged from the water.

Oh. My. God!

Afraid of the powerful feelings overtaking her, Catalina scurried back to her former position further up the narrow strand and tried to concentrate on seeing if her clothes had dried sufficiently to put them back on. The top of her gown was still quite damp, but her petticoats were almost dry. Grateful for the protection they offered, she snatched them down and pulled them on, quickly tying them at her waist.

While she did that, she covertly observed Ivar swiftly getting dressed in his dry clothing. As his tall, muscular frame began to disappear, she felt both relief and longing. With each item he donned, the danger she sensed seemed to recede a little. At the same time, she now knew what was beneath his clothes, and what she had seen, she could never unsee. Moreover, though she was ashamed to admit it to herself, she did not wish to.

But once they were both decent again, she felt better about the situation. There was no doubt the afternoon had been fun. Ivar had let his guard down somewhat and wrangling the calves together had brought them closer. She had enjoyed his company, and he had not been miserable or cold at all. In fact, the change in him was quite startling, and gratifying.

Had he not admitted that he had taken her earlier words to heart when dealing with the prisoner? And had he not just told her how much he enjoyed swimming in the lock naked? She certainly could not claim he was indifferent to her, though that was a surprise in itself.

Feeling happier and more relaxed, she went to join him. “Has that washed some of yer cares away?” she said lightly.

He laughed, a thrilling sound. “I’m nae sure about that. I’d forgotten how cold that water is. ’Tis certainly invigorating.” He was running his fingers through his hair, patiently separating out the long strands so the breeze could dry them. His hair was so pale it was almost white.

They were standing close together, and as the warm wind lifted one of the glittering strands, she spotted some mud still lingering below his ear. Before she knew what she was doing, Catalina reached up to wipe it away. Suddenly, Ivar caught her wrist and held it there, his eyes fixed on hers questioningly.

“What are ye doin’?” he murmured, his face only a few inches from hers.

“Ye have some mud on yer ear,” she managed to croak, her heart beginning to pound as she looked up at him. The heat from his hand on her wrist was seeping into her skin as if it would burn her, but she did not move or try to free herself. And he did not release her. They merely stood, not speaking, staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed to Catalina like a small eternity.

Seemingly without her volition, she found herself rising onto her tiptoes, her eyes dropping to his mouth as the compulsion to kiss his lips gripped her. She had no idea if she was imagining it when he seemed to incline his head downwards toward her because she had no thought in her head but what it would feel like to kiss him.

But he must have been bending down because his lips were suddenly very closer to hers, almost brushing them, so close, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Her pulse was racing, her body quivering in expectation of feeling his lips on hers.

She was just closing her eyes and parting her lips when, suddenly, a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the ground they were standing on came from the sky, and a bolt of lightning lit up the sky across the loch.

“The storm!” Ivar cried, breaking the spell. “I kent it.” He pulled her by the wrist further under the trees to a more sheltered spot and then released her.

“I had nae noticed how it had been buildin’ up,” she said, conscious that she had been too preoccupied with watching him getting in and out of his clothes to notice anything else going on around her. She peered up worriedly at the darkened sky and rain-filled clouds above. With another mighty crack of thunder and lightning, they now released their load in a fresh torrent of warm summer rain.

Ivar was also surveying the sky from their dry vantage point. “Ach, time’s getting on. There’s nae point in tryin’ tae make it back home through this storm. We’ll just get soaked again. I dinnae want ye tae catch a cold. We’d best find somewhere tae shelter fer the night,” he told her.

“What? Ye mean we have tae stay out all night?”

“Aye. It’ll be safest,” he assured her. “I cannae risk ye gettin’ ill. How would I explain it tae yer sister? Besides, the horses will be scared. We need tae get them tae shelter.”

Touched he should care so much for her wellbeing as well as that of their mounts, she nodded. “All right, if ye think it’s best. But where shall we go?”

“There’s a wee farm nae far from here, on the other side of the wood. We can get the horses and make our way there. They’ll nae refuse us a bed for the night in exchange for a few coins.” He was packing up his wet clothes into the saddlebag as he spoke.

“Wait a minute. I have tae get me dress and put me boots on,” she told him,

going to check her dress. She unhooked it from the bushes and felt the material. “Ach, ’tis nae completely dry, but it’ll do I suppose,” she said with a frown. She stepped into it and pulled it up, slipping her arms into the sleeves before going back to him. “Will ye do me up, please?” she asked, turning her back. When he did nothing, she looked over her shoulder, to see him staring down at her. “Would ye mind doing me up?” she repeated.

He seemed to snap out of it. “I’ll tell ye what, why dinnae ye take me coat and put it over yer shoulders? That’ll keep ye warm, and there’ll be nae need tae fasten yer dress.” He slipped off his light coat and wrapped it around her, making sure to fasten a button in front to hold it in place.

She was perplexed by his odd behavior but in the circumstances thought it better not to challenge him. Besides, the coat was deliciously warm and smelled of him. “Thank ye,” she said, pulling it more tightly around her. “But what about me boots? I think they’re still soakin’ wet. I dinnae think I can walk all the way tae the form in me bare feet.”

He went and fetched them. “Aye, they’re soaked all right,” he pronounced after inspecting them. “Here, hold ontae them, will ye?” He handed her the boots, hoisted the saddlebag over his shoulder, and then, to her surprise, scooped her up in his arms.

“What are ye doin’?” she asked, alarmed, her arms reflexively going around his neck as he took off at a fast pace through the trees, ducking and diving between the branches with apparent ease.

“What does it look like? Ye cannae wear yer boots, and ye cannae walk barefoot, so I’m carrying ye tae the horses. Ye can ride from there, so ye willnae need yer boots.”

“Oh.” She was lost for words and could think of nothing else to do but relax against the warmth of his chest, clutching her boots, and let him carry her along. Truthfully, even though she knew it must be wrong to feel that way, she would have been happy to stay in his strong arms forever.

The rain was falling in torrents over the wood, but the canopy protected them from the worst of it. Nevertheless, by the time they reached the skittish horses, who appeared pleased to see them, they were both quite wet again. However, it being a summer storm, a result of the recent hot weather, the rain was strangely warm.

“Come on, the storm’s getting worse,” he said, lifting her into her saddle. “We must get to shelter soon. It willnae take long tae get tae the other side of the wood where the farm is.” There was an urgency to his voice, and Catalina sensed the tension in him. For some reason, though she knew that what he said was true—the storm was worsening— she felt the mischievous urge to liberate him from himself again.

He had just swung himself up into the saddle when she slipped down from hers, planting her bare feet into the soft, squelchy mud underfoot. He frowned at her, clearly perplexed.

“Are ye mad, woman? Get back up on that horse. I didnae carry ye all the way here tae keep yer feet dry just tae have ye dancing around in the mud like that. Ye’ll catch yer death,” he protested.

Catalina, suddenly filled with mischief, began to dance around in the warm rain, stretching her arms wide and turning her face to the sky. “Come down here and feel the rain,” she invited him, laughing at his shocked expression.

“I’ve had quite enough of gettin’ wet tae last me a lifetime, thank ye,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, come on and stop yer messin’.”

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere until ye come down here and join me.” She turned in slow circles, enjoying the feel of the rain cascading down her body. “’Tis a wonderful feelin’,” she said, flicking water at him playfully as she danced.

“Nay. Absolutely nae.”

“Ach, come on. Ye ken ye want tae. I can see it on yer face. Look, ye’re almost smilin’.” It was true, his lips were slowly turning up at the edges. Eventually, he could no longer hide his smile.

“If I come down fer five minutes, will ye come then?” he asked.

“If ye come down, I guarantee ye’ll want tae stay more than five minutes. Ye enjoyed swimmin’ in the loch again, did ye nae?”

“Aye,” he said guardedly.

“Well, this is even better.” She raised her arms to the sky and skipped around, humming a reel, relishing the sensation of the warm rain coursing down her skin. It felt so freeing, she no longer cared about her clothes sticking to her body.

“Dammit, woman, ye’ll be the death of me, I swear!” Cursing some more, he nevertheless slid down from his saddle and stood awkwardly at first as she danced around him. Then, she linked her arm through his and despite his initial reluctance, made him dance a reel with her, in time to the tune she was humming. Albeit stiffly, he gradually complied, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“The rain’s lovely and warm, is it nae? Dinnae ye like the way it runs down yer face and intae yer mouth?” she asked as they capered about. “’Tastes like freedom, eh?” she teased, resuming her humming, feeling Ivar relaxing and getting into the swing of the dance. She felt buoyed up with elation, all her cares flying away.

“It disnae taste much like freedom where ’tis tricklin’ down me neck,” he replied, laughing nevertheless as they spun and skipped about.

“Admit it, ye’re enjoyin’ it!” she cried. Again, he laughed, and the carefree sound of it warmed Catalina’s insides. “Ye see how I literally got ye down off yer high horse and forced ye tae have some fun.”

“Aye, I suppose I’m man enough tae admit it,” he agreed, spinning her around under his arm, rain running down his face. He joined in humming the tune, looking boyish and carefree, as if all his troubles had melted away, as he twirled her through the dance steps. Seeing him that way, released from the prison of his cold persona, Catalina felt a warm glow in her chest, never stopping to think why it should mean so much to her to make him happy.

Finally, the reel came to its natural end, and they stood propping each other up, soaked to the skin, panting, laughing, happy.

Another violent roll of thunder spurred them to end their play and, with the unusually dark dusk already upon them, to seek shelter for the night

“There, ye cannae convince me ye dinnae feel better fer that,” she told

him as he lifted her back onto her horse and mounted his own. He began leading them along a winding rack through the trees, heading for the farm.

He chuckled. “Aye, I dae feel better actually. I feel like something’s shaken loose inside me. But I fear that if we dinnae get dry soon, we’ll both be comin’ down with a bad chill, so we’d best hurry.”