Wintra didn’t doubt for a moment that he would do as he said, so she got busy. She discarded her cloak to the ground in front of the fire. Then she sat on the chair braced against the end of the stone fireplace and tugged off her leather shoes. Once finished, she hurried to stand and struggled out of her tunic, the wet linen stubborn, not wanting to let go of her. After finally getting it off, she draped it over the chair and realized that her chill had grown worse. It seemed that with each garment she removed, she grew colder.
Her hands trembled as she attempted to undo the ties at her chest, the wet wool tight and unbending. She held out her hands to the fire for a moment, and then tried again. No matter how she struggled, the obstinate ties refused to budge.
She grew colder and more frustrated.
“That’s it,” Torr said turning around.
“You cannot—”
“Cree’s sister or not, you don’t give me orders, Princess.” He slapped her hands away from the tenacious ties.
“I am not a princess.”
“Then quit acting like one,” he snapped and went to work on the wet ties. It didn’t take him long to realize that the wet and cold had fused them together and until they dried they would be staying as they were. And there was no point in trying to slip the garment over her head, since it clung to her body as persistently as the ties. There was only one way to get it off her.
Torr grabbed hold of the neck and yanked. It took a couple of good tugs to split it far enough down where he could strip the rest of it off her.
She stood shivering, and threw her arms across her breasts, her green eyes bright with anger. “That is the only garment I have with me,” she said, her teeth beginning to chatter as she spoke.
He muttered several foul oaths and grabbed her around the waist to turn her around to face the fire. He planted her back against his front, then he shoved her hands away from her chest and began to massage her body as the heat from the roaring flames began to lick her chilled flesh.
The shock of his large hands on her naked body stunned her, and it took a moment before she could find her voice. By then, she realized heat was beginning to spread through every part of her, chasing the chill.
Between her beauty and her stubbornness, Torr didn’t know how he would keep his sanity. Then there was her body. Damn if it wasn’t perfect. Her firm breasts spilled over in his hands, her waist narrowed to curve over generous hips and her firm bottom begged to be squeezed. Before he had turned her around, he had gotten a good glimpse of the thatch of honey- colored hair between her legs. It sparkled from the fire’s light, as if beckoning him to enter and explore.
He had to force himself to concentrate on what needed to be done—get them warm, though if he didn’t control his salacious thoughts and desires he would have them both scorching hot in no time.
Torr kept his hands moving up and down the front of her, massaging every ounce of flesh and lingering where she was coldest to the touch. Her nipples were as hard as stones, and he had to fight not to give them a squeeze and fight even harder not to turn her around and suckle them. The thought did have merit. It certainly would warm her blood, since the thought of it was warming his.
He had to do something to distract his thoughts that were anything but honorable, so he turned her around to press her breasts against his chest, foolishly thinking that if he couldn’t touch them his ache just might ease. After all, what damage could be down by simply massaging heat down along her back and bottom?
More fool he, since every time he ran his hand over her soft, chilled bottom he had to fight not to cup it and push her up against his growing arousal. What the hell was he thinking? He was far past an arousal. He was hard as a rock and aching so badly that he was getting dangerously close to pushing her down on the bed and laying claim to her. The thought of the bed broke his wicked musings, and he grasped at the chance to step away from her.
His hasty departure startled her, and she lost her balance. He reached out and steadied her with a hand to her arm until she gained firm footing.
“Can you stand a moment while I see to the bed?” he asked.
She nodded, though wasn’t sure if she could stand without his help or was it that she was disappointed that she had lost his heat? Or was it his heat she missed? She made herself stand firmly on her own and refused to allow herself to think about his touch. Whatever was the matter with her? She barely knew this man, and her mind and body had turned completely weak and submissive to his touch? Was she absolutely insane? She shivered at the thought rather than the cold.