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Her words faded into a moan as she finally acknowledged how bad her back was.
He sighed deeply, the exhalation emerging on a quiet grunt.
“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”
One of his arms encircled her waist, and the other slid beneath her thighs. And within seconds—in an impressive show of strength—he effortlessly went from a squat to standing upright, with her in his arms.
As if she hadn’t been awed enough by his strength and stamina after all the heavy lifting she’d seen him do already today.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, and he had the nerve to laugh at her. It wasn’t much of a laugh, just an incredulous little huff, but it was definitely mocking.
“What do you propose I do then? Load you into one of the wheelbarrows and push you uphill back to the house?”
“I’m heavy.”
“You’re certainly not light,” he agreed. So rude. “But I’ll manage.”
five
Iris knew there was no arguing with him over the matter. It was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not. And frankly, she was relieved. She really didn’t think she was able to walk the distance back to the house without her legs giving way.
She was shivering—his body heat no match for the icy torrent of rain—and she curled one arm around his neck and lowered her cheek to his chest, covering her face with her free hand in a futile attempt to keep herself protected from the rain.
They’d foolishly left the oilskin behind.
She couldn’t see where they were going, was just acutely cognizant of the steady, confident movements of the man who held her so securely in his arms.
In a matter of mere minutes, they were out of the rain and she lowered her hand and lifted her head to take in their surroundings. They were back in the kitchen, probably dripping all over the floor. Luna was making happy whining sounds of greeting.
Iris waited for him to put her down, but he didn’t. After quietly commanding Luna to stay, he continued to walk through the kitchen, down the hall… back to her prison, she supposed. She was of no more use to him, no point keeping her around any longer than he had to. But he strode right past her door and continued down the hall before turning into a different room. It looked like a guest bedroom. Decorated in russets and browns.
“Wha—?”
He ignored her squawk of surprise and walked her directly into the en suite bathroom.
“You don’t have a tub in your suite. And I think you need a warm soak,” he said, as he sat her down on the commode. He rolled up his sleeves, perched his butt on the bath’s narrow rim, and opened the faucet, occasionally holding a hand beneath the stream of water to check the temperature, and adjusting accordingly.
Oh God, the massive soaker tub looked so damned appealing Iris actually moaned in longing at the sight of it.
He rummaged through the vanity cupboard while the tub filled with steaming hot water and made a soft sound of triumph when he found bath salts. He liberally sprinkled them into the water and agitated it with his hand. The scent of bergamot and jasmine immediately permeated the bathroom.
“Strip,” he commanded her curtly and, for the first time since he took charge in the shed, Iris truly balked.
“Not with you here.”
His eyes were incredulous as he turned to stare at her.
“Yes, with me here.”
“No.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, remember?”
Iris’s cheeks lit with the fires of hell as she recalled the moment he’d slammed into the bathroom last night.
“Well, I don’t want you to see me naked again.”
“Do you think you’re capable of getting out of your clothing without my assistance?”
