Page 82 of Luthias

The maid helping her nodded her agreement. “Unseemly as well, my lady.”

Emery now understood the strange looks she’d gotten from all the other women in the castle. “In my time––I mean, my country––it’s very seemly. I promise.”

“We ken that you’re from the future, my lady.” The seamstress smiled. “’Tis all the gossip in the workrooms, how the Fire Sword brought you to the clan.” She glanced at the maid, and then leaned closer to whisper, “If you’re set on wearing them, then I’ve some trews I made for the stable lads that should fit you. I’ll fetch them now.”

“That would be excellent,” she whispered back.

After helping her out of the gowns, and giving her modern lingerie one last wide-eyed look the seamstress told the maid to take Emery’s clothes to the laundress, and both women left. Emery wrapped herself up in the tartan Darach had lent her and went to sit by the fire. Without the benefit of central heat and air the stronghold tended to be like a refrigerator, and away from her room her hands and feet stayed almost constantly numb with cold. She propped her bare feet close to the hearth to let the heat warm them.

“You’ve bairn’s toes,” a familiar voice said just above her head.

“Hey, my lord.” Emery looked up to see Luthias standing over her, as if he’d stepped out of one of her fantasies. “You have cat feet. I never hear you come into a room.” She needed to stop staring at him like a lovestruck ninny and get away from him, and then remembered she had on nothing but the tartan and her underwear. “What’s up?”

“I brought you a gift.” He came around the chair and crouched down by her bare feet. “They’re no’ as pretty as your dagger-heeled shoes, but they should keep these bairn toes of yours warmer.”

She watched as he took hold of one foot and put it in a small, fur-lined brown boot that had obviously been stitched together by hand. Feeling his hands on her made the rest of her body heat up in an instant.

“Did you steal these from one of the stable lads?” Emery asked a little breathlessly.

“I had our boot-maker fashion them for you.” Once he put the other one on her he stood. “Walk to see how they fit.”

As Emery stood up the tartan she’d wrapped around her fell away from her body. Luthias stared down at her lingerie with the puzzled expression of a man who had never seen such things on a woman. Which, of course, he hadn’t. She started to cover up again, but the chance to turn this into a teaching moment proved irresistible.

“These are twenty-first century under garments called a bra and panties. Women wear these instead of shifts and drawers in my time.” She went still as he reached out to trace his finger along her bra strap. “Your seamstress thinks they’re funny-looking.”

“I’m no’ laughing,” Luthias murmured, looking fascinated now. “’Tis tailored like a second skin on you.”

Teach, Emery, teach.

“Actually we have this stuff called elastic that makes them fit so well.” She put her hand over his, intending to demonstrate the stretchiness of the strap, but then pressed his hand against the top of her breast. Was it wrong to want to push his hand down a little more? She couldn’t quite remember why, with all the tiny rockets of excitement bouncing around inside her chest now.

“’Tis lovely.” He drew his hand out from under hers, and in the process skimmed his palm over her bra cup. “The fabric, ’tis so white and soft.”

Thanks to the rockets he’d set off, the hot flush warming Emery’s insides surfaced and crept up her neck. She really had to get a grip on herself now. He was just curious, and people of his time were a lot touchier. What he was doing didn’t mean anything to him. She should not read into it or jump on him. They had agreed to be sensible.

They had agreed on that, hadn’t they?

“The fabric...ah, it’s called satin.” She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. There was so much of him too close to her, and she had no place to retreat. It didn’t help that she wanted to run her hands over his big, tough body, either. “In this time only royalty can afford it, I think. Or maybe it hasn’t come over from China yet. I can’t remember. What are you doing?”

“Touching you. Your skin, ’tis even softer than the satin.” Luthias’s hand kept skimming down the side of her abdomen, stopping at her hip, where he tucked a thumb in the waistband of her panties. “I never asked if you’ve a husband or lover in your time.”

“No, you didn’t.” If he kept touching her underwear Emery was pretty sure she might ask him to take it off––or maybe tear it off herself. “I’m not married or dating––ah, I’m not in love with anyone. Actually I don’t have a lot of luck with guys.”

“Why no’?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against the lacy waistband of her panties. “The men of your time, they’re all blind?”

“They’re nice, and some are even interesting, but they always wanted more time and attention than I could spare.” She couldn’t tell him how boring sex had been for her with the boyfriends she’d had at college. “I’ve been too wrapped up in my studies and research, I guess.”

He tucked the tip of his finger in the curve of her navel. “No one’s unwrapped you, then.”

“I have––I’m not––you shouldn’t do that.” Emery reached down to move his hand away from her belly, only to end up holding it. “We shouldn’t get personally involved, my lord. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, and you’ve got the clan, and this is crazy. We talked about that, remember?”

“Aye. I’ve told myself the same a hundred times since you came to me.” He caught her hand and brought it up to press her palm against his cheek. “Some nights I walk from my chamber to stand outside your door. I hear the water in your wash basin splashing as you bathe, and the sounds you make when you dry yourself before the hearth. I want to come in and rub you down, and hold you on my lap, and comb your hair.”

“Oh.” Emery’s skin felt as if she were sliding into a vat of warm honey, and every sensible thought in her head packed up and fled for parts of her unknown. “Why don’t you?”

“’Twouldnae end with rubbing you and holding you.” His arm came around her, tugging her closer. “I shouldnae touch you now.”

“So stop.” Why was she moving her hands up his chest? She wasn’t going to kiss him. “Or stop me.”