Where she was prideful, so was he, keeping himself at a stance of indifference, even as he faced the naked woman before him. He picked up a soap bar nearest to him and tossed it her way. "Into the waters and scrub well," he told her, before moving to procure a bar for himself.
The waters weren't deep, but served their purpose well enough as he stepped in, glancing just once towards the doors as if to ensure the pair would be left alone. He didn't want to have to deal with the other men barking at a naked woman. It was bad enough he had to command her to bathe, and bathe along side her.
He was already working up a good, white soapy lather against his skin when he turned his attentions back to her and took in her body with scrutiny. For a woman, she needed some work. the bath would help plenty, but soap couldn't scrub out what was seething from her form. Pride. It could be poison. Perhaps he had it too, but this was meant to be her punishment, not his own. And he felt no remorse for his own pride. His, he felt, was at least well warranted. Her's? It was evidently barbaric.
"Be sure every inch is clean." The last thing he wanted to see was her soiling the bed linens on her first night, especially under his watch.