A harsh noise left her throat. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“You should have been, but I would nay trade your welcome for all the silver gained.” In his head, the compliment should have been better, but her smile rewarded his poor efforts.
“Sit,” she commanded and pointed the bench.
Doing as bidden, he sat and removed his drenched boots while she filled two pitchers, found a cake of soap and a clean cloth. Wiggling his freed toes, his gaze followed her as she placed each item within reach for him at the tub. When she stood in front of him, he wished to grab her hips and pull her close, but he didn’t want to ruin her clean clothing or that she saw him as gentle and thoughtful. “My thanks. Seek our bed and I will join you as soon as I am no longer covered in filth.”
Rising to his bare feet, he waited for her to leave, but Sarah stayed rooted in place. She stepped closer to him, pushed the plaid from his shoulders, and lifted his dirty, soaked shirt over his head. When her eyes stayed on his right arm, he glanced at what she saw.
“That one ‘tis truly a scratch.” The faint red line barely cut his skin and he couldn’t even recall receiving it. There were likely others he would discover when covered in heated water.
Instead of speaking, her finger touched underneath the cut and she nodded. His breath caught when she trailed the same digit down the white line on his forearm, then the one on his chest and followed by the largest on his abdomen. “There are too many.” Her whisper held sorrow.
“They mean naught.”
“They mean you have been hurt too many times.” If he wasn’t mistaken, tears brimmed in her eyes. He let out a sigh as she traced the one on his jaw that prevented whiskers from growing, a fact made obvious with the days of growth covering him. His mind’s eye recalled each battle to the death that left his skin marred, details never to be spoken.
“And yet here I stand.” Overwhelmed by her heart that cared for wounds forgotten over the years, he cupped her face and kissed her. His mouth plastered against hers as it if attempted to thank her for worrying over what could never be changed.
It failed to surprise him that she pulled back enough to change his intent, to soften his desire, her lips beginning their dance of tempting him beyond reason. Matching her, hoping that he gave her want she wanted, he followed her lead until her whimper filled his mouth.
Rushing water filled his ears and he failed to recall why as his hands plucked the tie of the robe, and then opened it to fine his wife clan only in a thin shift. A soft thud filled his ears when the robe hit to the floor. In the dim firelight, he could make out the outlines of her large breasts and full hips that made his blood roar in the veins and settled within as an overriding need, his length straining to be released from the confines of filthy leather. I want to touch every part of her.
With her hands covering his chest, her scantily clad form pressed against him. “We need to get you out of these,” her lips whispered against his and to emphasize her point, her hands gripped the leather at his hips. “Your skin is like ice. Let’s warm you up.”
He could have groaned with frustration when she stepped away and turned off the tub before water reached the rim, not that he cared if water filled the whole chamber. During the long ride home, he had thoughts of how he wished to bed his wife. But the purity of those thoughts had changed to wondering how quickly he could bathe or would she allow him to touch her as he was, dirty and consumed with thoughts no man should have for his wife. But he forced himself to remain under his control and not seek what had to be forbidden. Curse the gods that a wife is to be treated with only kindness. Curse her for not leaving and for taunting me with these thoughts of brutally erasing my deeds.
Sarah again stood before him and pulled on the ties of his trews. Her hands, so soft and gentle, pushed the damp from his skin and left a heated trail down his thighs. Instead of falling to his feet, the soaked leather clung to his skin but neither moved to take them off when her hands warmed the skin of his hips and belly. Muscles tightened, and a raw hiss left his clenched lips when her hand gripped his length that had fallen free and practically leapt to reach her.
Closing his eyes as she stroked him, his mind only focused on the sheer delight of her touch. But he heard her whisper, “Looks like you’re happy to see me.” She teased and yet he could only groan.
“Aye.” The singular guttural response felt nearly too complicated to form from his lips. Her hand sent waves of delight up his body and into his muddled mind.
With a gentle twist, his head fell back and his previously cold skin felt alive with fire burning. But he knew he should stop her. It wasn’t right to ask her to relieve him, but her hand remained a heaven too magnificent to leave.
He nearly choked when she stopped. Opening his eyes in a chamber lit only by the fire, his wife knelt before him and resumed pushing the leather past his knees and down his calves. Painfully slow, she made progress as if she worked nay to relieve discomfort but to intensify it one-hundred-fold. All the while his heartbeat echoed in his straining cock, which silently begged for her to finish what she had begun.
Her hands lifted his feet one at a time to remove the trews and he heard them land with a squish against the wall. He never saw what direction she tossed them with his gaze riveted on the curling flames surrounding her head, and then on her mouth, whose tongue licked her lips as she again knelt before him.
Visions filled his head of temptations for which men paid. While he had paid for a quick tussle, never had he asked for that type of wicked delight. But he could understand why men did with the image of his hands wrapped in her curls and her full lips tormenting and then vanquishing the ache.
Stepping back, his breath ragged with thoughts never to be spoken, he held out his hands to lift her from the floor that had to be brutal against her knees.
For a second confusion marred her and then she smiled, and he swore the flickering fire made it carnal but assumed he only saw what he wished. “You need to be in the tub before it cools.” Even Sarah’s voice seemed a heated seduction.
Doing as told, his body eased into the hot water and for a breath or two hurt his skin before it soothed sore muscles. He prayed his wife would leave him alone with his desire nearly bursting beyond his control. He feared to touch her with the maddening want screaming inside him. I swear I will never hurt her.
Inhaling the rising vapors with clenched eyes, he waited for her footsteps to vanish from behind him, only to stiffen when his cup filled his hand and a wet cloth ran over his chest. Opening his eyes, the enticing sight of her washing away the days of filth greeted him. “Hold still.” Her quiet words were a challenge.
“I can manage so you may return to sleep.” He needed her gone to ease his need in private. The cup hit his lips, the liquid burned down his throat so smoothly that he drank more.
Yet, wide eyes met his, the blue hidden in the dim light. “I wasn’t sleeping. I haven’t slept well since you left.” The cloth ran up and down his chest with steady motions and then over his shoulders. “I feel terrible for arguing with you. I am so sorry. After the last few days without you, I’m only leaving with you.”
“If any needs to be forgiven, ‘tis me. I never made certain you ken you are all to me.” He held out the cup, which she readily accepted. His gaze locked on her drinking, taking his offering and the sight of her tongue that licked a droplet away before she handed it back. But he focused on what she had said as her tender ministrations soothed and yet kept his physical needs alive. He warred with being stuck in the middle of desire and a peace he had never known. But he shared his thoughts with her. “Never before has a night in the rain prevented my sleep. Thoughts of you filled my mind.” Even in the dark wet nights, he saw the freckles on her fair skin that he continually forced his hands away from, certain his base desires would scare her.
Allowing her to lift one arm to clean, the cloth and soap chased away the dirt, warmed his flesh and then she did the same for his hand and each finger with ligh
t tugs that dared his mind to other touches. When they covered his minor wound, he flinched.
“Scratch, my ass,” she mumbled under her breath.
Conall chuckled and settled back deciding to savor rather than regret her presence. He knew men would kill for a wife who cared and he had such a blessing. That he wanted her only made it sweeter, even if it was tormenting. Her next statement brought home all his hopes for such to continue.
“I missed you.” He had heard her say it to him already, but emotion choked her voice and the cloth stilled in her hand.
He lifted his thoroughly clean hand to cup her face. Guiding her mouth to his, he whispered, “As I missed you.” While he meant to give her only a tempered peck, his greed surfaced to hold her close and savor the whiskey left on her tongue that readily met his.
His fingers pushed into her hair and kept their mouths fused until a soft sound came from her throat. He knew if he heard it again, he would be out of the tub and pushing her against a wall while demanding she wrap her legs around his waist. Never had such vivid pictures filled him and never had he been more certain that such would be unforgivable. She was his light and his heart, not some lass to be treated harshly, used to erase his demons.
He groaned and pulled back and Sarah resumed washing the other arm as if nothing had passed between them. Instead of following her trail, he studied the fabric of her shift and the water his hold had left on her. Patches of her skin clung where the water fell on her shoulder; in each piece those little tempting freckles filled his vision. The cup emptied in his mouth and her hand refilled it as if by magic. She took another swallow and grinned at him before giving it back.
The cloth resumed circling his left arm and traced the dragon that marked him. The sensations lit a path of sparks up his arm that carried throughout his body and like every move she made, landed in his groin.
“I want to see your mark.” His voice sounded rough and he cared little, lost in a haze of want, heat and drink. He wanted to see his clan’s claim to her that he had ordered.
Her hand lifted from the water and she covered the fabric over her shoulder with a squeeze of the bathwater. The thin material seemed to dissolve and the blue pattern swirled to life before his eyes. The appeasing sight drew a low growl from his throat. He asked, and she had obeyed with a tease. “It marks you as mine.”
Sarah’s fingers traced the pattern slowly, as if she had no other task in the world. Heartbeats ticked by and he stared as if he would die without seeing it completed. “I am yours.” Her whisper filled the chamber and even the logs in the hearth crackled their agreement.
He doubted she had any notion of what she did to him, of the thoughts too base and carnal to ever whisper that flashed before his eyes. Gripping the sides of the tub, he forced his hands to stay off her.
The cloth rose to wipe his face and then wash away the soap. Clean has never felt so wonderful. When the cloth again graced his neck, she placed a kiss to the top of his nose. “I can see you again.”
“That bad?” he asked, knowing full well the travel had left him caked.
“Yes, but almost all gone.” The cloth ran down his chest and disappointment filled him that she only cleaned his sides and thighs, clearly avoiding his manhood. I seek too much and must keep control. Again, the cup emptied and again she filled it while also rubbing the cloth on his thigh.
Conall held the cup out for Sarah. “Drink.”
A soft chuckle left her lips that he wished to capture in his. “Are you trying to get me as drunk as you are?”
When she took the cup and drank, he asked, “Are you deep in your cups?”
Her eyes lit with mischief after she swallowed long and hard. “Definitely no longer in the shallow end. Are you?”
“Aye,” he quickly replied. His head buzzed pleasantly, and he assumed the heated water only added to the delight. Mix in her hands covering his body and he had never known such bliss. Mayhap if I give her too much to drink. . . He knew the thought to be foul but cared naught with her eyes wandering everywhere she cleaned. Only a blind woman would miss his standing manhood that ached and twitched with each dab of the cloth.
Sloshing water filled the silence as she cared for each leg and then each foot, though never could he have imagined such a simple pleasure. Her fingers rubbed his feet and aches he never acknowledged fled and exhaustion reared its head. Closing his eyes, he savored one of the finest moments he had ever known.
Then he felt water on all of him and frowned. “Don’t worry, not done yet.” Her voice called to him from behind his back. “Bend forward so I can wash your back.”
Obeying, he leaned and hated that he couldn’t watch but listened and hoped that her sighs meant she enjoyed her task rather than feeling obligated to tend him. “Sarah?”
“Yes?” she replied as she pushed his hair over his shoulder to reach the top of his back.
“Why are you tending me so?” He realized he was a fool for asking. A smart man would simply take and be grateful.
“Because I want to and because you need it.” Conall sucked in a gasp as he felt her lips against his shoulder blade and then another lingering kiss on the other. “I can only imagine the last few days you endured. If you want to drink it all away, I’m good with that.”
The cloth landed in front of him with a soft splash, followed by warm water washing over his head. Skilled hands massaged his scalp and pulled through his hair. A moan rumbled in his chest and despite his resolve, his hand wrapped around his length if only to ease the torment of her touch.
When her hands could no longer be felt, he let go, worried she would see him and hated the loss of both touches. “Where are you?” he asked as he sat back and leaned his weight against the tub with his eyes closed and the cup again at his mouth.
Water washed over his hair and her touch resumed to keep the water from his eyes. He heard and smelled the whiskey filling his cup and grinned. “You are so fine to me.”
Petal-soft lips brushed his temple and he leaned into her mouth, taking the affection with greed. His eyes fluttered open to her again at his side, crouched next to the tub. More water had splattered the shift and his gaze locked on her breasts pressed against the transparent material. While not completely bringing her flesh to his sight, the round fullness of one teased with a peaked nipple before him.
Knowing it to be wrong, but unable to resist such extreme temptation, his finger reached out to explore the dusty pink skin visible. Like the swine he feared he would become, he drank while touching her, circling the flesh. It pebbled further under his finger and he heard her breath catch in her throat. But instead of pulling away, she leaned closer.
Drinking with his gaze locked on her nipple and the tight nub he had created, he held the cup out to her. “I want to taste it on you.” Too beyond reason to care that he likely insulted her with such a crass request, a snarl left his throat as she drained the cup while he toyed with her.
His hand dipped into the tub and lifted the soaked cloth. Water ran in rivulets and splashed his chest before he reached her and squeezed it over her chest, bringing all he wished to view clear into sight. Full and firm breasts pressed against the soaked fabric and still she stayed at his side with no word of protest, only a smile he deemed too inviting to ignore.
Conall felt it, the instant rational thought left him and raw need took control. He allowed it to reign as he had many times post-battle and reached over to lift Sarah under her arms and scoop her into the tub. A squeak left her mouth but no protest, so he settled her over his thighs, pushing hers open to rest on either side of his.
Locking his gaze on hers and unable to hide his intent to take, he offered her one chance to flee, almost hoping she would and then certain her would never allow her to leave. His ragged breath and lust-filled brain prevented coherent words. “You should leave. . . I need you. . . I ask for too much. . .” But his hands hated his mouth and ran over her back, soaking the shift that floated from her legs to dance at the surface
of the water.
Sarah leaned forward and her wet breasts pushed against him. “I’m not leaving, not yet. There’s a part of you left to handle.” Her hand lowered and wrapped around his aching cock while his hips lifted to meet her motions.
Though he tried to remain gentle, his hand gripped the back of her neck. “I have lost all control.” He squeezed her neck only to release it and wrap her hair into his hand.
“It’s about time.” Her whisper left her breath tickling his mouth that gasped for air. His hips lifted toward her hand and he had no doubt she had unleashed him and would regret it, but he had permission.
Pulling her hair back, he ran his nose over her exposed throat and growled. “Forgive me.” The final coherent thought before his free hand pulled at the bodice of the shift and ripped it open to reveal the two most perfect breasts he had even seen. Pressing her to him while holding her head away, they meshed against his chest in soft wonder.
He heard her gasp when his tongue licked her neck and then she cried out when his teeth followed the path, nipping and likely marking the skin. But her hand continued the sweet torment, circling and twisting in a maddeningly slow pace.
Letting go of her hair, both hands tore the offending fabric away and he heard it slosh against a wall while his mouth took hers with no constraint. He tasted his whiskey as he feasted on her, their tongues meshing and dueling with raw hunger. He cupped a mound and he growled into her mouth while savoring the flesh too large to be contained by his hand. He would have sworn she moved into his touch, that she cried out in pleasure as he ran his thumb around the peak only to pinch and grab.
Certain he had done wrong when her hand left his cock, apologies were ready to spew out along with pleading for her to stay. Before he could utter a sound, and speech would be nearly impossible with his tongue in her mouth, her legs lifted, and he felt his length begin to enter her body.
Pulling back, he stared into her eyes that burned in the firelight and at a mouth that offered no protest, one that opened to release a rush of air as her body took ages to cover his. Time ceased to exist as she lowered her hips, taking him a fraction at a time. Gritting his teeth while she tortured him, his hands gripped her hips and his fingers dug into the flesh but never forced.
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