“Aye, Evan.” As his brother left the chamber, Bella followed and he heard the dog settle outside the door. Sarah came to stand before him. “I can’t believe you still haven’t been in the bath.”
His talk, or continuing argument, with the Bruce had taken far longer than he had wished, given that his wife waited for him. But the anger from the confrontation faded with Sarah before him. Once again, they hid from the world in the bathing chamber, a concept he would move mountains to maintain.
Conall lifted her hand and placed it against the singular piece of his cheek void of whiskers. “I need to finish to properly to feel you against me.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the bare patch. “Then finish it up.”
Doing as ordered, Conall scraped and kept his eyes on her as she filled the tub. Her voice floated to him, soft and melancholy as she shared her thoughts. “I haven’t been in here since you left.” With the water running, she gazed around the chamber, seeing it with solemn eyes.
“You smell sweet, so I ken you have bathed.” Conall lifted his chin to remove the stubble from his neck.
“Not in here,” Sarah admitted with a shake of her head that had curls dancing around her face. “I couldn’t face this room without you.”
The thought of Sarah unable to step foot into a chamber where they had shared such bliss had the blade faltering against his skin and he winced at the certain cut. For a woman great with child, Sarah moved quickly to his side to press a towel to the scratch. “You fuss over naught.” Taking the towel, he tried to grin as she stared at his bare chest, or likely the newer scars.
Sarah’s finger traced a pink line over his left shoulder that almost touched the beginning of his tattoo. “I healed.”
The brilliant blue of her eyes closed too late for him to miss moisture gathering in their depths. Dropping the towel, he gripped her hands. “Naught could keep me away from you.”
Conall rose and pulled her against him, or as close to him as her belly would allow. When one hand lowered to rub over the round part of her, she sighed into him. “How bad is the one that causes your limp?”
He kissed her lips before leaving her embrace to turn off the water. “It heals.”
“That bad, huh?” her question an answer.
“Aye, Sarah, but scars matter naught. I lived to come home to you, as promised.” He returned to her and let her lean against him, certain the contact would never be enough. “Unless you choose to wait for me in our bed, where you likely belong, you are about to see the remnants.”
She laughed despite the conversation, “Still not going anywhere without you, so strip and get your ass in the tub.”
He chuckled and pushed aside the thoughts of another night he had returned home; a night filled with drink and passion. But he knew enough to have no expectations. She is great with child.
His trews had barely hit his thighs when she gasped. Gritting his teeth, he forced his sore left leg from the leather and blew out relief when his right leg shimmied the garment to the floor. After their marriage, Sarah had admired his bare form, but currently her skin paled with her eyes locked on the red, puckered mark that went from his hip and across his upper thigh in a deep groove.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered. “If whoever attacked you had been three inches closer. . .”
He’d had the same thought once he’d recovered from the fever, a fact he would never admit to his wife. She need nay carry concerns for an event long past.
Sarah’s hand reached out but never touched the scar. Not once did her gaze land on his manhood and its poorly timed arousal, not that he expected such a welcome given her state. With her silence, he kissed her head and turned to settle in the tub. The heated water was a treat for his horse-weary body.
“Would you fetch the dagger? My face is nay finished.” He asked for more than the tool for shaving, he asked for the night to cease being about an injury. When she handed him the blade, he resumed the task, relishing his skin reawakening with her so near.
In silence, he scraped while Sarah brought soap and a cloth to his side. When he’d finished, she took the blade and set it by his clothing. He heard a thump and turned to find the robe across the bench and his wife with a pitcher in her hand. Conall groaned as she poured water over his head and began scrubbing. But unlike prior baths, she didn’t kneel at his back, merely stood behind him. “Your hands I have missed.”
A sigh left her lips as she massaged soap into his scalp and then down to the ends. “Your hair is longer.” Again, he heard only regret. Even his hair measured their time apart.
Closing his eyes, warm water cascaded over his head and down his back while she worked to remove the soap. When she’d finished and stood at his side, he reached for the fiery curls that twisted over her shoulder. “As is yours.”
“Mine really just grows out.” Her hands exaggerated at the sides of her head and then dropped to claim the soap and cloth on the stool next to the tub. Her eyes again focused on the newer scars decorating his shoulder and chest. “Do any of these still hurt?”
Conall would never admit he felt a pull or twinge with certain movements, as he had no desire to worry her. “Nay, only the one on my thigh, but hurt is too grand a word. Let us say I feel it.”
“Yeah, I noticed the limp.” Sarah’s next question had been anticipated. “How did it happen?” Perhaps in an attempt to lessen the memory, her hands dipped the cloth in the tub and she squeezed water over his shoulders before soaping the cloth and rubbing it over his skin.
Her silken hands washed away the travel from his flesh as he told her of the fight to take the Lady Jacqueline’s stronghold. The Bruce had already taken the desired port but wanted no one to remain with claim to the area. With her husband and sons dead in battle, only a handful of men had remained to guard the gates of their keep. But he amended, “The English call it a castle.”
The sword that had felled him had come after the battle had been won. With the gates burned to ash, Conall and his men had taken control of all except the Lady and her daughter, who had been barricaded in a tower chamber. Three solid kicks had broken the door and in his foolhardy mind, two women held no threat. Lady Jacqueline had struck with a long dagger before he could jump away from the blade. He admitted, “I saw the blade, but never imagined she would strike so ruthlessly.”
The hand on his chest froze. “So, the woman who is a guest in our home nearly killed you.” The venom in her voice made him recall his wife’s strength.
His hand dripped water as it cupped her cheek. “She did so to protect her daughter. I pray you would have done the same.”
Sarah nodded and shifted to kiss his palm. “I would have.”
Conall chuckled despite airing his failing. “My men, who had control of the castle, forced her to send me her surgeon and make certain I was tended properly. For weeks I ruled her home and she had to obey all commands. She has paid in pride for the attack. She has naught left to her name, no home and an uncertain future.”
“Do you feel sorry for her?” The question had him pondering.
“Mayhap, but she matters naught to me.” Grabbing her hands, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and clung to her. “You are all to me.”
With Sarah’s skin touching his, Conall could not see the fight that led to his injury, only the memory of his wife’s hands on his skin and her body against his in the tub they had shared. When the cloth again traced over his dragon tattoo, his right hand lifted from the water to hold her wrist in place.
Her touch is too much to bear. All I want is to be with her, to be inside of her and I ken she should be asleep, nay tormenting me with what will nay be.
His voice came out with a husky groan that hinted at his thoughts of passion. “Go to bed and I will finish here.” Simply speaking the words tore at his soul, given the endless nights spent envisioning his return, a night filled with their love and bodies reuniting.
Her face crumpled in hurt before her head cocked to question
him. “Do you really want me to leave?”
The challenge had a soft laugh leaving his lips given that the deep blue of her eyes rested on the part of him standing up and begging for attention. “You can see for what I wish but ken the way when a bairn is close at hand. How much longer do we wait?”
A grin parted her lips before her tongue darted out to tease his restraint. “There are multiple interpretations for those questions.” Her damp hand ran over her belly, leaving a trail of wet fabric clinging to her skin, a singular sight that never failed to entice him. “Brenda expects roughly a moon. But I want to know if you are going to ask me or assume those notorious men who offer unsolicited advice are suddenly, and for once, correct.”
Conall bolted up straight, causing water to slosh. “I would never ask for aught that could present harm to you or our bairn.”
“I know. But you still haven’t asked the right question.” Her voice teased and yet he would swear her eyes glittered with a promise.
Words he hadn’t expected to utter flew out with in a deep timbre. “Join me in the bath. I miss the feel of you against me.”
“I would love to, but ask the rest,” Sarah mocked as she lifted from the stool, needing his arm for support. When on her feet, she lifted the shift over her head. “Fair warning, I look a bit different and rather swollen.”
His eyes raked over her from head to bare toes. The same fair skin dotted with those enticing freckles covering her skin filled his gaze. Her large and full breasts carried even more weight and made his mouth water with longing. But the roundness of her belly captivated him. Conall shifted to cover the skin with his bare, wet hands. Sensations jolted through his bones at the connection and the movement that seemed to reach for his touch. One finger traced the freckles over the tight skin covering their child and he marveled at how full his life stood. He spoke the only thought on his mind. “You are so beautiful.”
Sarah laughed. “I am the size of a cottage.” Her hands covered his and shifted them to the greatest movement. “Are you going to ask?”
With a press of his lips to the damp skin of her belly, he lifted his head to hold her gaze. “‘Tis safe to love you?”
“Absolutely. In fact, it may help me sleep better and reduce some cramping,” Sarah continued with a certainty that erased any doubt in his mind.
“In the tub with me, then.” Conall raised enough to help her safely step into the water and then groaned as she settled against him with her back to his front. “I have spent so many nights wishing for you to be exactly where you are.”
His Sarah snuggled against his chest and turned her head to kiss his cheek. “Me too. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed you.” Tears formed in her eyes and his arms banded around her to hold her close.
With his lips against her forehead, he admitted, “Some nights I lay awake with fear plaguing me that your love would nay be waiting for me, that we shared but a dream.”
Sarah shuddered against him. “Me too.”
Cupping her face, they twisted until their lips met. He brushed against her mouth until she whimpered against his and then tasted her sweetness, their tongues locked in a familiar and long absent duel. His hands wandered her shoulders, down her back and finally her breasts that overflowed in his greedy hands and had her mewling into his mouth. The feel of her skin against his, her hands exploring his body had his blood boiling.
Breaking the kiss, he whispered against her panting mouth. His hunger for her a desperation that leaked into his voice. “I have a question for you.”
“The answer is yes,” she whispered before taking his mouth her willing captive.
“How?” he breathed against her. “I can wait no longer.”
Sarah flashed him a grin, complete with a wink, and rose onto her knees with her hands braced on tub in front of her. “It’s all I can think of at the moment.”
“Aye,” he growled, following her lead and raising enough to cover her back with his chest. His hand covered the clan marking on her shoulder. “You are mine, Sarah.”
The whole of her body shuddered against his with his verbal possession. “I know that tone and as much as I love it, you need to be gentle.”
The hand that gripped her shoulder eased its pressure and slid down her side to rub over her generous hips. In his head, he had pictured his first coupling with his wife and had seen a violent and explosive passion. But in his mind’s eye, when he imagined that coupling, Sarah had been without child. I only saw her rounded when it suited me. “Gentle,” he whispered into her ear.
The body that had been eager to welcome him tensed as he positioned his manhood to join with her. Panting breath halted and became shallow and unsteady, sounding as if she fought tears. “Nay, Sarah. We should cease.” He uttered the correct words, loathing every syllable.
“No,” one hand shot out to hold his on her hip. He heard a controlled exhale. “Promise me you will never tell me what you had to do to survive and I swear never to ask.”
His breath ceased as the implication washed over him. Pushing her hair behind her ear, Conall kissed the exposed skin and trailed his lips to her cheek. “The last woman I touched was my wife. I will admit to being tempted to erase my mind, but never did. I swear it.”
Her head flashed over to see him. “What?”
He chuckled, “Evan can vouch for me for many months. While I drank far too much, I would sit alone and touch your lock of hair, kenning that no other lass would ever touch me with love. ‘Tis your love that makes me whole. Naught else will ever do.”
A sob tore from her mouth before she kissed him. Her lips tasted of tears hinted with relief. But he said, “Mayhap your wisdom is correct. The question always needs to be asked.”
She nodded and chuckled. “Given our position, I think you need to be the one touching me with love.”
“Aye,” he whispered against her lips, and repeated as his hands rediscovered her soft skin, connecting specs as they wandered and savored each tingle unique to touching her, his Sarah.
Again, his body sought entry and no resistance came, only a welcoming gasp as their bodies became one entity. “Conall,” Sarah whispered as he filled her.
Savoring the completion for many heartbeats, he drew back with a painful slowness that threatened his sanity, only to fill her again. His gaze locked on her swaying curls, the firelight dancing and creating a riot of glowing red and orange hues. Her hips moved into his rhythm and his hands caressed her sides, her breasts and skimmed down her thighs.
Grinding his teeth as his injured leg begged for relief, he shifted his weight on his knees to Sarah’s delighted cry.
“Don’t,” she breathed in and out, “Stop.” Then she chuckled before she spit out. “That was don’t stop, not. . .” Her preference died on her lips as he increased their pace.
“Never,” Conall whispered in her ear. “I will love you forever.”
Her breathing became soft cries and her hips defied her verbal request for gentle with a more dramatic pace. He matched her desires, while controlling his body, an epic feat in his jumbled thoughts until she cried out in pleasure, her body clamping down on his and then all thought left his head as he raced to meet her in ecstasy. “Sarah,” he shouted in the chamber, his voice ringing off the walls.
He kissed her head and nuzzled his nose into her hair as he fought to breathe. “Did I hurt you?” Hating the thought of turning their reunion into a foul night. “I lost control.”
Her panting breath mocked him. “I love when you lose control.” Sarah wiggled against him, “But I do need to sit down.”
In a flash, he removed his body from hers and both groaned at the loss. Settling her back against him in the water, he adored that once again kissing her became easy. Breaking apart from her lips, he whispered, “Never again will I leave your side.”
“Promise?” she questioned with doubt in her gaze.
Conall nodded and rubbed his hand over her belly. His blood froze with no movement greeting hi
m. “I should have never touched you. The bairn is still.”
“I know, isn’t it glorious.” She inhaled and blew out a breath. “I think we found a way to encourage some sleep in there.”
“Truly? Our loving quieted the bairn?” Never had he heard such was possible, yet such talk likely only happened among the women.
With her head tucked against his neck, she said, “Want to know a secret?”
Sarah toyed with him and he had forgotten how much he adored their talks, even if he thought he’d known how much he missed her. “Aye.”
Her hand moved his to the right side of her belly and the bump obvious under his hand. “That’s a head, I think. Playing the what-part-is-it game is much more fun with squirming.”
Conall rubbed over the small bump that barely filled his palm with awe alive in his heart. “His head?”
Silently, she raised his hand to cover the top of the right side. “What do you think that is?”
Rubbing the two bumps, his laughter came first. “Bairn arse.”
Sarah giggled, “Yeah, but I’m not done yet.” Her hand pulled his to the left side. “What do you feel?”
Conall’s heart skipped a beat as it explored the other side, all the bumps. After exploring, he wrapped his arms around her belly and kissed her head. His heart froze momentarily in his chest at what he felt under his palm. Sarah must have felt his shock given her light laughter.
“Aye?” When she nodded, he chuckled. “There are two. I should have expected no less from my legend.” He sat in silent wonder. I came to home to find my wife with bearing a bairn I had only dared to wish for and now find our there are two. “No man has ever been more blessed.” Sarah leaned back against him and he recalled conversations had before he’d left. “You and your sister are both having twins, as you had planned.”
He heard her swallow hard. “I thought of that too.”
“I should have never left you,” he breathed into her hair. “You have faced so much alone, such joy mixed with grief.”
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