Page 106 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
“Aye, I do. Will ye travel to the Highlands with me, my love?”
“I do believe I would enjoy that,” she said, feigning a nonchalant tone.
“And there is one more thing we need to do, my sweet Amelia.”
She blinked against the hot, happy tears in her eyes. “Tell me, Logan.”
He slipped the ring upon the third finger of her left hand. “A Highland wedding.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Three Months Later
Basking in thewarmth of rose hips scented water, Amelia stretched out her legs, her body not quite filling the length of the oversized clawfoot tub. The bath seemed a tonic for her weary limbs. After a morning spent walking the grounds of her husband’s family estate, taking in the rugged terrain and drinking in the pure, fresh air, her soul felt an instinctive exhilaration. Sadly, her feet had not experienced the same level of joy. Her toes had felt pinched within her shoes—she’d see to obtaining some proper walking boots quite soon—while her legs had protested against the unfamiliar hills. Now, she savored the calm of this elegantly appointed bath chamber in the MacLain family home.
She propped her head against a small pillow, resisting the urge to close her eyes. At least, for the moment. She wanted to take in every detail of this beautiful room. Separated from their bedchamber by a heavy oak door, the bathing suite was an ingenious luxury, designed with comfort in mind. Above her head, the intricate swirls of the ceiling caught her interest, each pattern lovely in its uniqueness. The mosaic tile floor surrounding the tub had been laid by a skilled craftsman, the pattern in dark and ivory hues betraying an artist’s creative eye, while the intricate details in the wood cabinetry had been constructed in a manner that was both functional and beautiful.
Relaxing against the tub, she sighed and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She wiggled her toes in the warm water in delight. Ah, she could become accustomed to this. Visiting the place and family that had helped to shape her husband into the man he was would be a pleasure.
She’d traveled to Scotland years earlier, but now, experiencing the sights and sounds and smells with Logan by her side, she’d relished every moment. Logan’s family had welcomed her into the fold, and she treasured the sense of belonging.
The soft protest of the door hinges interrupted her bliss. She opened her eyes to the sight of her husband filling the doorway, a sly smile lifting the corners of his full mouth.
“A more tempting sight I’ve seldom seen.” Logan closed the door behind him and came to her with long, steady strides. Bare to the waist, he’d loosely tied his plaid around his hips. Dappled sunlight streaming through the glazed window over the tub danced over his flat, muscled abdomen, over the light feathering of sable-brown hair on his chest. So very delicious—ah, she would never tire of the sight of her husband’s powerful body.
Amelia’s mouth went dry with longing. She smiled, attempting to play coy, though she knew she’d failed rather miserably. She simply could not conceal her desire for the man who’d stormed into her life and captured her heart.
“I might say the same,” she said, beckoning him to come closer.
“Ye’re a beautiful bride, Mrs. MacLain.” He grinned. “I do like the sound of that—Mrs. MacLain.”
“As do I, Mr. MacLain.”
The diamond and emerald ring Logan had given to her after he dropped to one knee on a London street glimmered as the sun’s rays fell upon it, brilliant as the diamond band Logan had placed on her finger on their wedding day. So very beautiful, a cherished symbol of their love. And their passion.
He took a cloth from a basket near the tub and came to her. His hungry eyes swept over her, from the upswept curls on her head to the peaks of her breasts, skimming over her legs. The rose-scented water concealed little from his gaze, and Amelia relished the way he drank her in. She felt no shyness. No need to hide herself from him. Not when he made her feel as beautiful as any goddess a sculptor ever carved.
Without words, he dipped the square of soft cotton in the water. His expression intent, he drew the cloth over her back and along her nape, setting off tingles of pleasure through her body. Inch by inch, he swept the cotton over her body, his attention to her body tender, almost reverent. Each touch was a seduction.
“Ah, that’s so very nice,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want you to kiss me, Logan.”
“Do ye now?” His eyes gleamed with wicked promise.
She responded in kind, making no attempt to disguise the longing in her tone. “Could you have any doubt, husband of mine?”
“Never.”
He brushed his mouth over hers, a light, teasing caress. Meeting her eyes, he dipped the cloth in the water again, then slowly, deliciously swept it lightly over her breasts. With a tender touch, he caressed each in turn before anointing each peak with a delicious kiss.
Continuing his sensuous ministrations, he made small, light circles with the cloth over her belly. And then lower, between her thighs, stirring her delicious ache for him to a blazing fever.
He kissed her again. Deeply, this time. So very carnal. So very possessive. So very hungry for her.
“Ah, I love you, Logan.” She encircled her arms around his back, pulling him close. His skin was smooth against hers, and she drank in the masculine feel of the man she’d married. Theman she loved. With a low sound of need, his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that seared her soul.
And then, she was in his arms. Anticipation rippled through her as he carried her to the bedchamber.
“Ye’re mine, love.” A low fire burned in his eyes as he gently placed her on their bed. “And I am yers. Forever.”
