Page 94 of The Scottish Bride
“Mmm,” he answered, kissing her again, his tongue sweeping gently over hers.
Breathing quickly, passion rising in her like she had never felt before, she shifted on her knees and suddenly tipped, her arm plunging into the water. Gasping, she straightened.
“By the very saints, if you can fit in here with me, do so now,” he growled.
“You are wounded—”
“My wife fixed it for me.”
“It needs bandaging.”
“I can hardly feel it. There are other feelings now—”
“Come out,” she said, laughing. “And to think I worried so about you.”
“Did you?” Bracing a hand on the tub’s edge, he rose in one swift motion, water dripping, his body rich and hard in the candlelight. Her own desire whirled and pooled deep within her. She threw a folded towel at him that he caught in one hand.
“Over there. Sit.” She pointed at the chair.
“A moment and my dignity, madam, if you please,” he said as he toweled himself and wrapped it around his waist.
“I like your dignity. But we must bandage that quickly or it will bleed again.”
He sat on the wooden chair, his shoulders rising well above the back of it, giving her access to the task at hand. Taking up the cloths, she toweled him off gently, dabbing the bunched cloth over his shoulders, his back, his hair where water dripped down his neck. Liam sat with the toweling scarcely around him, hands folded.
“Dear God, woman,” he said.
“I am glad you feel healthy,” she murmured, taking up a dry cloth.
“Very healthy,” he muttered.
“Did you bring any yarrow back with you?”
“In the pouch on my belt.”
She retrieved it, then crushed the leaves and added them to the pad she placed over the clean wound. She wrapped a long strip of cloth over his shoulder and under his arm, then knotted another to run across his chest and back again, tugging it, securing it with knots. Coming around, she stood in front of him to make sure it was taut.
Opening his thighs for her to stand close while she worked, he took her by the hips and drew her toward him. “That feels good, my dear. You did well. Thank you.”
“As long as you are comfortable.”
“Better than expected, I might say.” As he spoke, he slipped his hands up, tracing her hips, snugging in at her waist, histhumbs slipping up her arms to graze the sides of her breasts—up further to her shoulders to draw her forward into another kiss.
Even seated, he was tall, and she was not, and as she bent toward him, her hair, loosely braided, fell in damp golden curtain around them. As Liam kissed her, she sensed his hunger clear and growing, and her own meeting his. She leaned closer, pressing against him, and he lowered his head to kiss the tops of her breasts above the loose bodice, for all she wore was a simple tunic gown, unbelted, over a shift. As his breath soothed, warm and moist, through the cloth, her body spun, melted.
He tugged at the gown, its side lacing already loose, its ties at the back within easy reach. Within moments, he pulled the dark blue woolen fabric upward with one hand in a long sweep and tossed it away to fall with his hauberk, tunic, and torn shirt, leaving her standing there in her shift, breasts suddenly aching for his touch. He seemed to know that as she leaned in to kiss him again. He ran his hands up the gauzy shift, fingers shaping her breasts as they pearled quickly under his fingers. Her body tightened, pulsed, her knees nearly sinking.
He pushed her shift higher, cloth bunching at her hips, his hands spreading warmth, like the heat from the brazier, caressing her skin. “Aye then?”
“Oh aye,” she breathed, knowing what he wanted, what she wanted. She would not wait and knew he could not for long. Widening her stance, she sat over his lap, legs spread, and shifted closer. “Oh aye,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Ah, there now,” he murmured, tilting his body to support her, to meet her, taking her hips in his large, warm hands. As he moved, she went with him, and then found him in the very moment he found her, velvet and hard, warm and honeyed sliding together all at once, so that she caught her breath with a little moan. Kissing her, tugging at her lip, he lowered hishead to circle his tongue over her breast making her arch and cry out, then plunge down over him, rocking, rocking as he did. He extended his long legs, knees strong, to brace them both, his hands gliding over her skin.
As he set the motion, she joined him, her breath matching his, her hair draping over both. As she rose and sank, she felt a change within her, within the depth of her heart, as if her very soul was there, within reach, giving, taking, with more to give—
Easing out a long, soft breath, she sank into his arms, laid her head on his shoulder and felt his cheek press against her head. Silently, secretly, she wept a little, realizing somehow that her life was changing. She felt such love, such joy—such trust—that she closed her eyes and just held him, as he held her.
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