Amanda Scott (23 page)

“Very well,” he said. “I will not make a point of punishing him, as I had certainly intended to do. Is it true, though, that he told you that he did not need to obey you because our marriage would soon be annulled?”

“Aye, more or less. I was afraid at the time that Isobel had heard everything, but you say it was Mariota who told you?”

“Isobel told her, she said.”

“Then I’m thinking it must be all over the Isle of Mull by now.”

Instead of denying it, he looked thoughtful again.

She watched him warily, and meeting that look, he smiled apologetically and said, “You may well be right, lass. In any event, I begin to believe that getting our marriage annulled may not be the simple matter I once thought it would be.”

She looked down, but that finger came at once to her chin again. As her gaze met his, she said, “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what more I can say.”

“You have already said too much,” he said. “We will deal with whatever comes, because we cannot undo what has already been done. I can, however, help you take off this robe, and I think I should do so as speedily as possible, lest the water in your tub turn ice-cold.”

As he reached to untie her robe, the back of his hand brushed her belly and the shivers began again, but she did not feel chilled. Instead, her body tingled, and she found she was not at all fearful but only curious to see what would happen next.

Chapter
12

H
er robe felt astonishingly soft in Hector’s hands as he gently eased it open and gazed appreciatively at her full, plump breasts beneath the thin cambric material of her low-cut shift. Why, he wondered, did he not remember those beauties from their wedding night? Why in the name of all that was holy had he taken so long to gaze upon their bounty again?

The firelight set shadows dancing on nearby walls, but the light outside had gone, and the lad had lighted only two of the wall cressets. They would want more light soon, to see while she bathed, but candles could wait a few moments longer.

He wanted to unpin her hair and see how long it was. He could not remember that either. Indeed, he mused, for a man of his experience not to recall a thing about his wedding night seemed an abomination, especially since he believed he had married the homely sister rather than the beauty. He should remember astonishment if nothing else, for as any idiot could see, Cristina was anything but homely. Only by comparison with the glorious Mariota could one think such a thing for even a moment.

He knew that if she was going to get her bath, he dared not touch her with intent or purpose, but her very gentleness and calm enticed him. Deciding he could control himself, he took his time easing her robe from her body until she stood in just the thin shift that covered her from her breasts to below her knees, and the flimsy silk slippers she had worn to supper. Casting the robe aside, he untied the blue silk bow at the top of the shift’s lacing and, using both hands, spread the opening wide. Only then did he let his fingers caress the pillow-soft, silken skin of her breasts.

He heard her breath catch in her throat, and the sound stirred a sharp response in his body.

“Faith, lass, art sure you want a bath?”

“I’m sure,” she said, a note of laughter in her voice. “If you had let me bathe in my own chamber, sir, I warrant I would be finished by now.”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, attempting to push the shift off her shoulders and down her body. “Sakes, I want to see you now!”

“It comes off more easily over my head,” she said demurely.

He needed no further invitation, whisking the shift off, then standing silently to gaze at her as she stood motionless before him.

The firelight turned her skin golden and set highlights dancing in the curls piled atop her head. He reached out to touch one breast but drew back his hand with a grin, watching her watch his hand, knowing he was teasing her and that her body yearned for his touch. His own body stirred then, reminding him that she was by no means the only one eager for pleasuring.

With a near groan, he caught hold of her with both hands, drawing her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her the way he had wanted to hold her earlier. “I hope you no longer feel like weeping,” he murmured into her curls.

“No, sir, but the water is growing cold.”

“So you would rather bathe than learn ways to please your husband, would you?” he said.

“I thought my bathing in here was meant to please you.”

“And so it is,” he announced, ignoring her shriek as he scooped her into his arms and turned toward the bath.

“For pity’s sake, sir, test the water first. It still shoots steam into the air.”

“You test it,” he said, dipping her bare backside near enough to sense the water’s warmth. “Kick off your slippers, lass, unless you want them washed, too.”

She pushed them off at once with her toes and dipped her hand into the water. “It is still warm and not too warm,” she said. “But I forgot my soap.”

“I have soap,” he said. “Fancy French soap that smells of lavender.”

“Do you indeed? And do you bathe ladies often in your chamber?”

“Nay, lass, but a man likes to be prepared.” With that, he plopped her into the tub, splashing himself in the process. “Now see what you’ve done,” he said.

“Aye, your shirt and doublet are wet, so you had better take them off. And don’t forget the soap,” she reminded him as he began to unfasten his doublet.

“I won’t,” he promised. “Although if you get saucy, I may let you chew on it rather than wash with it.”

She chuckled, slipping lower in the water and leaning against the high back of the tub. In the firelight, her wet breasts gleamed, tantalizing him.

He yanked off his doublet and shirt without thought of any damage he might do them by treating them so cavalierly, snatched up the soap from the washstand where he had put it earlier, and strode back to kneel beside the tub. “Now,” he said, “where shall I begin?”

Realizing that for once it did not matter a whit to him that he had married the wrong Macleod sister, Cristina decided to enjoy her bath and his company, since common sense warned her that such an evening might never come again.

His hands hovered above the tub, one holding the soap near her breasts, the other near the foot of the tub, but she said, “I can soap myself, sir. I’m sure it would make the bath go faster.”

“Ah, but I’ve decided that I do not want it to go faster, because you deserve a little special treatment, I think, after your long, wearisome day. You also deserve just a little punishment for keeping secrets from your lord and master,” he added, touching the soap lightly to her right breast. “Sit up a bit more if you please. I cannot wash them properly whilst they are submerged.”

Her body tingled everywhere, and her breasts seemed to swell, their nipples leaping to attention. As she obeyed his command, slowly sitting straighter in the tub, her body fairly hummed in anticipation of what he might do next.

“Don’t nibble that lip,” he warned her. “I mean to taste it myself later, and I shan’t be happy if you shred it before then.”

Surprised, for she had not realized that she was chewing her lip again, she stopped, and when he chuckled, she looked up at him.

He kissed her lips lightly. “Just a taste,” he said as he pulled back again.

She nearly protested, but before she could do so, he rubbed the soap across the nipple of her right breast. Then, lathering his two hands, he handed the soap to her and said, “Hold this now, and don’t let it fall into the water. It’s damned expensive stuff.” As she held it obediently above the water, he said, “Hold it with both hands, lass. If you drop it, I’ll be most displeased.”

Holding it away from the water with both hands, she was helpless to protect herself as his soapy hands roamed freely over her breasts and arms, and then lower, where they were soapy no longer, to caress other parts of her body at will. When one intruded between her legs, tickling the curls at the juncture of her thighs, and a finger darted into the opening there, she nearly came up out of the tub, but he pressed her back with his other hand, saying gently, “Not yet, lassie, not yet.”

Her body felt as if the fire had leaped from the fireplace into the tub and had invaded her. Her breasts tingled so much they ached, and she wanted him to hold her so that she could press herself against him. Never had she had such thoughts before, but they seemed natural now.

He seemed to have forgotten about the soap, as his hands made free with her body. One had settled between her legs as if it meant to stay there, while the other cupped and caressed her breasts until she began to fear she would go mad.

As he slowly trickled water over one breast, rinsing soap from it, she said, “Please, sir, I would . . .” But she finished the sentence with a moan as he lowered his head and took the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard on it, and nibbling it gently with his teeth, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body and making her moan louder.

Shifting his attention to the other breast, he sucked long and hard there, too, and she continued to hold the bar of soap, forgotten now as her attention focused on his lips, tongue, and teeth, and the wondrous sensations they created.

“Stand up, lassie,” he said at last, his voice a near groan.

Thinking that he meant to let her out of the bath at last, she obeyed at once. Handing him the soap when he asked her for it, she began to step out of the tub.

“Nay, nay, we’re far from finished,” he said. “Stand still now, whilst I finish soaping you.”

“I’ll freeze.”

“I promise you won’t,” he said, and proceeded to prove his point by drawing the soap over her breasts and belly to the fork of her legs and between them, then down over her thighs and knees and up the back of first one leg and then the other to her bottom and the cleft between its cheeks. His fingers tickled her there, too, and she gave a cry of passion mixed with dismay.

“Be still now, or I’ll have to exact a penance,” he warned.

To her shock, she found herself wondering if the penance might be as delightful as everything else had been.

Hector was thoroughly enjoying himself, but he knew his body would betray him soon if he did not speed things up. The mere motion of passing the soap over her body, of caressing her skin and hearing her moans, was stirring him in ways he could not remember any woman stirring him before. Teasing her was pure delight.

He had expected her to be timid, because her experience was small, but instead she seemed eager for his touch and fascinated by the sensations erupting in her body. Her reactions stirred him to try new things just to see what she would do.

But his own time was swiftly coming, and he did not want to spend himself before he had even got her into bed. So at last, he dropped the soap onto a nearby stool and reached for the pail beside it.

“Not that one,” she exclaimed. “That’s cold water!”

He put a finger into it. “So it is,” he said. “Let me see now, how much penance do you deserve to pay?”

“You’d better not,” she warned.

“Stand quietly, lass. Remember, I am still your lord.” He grinned at her and then got to his feet and went to fetch the ewer from the washstand. “You should have asked the lads to fetch a pail of hot water for rinsing, but I suppose this will have to do,” he said as he scooped soapy water into it from the tub and poured it over her from her shoulders to rinse her off. A few moments later, he reached for the towel from the washstand and wrapped her in it.

“I haven’t told you to go anywhere yet,” he said as she stepped out of the tub. “You must be properly dried first, so stand here by the fire.”

He took the same care drying her that he had taken soaping her, and enjoyed it nearly as much, but his body was not accommodating his desire to linger over such simple pleasures, and was demanding instead that he get on with the main business of the night. Accordingly, he soon cast the towel aside and carried her to the bed, laying her atop it and moving to deal with the rest of his clothing.

When he had taken off his breeks, hose, and shoes, he saw that she had pulled back the coverlet and slipped beneath it. He took time only to light a few more candles before joining her there.

He was so big, she thought, bigger lying next to her than she remembered. How could anyone as small as she was ever satisfy such a man? Not that Mariota was much more than a couple of inches taller and a few pounds heavier. But she would not think of Mariota tonight. She had promised herself she would not.

He reached for her and drew her closer. His hands felt rough against her skin, and his cheek against hers was rough, too, with the beginnings of a beard. But she forgot the roughness when he rose on one elbow, leaned close, and kissed her hard on the lips. His forearm slipped beneath her, and his lips eased their pressure as his kisses grew softer and more teasing. Then his lips parted, and his tongue touched her lips, pressing itself between them into her mouth. It seemed odd for him to kiss her so, but she did not mind in the least and moved her tongue to meet his, tasting it. It seemed to fill her mouth, but she did not mind that either.

His free hand moved to cup her left breast, and his thumb teased the nipple, bringing it to aching attention again. She wanted him to kiss it again, to suckle it as he had before, as a bairn would. The thought made her smile.

“What?” he murmured against her lips.

“I was just thinking that you are too big to count as a bairn,” she said. Then, realizing that she must sound daft, she smiled again, but he shifted as she did and captured her nipple between his teeth, his tongue teasing it as his thumb had done before, but warmer, softer, more stimulating. That he had apparently understood her cryptic remark made her feel warm in a different way, and she tugged on his ear until he raised his head and looked at her. Then she kissed him on the lips and pressed her tongue hard between them as he had done to her.

With a groan, he pulled her tight against him, kissing her possessively. His hands began to play with abandon up and down her body until she moaned and wanted to cry out. But then one moved between her legs, opening her to him, and then it was no longer his hand but another part of him that pressed for entrance.