Highlander Enchanted(56)

He laughed. “There is much about me ye’ll find unnatural, I ken.”

She shook her head and continued, cleaning the long, roped muscles of his forearm before returning to the broad back with its distinctive triangle shape: wide shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist.

His body was beautiful in the way of an animal’s – with such power, she did not know how he was capable of gentleness at all. She poked at his supple muscles, and traced the shapes of several with the rag.

When she had finished, she began to apply poultice and bandage him. With a great deal of care and effort, she finished and stepped back to observe her handiwork. No blood seeped through the linen, and she nodded in satisfaction.

Cade caught one of her hands and drew her closer, until she stood between his thighs.

“How d’ye ken t’treat wounds?” he asked, studying her soft hands.

Her heart was beating hard and fast, her awareness of him causing there to be a pause before she knew to answer him.

“My brother was a knight. He came home often with wounds. The first time I bandaged him, I was ten and he fifteen,” she said, smiling at the memory.

Cade traced his thumb across her palm light enough to tickle. He looked up at her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

Her breath stuck in her throat, and she braced herself against his chest before allowing her arms to relax and drape over his shoulders.

Cade rested his chin between her breasts, intent gaze on her. “Were I not bloody and bruised,” he murmured, glancing at her lips. “My lips are no’ wounded, Lady Cade.”

She started to laugh, nervous and giddy in his embrace.

“Kiss me, wife,” he ordered with a trace of a smile.

Isabel hesitated then lowered her head to his and pressed her lips to his, lifted her head, then tried again, this time kissing him solidly.

Cade responded with the same insistence he showed before, tugging her emotions free of their confines as he devoured her mouth with fascination. He kissed her long, deep and slow. Her tension melted from her, and she wrapped her arms around his head, allowing him to support her once more with his strong arms.

She forgot his wounds, their danger, all but his masculine scent, flavor and strength. She wanted more without understanding what it was she craved, except it involved her bothersome gown being gone, so she could feel his skin against hers.

Cade shifted one arm and tugged the ties of her robe. He worked it off one shoulder then the other, letting it fall at her feet.

Isabel’s breathing began to quicken. With less material between them, she felt more of his heat, and it stoked the fire of need racing through her.

Cade began to inch her dressing gown up her legs. She tensed at first, but his heated kisses soon soothed her, along with the tiny voice of her wet nurse in her head reminding her she was now this man’s wife. It would be a sin to deny him her body. The moment his calloused palm touched her bare thigh, she gasped and lifted her head.

He kissed her jaw and down her neck, the hot trail sending her spiraling once more into lust. Cade kissed a path to her collar then across to her shoulder, his hands shifting up her body, branding her with their heat and strength.

Capturing her lips once more, his mouth became hungry, less patient. Isabel responded out of instinct, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hands on her skin and the need to feel every part of him against her. She was drowning in him and his heat, barely aware of her reaction when she wanted so much more from him.

Cade stood, running his palms across the delicate skin of her hips to rest at her waist, the dressing gown bunched above them. Pressing one hand to the small of her back, he held her against him. The long, thick, steely length of his arousal pressed to her belly, and she moaned softly, the fire in her core demanding to be soothed.

He broke off the kiss. “My wife,” his words were soft, fierce.

“My husband,” she whispered, gazing up at him.

Cade rested his forehead against hers. They breathed the same air, and she trembled in his arms.

“Isabel.” This whisper, while low and husky, was faint. He released her gown and wobbled.

She opened her eyes to see his closed, and his head sagging. His face was flushed, his skin clammy. It was more than need.

Concern tore her out of desire.

“You are fevered,” she said. “Cade, you must rest!”

He started to object then careened into her.

Isabel planted both hands against his chest to keep him on his feet. When he was stable, she wrapped an arm around him and began the long walk to the bed. Cade pressed a kiss to her temple and opened his eyes, doing his best to help.

When they reached it, he collapsed, and she landed on top of him. Isabel straightened and maneuvered his legs onto the bed. As she did so, she saw the blood-soaked trews once more and paused.

One thigh was injured, which meant taking off his trews. Heat fluttered within her as her gaze fell to his arousal, still stiff and firm despite his condition.

Cade’s eyes were closed.

“Cade, I need to bandage the wound on your thigh,” she told him.

“Verra … well.” His voice was weaker, his cheeks red with fever.

She draped a wet rag across his forehead and stood back, bowl and bandages beside her feet at the floor. She had never seen a naked man. At least, not one full grown. She had helped wrangle the children of her wet nurse from time to time but Cade …