Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #3)(65)

She laid out the plain soaps that had no scent and made sure she had clean bathing cloths. She bade Gannon to carry up wood since Caelen would suffer apoplexy if she were to do it herself. Then she laid a fire in the hearth and called for a flagon of ale and the evening meal to be served in their chamber.

Satisfied with her effort, she surveyed her handiwork and then went below stairs to await her husband’s arrival from the courtyard.

She fidgeted and paced while she waited. Finally, an hour later, the men began to filter into the hall, all ready for the evening meal. As soon as Caelen made his appearance, she hastened to greet him.

“I’ve arranged our meal to be served in our chamber,” she said in a low voice. “Come above stairs so that I may attend you.”

He gave her a puzzled look but allowed her to lead him toward the stairs. They were nearly run over by the women scurrying out of the chamber, buckets in hand, as they went below to fetch more hot water.

“What are you about, wife?” he asked when she sat him by the fire.

She pulled at his boots as he regarded her with lazy amusement.

“I’ve arranged for a hot bath followed by a hot meal. ’Twill soothe your aches and warm you through.”

He lifted one eyebrow as she tugged one boot free of his foot. “What is the occasion?”

She smiled and began work on the other boot. “ ’Tis no special occasion.”

A knock sounded and Rionna gave the call to enter. Four women came in bearing more water and added it to the already steaming tub. As the women left, Rionna trailed her fingers over the surface.

“I think ’tis ready.”

When Caelen would have begun undressing himself, she put her hand on his arm to stop him. Then she began pulling his clothing down until he was nude before her. She took his hand and guided him toward the tub. He stepped over the side and groaned softly as he sank into the hot water.

She let him sit there a moment with his eyes closed before she collected the washing cloth and soap and knelt by the tub. He opened his eyes to look at her as she pressed the cloth to his chest and began to wash.

“I am unsure of what I’ve done to deserve such attention, but you’ll not hear a single complaint cross my lips.”

“You have been working tirelessly without rest for weeks now,” she said softly. “You’ve insisted on my resting, but not your own. You indulge me and pamper me and yet no one does the same for you.”

He laughed. “I’m a warrior, Rionna. No one pampers warriors.”

“This wife does,” she defended. “An evening where you are waited on hand and foot will do you good.”

She began washing his back in lazy, sensual strokes. His muscles rippled underneath her touch and his breath caught and expelled in a jerky rush.

“I think you may just be right about that. I rather like the idea of my wife serving me in the privacy of our chamber. It opens up a lot of colorful possibilities.”

She leaned over and silenced him with a kiss. She dipped her hand into the water and trailed her fingers down his belly to his cock. Gently she rubbed up and down over his hardness.

“I must be sure to clean everywhere,” she murmured.

“Oh aye, you mustn’t miss a single spot,” he murmured back as he nibbled at her lips.

She leaned back and then went to collect the heavy pitcher from the washbasin. After directing him to scoot forward in the tub, she began to wash his hair.

She loved running her fingers through the long strands. She soaped and rinsed and dug her fingers through the thick pelt, massaging and stroking as she sought to give him comfort.

“Your hands are magic, lass,” he murmured. “ ’Tis the truth I’ve never had so much pleasure from something so simple as a washing of the hair.”

“If you stand by the fire, I’ll dry you,” she said as she rocked back on her heels.

“You’ll not have to ask me twice if I want another opportunity for your hands on my body.”

He stood, and water ran down his back, over his firm bu**ocks, and down his legs. He stepped from the tub and then turned to face her, his back to the fire. Her gaze was riveted to his body. Were she ninety, she’d never grow tired of looking at this man. He fascinated her. He appealed to her feminine senses in a way a man had never before appealed to her.

“If you continue looking at me so, you’ll find yourself on your back with me between your thighs,” he said gruffly.

She grinned then and stepped forward to began wiping the moisture from his body. She rose up on tiptoe to gather the strands of his hair and squeeze excess water away. When his hair no longer dripped, she began to rub down the rest of his body.

’Twas the truth she had every intention of pampering her husband this night, but she was so enjoying the experience herself that she felt guilty over the pleasure it brought her.

With his chest and arms now dry, she dropped to her knees to rub his hips, thighs, and lower legs. For now she avoided his groin, wanting to draw out that particular form of torture.

Then she rose up on her knees so that her mouth was mere inches from his swollen cock. “Tell me husband, will you be too weak to partake of your evening meal if I pleasure you now?”

His eyes glittered at her mischievous teasing. He slid his fingers through her hair and pulled her roughly forward until the tip of his erection rested against her bottom lip.