He eased her down into the hot water, and she moaned in delight as the heat lapped over her body.
Instead of leaving her as she’d anticipated, he knelt beside the tub. He reached for the pitcher on the floor and filled it with water before pouring it down her back to wet her hair.
When his fingers dug into the strands to wash her hair, she closed her eyes at the simple pleasure of having him take care of her needs. She was weaker than she could have ever imagined she would have been after her ordeal, and she was grateful for his regard.
She moaned softly as he turned his attention to the washing of her body. He took his time, rubbing her shoulders and her arms. His hands plunged into the water and he cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the hard tips.
He didn’t tarry overlong but continued his relentless quest to wash every inch of her body. By the time he reached her feet, she was shivering with raw pleasure. He picked up one foot and water sluiced up her leg. Then he began a meticulous massage of each part of her foot, going from bottom to top. When he reached her toes, she tried to jerk her foot away and shrieked at the tickling sensation.
He laughed but grabbed hold of her ankle so she didn’t slip away.
“I had no idea you were so ticklish, lass.”
He held her foot in both hands and ran his hands over her ankle and then, to her shock, he kissed the arch of her foot. He caressed a path up her leg, over her knee, and down to the juncture of her thighs.
His hands were like silk on her flesh. The combination of the soothing water and his heated caresses were a balm to her tattered senses.
He was thorough in his wash. No part of her went untouched. By the time he was done, she was limp, her vision hazy, and she was so lethargic that she couldn’t have risen from the tub if she’d wanted to.
Ewan picked her up and held her over the tub while the water rushed from her body. He set her by the fire and promptly wrapped a large blanket around her, tucking the ends between her breasts.
“As soon as your hair is dry, I’ll tuck you back into bed,” he said. “I don’t want you to get cold.”
Just when she couldn’t imagine being more shocked by his gentle regard, he began to dry her hair with one of the drying cloths. His hands worked through the strands and when he’d blotted the excess moisture from the heavy mass, he began to work a comb through the knots.
They sat in front of the fire, her nestled between his thighs, facing the blaze. He was exceedingly patient, pausing when he reached a particularly difficult snarl.
The warmth from the hearth wrapped around them until her skin glowed pink. Heat seeped into her bones and she found herself nodding off as he combed her hair.
When he was done, he set the comb aside and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He pressed his cheek against the side of her head and rocked slightly as she stared into the glowing embers.
“You scared me, lass.”
She sighed and melted deeper into his embrace. “I scared myself, Laird. ’Tis the truth I had no liking of the thought of leaving you and Crispen.”
“Crispen slept in your bed each night you were ill. He on one side, I on the other. He was just as determined as I that you not die.”
She smiled. “ ’Tis nice to have family.”
“Aye, lass, it is. I think you and Crispen and I make a fine family.”
“Don’t forget Caelen and Alaric,” she said with a frown. “And Gannon, Cormac, and Diormid, of course. They do annoy me, but they have good intentions and they are ever so patient. Oh! And Maddie and Bertha and Christina.”
Ewan chuckled against her ear. “Our clan, lass. Our clan is our family.”
Oh, she liked the idea of that. Family. She gave a contented sigh and leaned her head back on his shoulder.
“Ewan?”
“Aye, lass.”
“Thank you for not letting me die. ’Tis the truth I was close to giving up, but your bellowing made it quite impossible to give in. You do like to bellow. It probably made you happy to have an excuse to carry on so.”
He squeezed her to him and she felt the tremble of his body that signaled silent laughter.
“When you are well, we’re going to have a long talk.”
She tried to sit up but he held her tight. “Talk about what, Laird?”
“Words, lass. Words I intend that you’ll offer me.”
CHAPTER 29
He’d given her an entire fortnight in which he bullied her into resting, showered her with affection—privately, of course—and the loving … Ah, the lass had quickly recovered and Ewan had spent each night driving her, and himself, mad with pleasure.
Yet she’d never spoken of loving him. She was free with her compliments, he had to give her that much. She told him in the sweetest tones that he was handsome, bold, arrogant … though he wasn’t certain that she meant all of these as compliments.