He grinned and wasted no time filling them each a trencher. She watched, astonished, as the man consumed massive amounts of food and drink. She barely had five bites down before he refilled his trencher. “Ye ken, ye’re so famished because ye did nae eat all day.”
He winked at her from where he stood at the table. “I’m so famished from how ye worked my body. I need to replenish myself for what’s to come.”
“Ye’re that certain more is to come, are ye?” she replied, teasing.
“Only if ye wish it,” he said, serious. He set his trencher down, walked over to her, and kneeled in front of her, putting his hands on her knees. “I would never force ye, Lena. Ye have the right to refuse me anytime ye wish. Ye ken this, aye?”
That new love she’d discovered swelled to near bursting with her. “I ken it, Alex.”
Once they were finished eating, they slowly undressed each other. Alex slipped off her gown, exploring her body with eager hands and devouring her with hungry eyes. Despite her scars, he managed to make her feel flawless and beautiful, and she was keen to do the same for him.
Standing naked before her husband, she ran her hands along his long, strong legs from his calves to his thighs, and over his tight buttocks, up his corded back, and over his broad shoulders to come back down his chest where he captured her hands, pressed them to her sides, and then scooped her up, only to deliver her a moment later into the now-warm water. He slid in the small basin behind her, sloshing water over the side to the wood boards.
He settled her back against his chest, the springy hairs there tickling her back as his thighs pressed against hers and caged her in the protective shelter of his embrace. “May I wash ye?” he asked, his warm breath fanning the sensitive skin of her neck as his arms encircled her. Her soft body molded to his hard lean one, and she could feel the powerful beat of his heart. He’d shown her more care, concern, and tenderness than she’d ever known, and though he’d not opened up to her when she’d asked him to reveal his past, he was revealing things about himself, even though he likely did not know it. He was gallant and gentle while being fierce and ruthless when need be. She nodded. Every memory she made with him truly was replacing the bad ones she still held from her time with Findlay.
He picked up the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands. When he placed his hands on her breasts and began to massage them, hot spirals of desire shot out from her center. Once he had washed her breasts, stomach, and arms, he brought his mouth close to hers and said, “Lean forward for me, lass.”
She did as he bid, and his strong hands came to her head and carefully tilted it back, before she heard a swish and warm water sluiced over her head to trail down her neck and shoulders. He delved his hands into her hair and massaged her scalp until she felt her eyes grow heavy, and her limbs as well. Once he had rinsed the soap from her hair, he shifted her forward, reached around her to cleanse her legs, and then he rose to stand behind her.
“What are ye doing?” she asked drowsily, looking up to see him. He was magnificent—all male and all hers.
He grinned most devilishly at her. “I’m getting a wrap for ye.”
She blinked in surprise. “Do ye mean to tell me yer fantasy consisted only of washing me?”
“Nay,” he said, his voice gliding over her and making her shiver in anticipation. “I’ll show ye what else my fantasy consists of,” he teased.
And a heartbeat later, as he brought her to the height of pleasure with his tongue and then gently hefted her off her feet and took her against the wall with his arms supporting all her weight, she learned well what an imagination he had. When he was done with her, she felt deliciously exhausted.
They lay side by side on his bed, thighs pressed together and arms and hands intertwined. He’d stoked a fire to chase away the chill in the room. Shadows danced on the ceiling, and she watched them for a long while in silence, contemplating if she should raise the subject of Marsaili tonight. She feared it would break the magic spell they seemed to be under, so instead, she said, “Tell me more of yer childhood,” hoping it might lead him to feel more at ease to reveal whatever he was hiding from her.
He pulled her into the crook of his arm. “It was a rather normal childhood for a boy born to be laird,” he replied easily.
“Were ye glad ye were to be laird someday?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said slowly. “I suppose I was glad of it. I idolized my da, ye see. I wanted to be just like him—fair and honest, revered, feared, and liked. I spent most my days trying to excel at whatever task my da set before me to do, so he would be proud. It burned within me to make him so. I believe it was like that for Bridgette, too.”
“Do ye?” Lena asked, wiggling into a position where she could see his face. His strong, handsome profile made her breath catch. “What makes ye believe that?”
“Oh, she had a habit of donning braies instead of her gowns, and going sneakily about to try to hunt, even as a wee lass. She hung on Da, and when other lasses were trying to get lads’ attentions, she was begging to learn to hunt and partake in battle.”
“Yer da encouraged her, then?” Lena asked, hopeful that he had so she could point out to Alex that his father had not been overprotective of Bridgette. Then maybe Alex would see he should not be overprotective of her.
“Certainly nae,” Alex said, giving her a look as if she were daft. “He told her as a wee lass that ’twas nae her place to go off to battle and hunt, and once Da passed and I became laird, I told her the same. But Bridgette was always stubborn, and ye kinnae tell her much.” Alex smiled. “Just ask Lachlan. I’m certain my sister gives him fits.”
“Aye, I’m certain she does, as well. But Bridgette lived through all she did because she kenned how to defend herself. And she kenned that because, after a time, ye allowed her to learn to do so.”
“Allowed her?” He scoffed. “By the time I realized what the sneaky lass was up to, she already kenned well how to defend herself and hunt.”
Lena ground her teeth. This conversation had not helped her in the least to get Alex to see her point, but it did give her insight into where his fiercely protective nature came from. She leaned forward and kissed him, to which he gave an appreciate growl. “I bet ye made yer da verra proud.” Uncertainty, unmistakable as the sky darkening when the sun went down, fell across his face and cast it in shadow. Lena frowned. “Alex? Did yer da nae ever tell ye he was proud of ye?”
“He did,” Alex replied, his tone gruff and his face, which had been open with their talk moments ago, closing off. “My da was nae one to hold back praise or advice.”
“What sort of advice did he give ye?” she asked, curious but also sensing there was something important his father might have said that Alex was not revealing.
Alex yawned and stood, and when he picked up her léine from the ground, disappointment and sadness settled over her. He was going to make her sleep in her bedchamber. Considering his previous violent dream, she knew it was wise, but it still made her sad. If only he would open up to her, mayhap his secrets would not haunt him in his sleep.
He turned toward her. “A man must be braw and a laird fearless. Whereas a man could have weakness, a laird could nae.”
