Highlander's Hope (24 page)

Chapter 28

From the tub Yvette called, “Nessia, hang the light blue silk with the white organza overskirt to air, please.” Her lips curved. The Luckenbooth brooch would look exquisite pinned at the bodice.

Lathering the sponge with jasmine scented soap, she listened to Nessia moving about in the outer chamber. A door closed. The wardrobe no doubt. Nessia was adapting to her role as a lady’s maid with considerable finesse. Yvette was quite pleased with the sweet-tempered girl.

Resting her head against the tub’s tall edge, careful not to dislodge her loosely piled hair, she let her eyes drift closed. The warm water felt wonderful slipping across her skin.

No word had reached her yet of Ewan’s return to the castle. She had asked to be informed the moment he arrived. She allowed herself these few moments to collect her wits and decide what she was going to say to her husband.

Husband.

The word caused goose bumps to rise on her exposed skin. She had been married for a moon, yet she was as jittery as a new bride. A disturbing idea flitted through her mind. What if the delay in Ewan’s return was due to his disapproval? Mayhap, he had not liked the changes she had made in the village.

Suddenly anxious, she sat up, then reached for a fluffy towel.

“Nae, stay wife.”

Her startled squeak was muffled by the water’s sloshing as she sank into the tub with only her head exposed above the bubbles. Lord have mercy, what was
he
doing in her bathing chamber?

Rotating to peep over the edge of the tub, Yvette started to question his presence. “Ewan?” She stopped, her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. He stood, stripping off his clothing, a wicked grin on his face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sank even deeper into the bubbles.

Ewan’s non-apologetic chuckle sent shivers skittering across her sensitive flesh. She tried, to swallow the nervous lump in her throat.

“Scoot forward,
mon amour
.”

“You mean to join me?”

“Aye, and much more.”

More? Much more? Sweet Lord, help her.

“Nessia?” Yvette asked.

“I told her you would not need her services this afternoon, or evening.”

“Ewan?” Hesitation laced her voice.

“You can trust me
, bien amour
.”

Arms crossed, knees drawn to her chest, she scooted forward, exposing her back to his gaze.

He stepped into the tub.

She sucked in a sharp breath, tensing as the water level rose, announcing her husband’s presence. She waited, anticipating his touch. When it didn’t come, she dared to steal a look over her shoulder. His hair was lathered with soap. Grinning, he winked at her. A nuance of desire smoldered in his eyes.

Whatever was the man about?

More splashing and lapping of the water stirred her curiosity, though she wasn’t about to peep again. She knew when he lifted the pail of warm water to rinse his hair.

‘Tis a wonder the water hasn’t spilled over the tub’s edge, she pondered inanely. A raspy rubbing sounded behind her. He must be toweling his hair dry.

No, she would not look.

She started in surprise when a gentle, soothing palm ran across her shoulders and backbone.

Ewan traced the ragged scar on her right shoulder with his calloused forefinger. “How did you come by this,
chérie
?”

The air wouldn’t leave Yvette’s lungs. She stuttered, “Ch—child, c—carriage accident, k—killed my mother.”

“I’m sorry,
mon amour.
”

He kissed the puckered skin.

She tensed, holding herself rigid.

“
Ma belle
, relax.”

Was the man daft? Relax? She was an untried maid, naked in a bathtub with her equally naked husband. Good Lord, relaxing was the
last
thing she was capable of doing.

His legs grazed the sides of hers, cradling her between their muscular length. She gulped, then gulped again. God in heaven, she felt taut as a bow string. One of Ewan’s large hands trailed the lightest of caresses the length of her jaw and neck, then skimmed across her shoulders.

Yvette shivered.

His hands slipped around her waist, tugging her against his chest. “Lean back, Evvy.”

Releasing a pent-up sigh, she gingerly rested her stiff shoulders against Ewan’s rugged width. Another low chuckle echoed in his chest. His hands continued to caress her shoulders, sliding down her arms in a hypnotic, calming touch. She felt herself relaxing, the tension easing from her limbs.

Ewan’s hands moved lower in their exploration, feathering across her abdomen and the tops of her thighs. He nuzzled her neck, placing light kisses across the nape and along her shoulders.

Something nudged against her buttocks. Lawks, what was that?

Oh!

She dipped her head as heat seared her cheeks.

“I missed ye, wife.”

That was quite obvious.

A low rumbling purr tickled Yvette’s ear. “Did ye miss me?” 

Did I?

Yvette nodded her head, too distracted by the tender, yet thorough examination of her husband’s roaming hands. Startled, she gasped when he cupped her breasts, then held them above the water for his viewing.

“Beautiful,” he breathed in her ear.

He touched the mole on her breast. There was something arousing about seeing her smooth white breasts cradled in his calloused, brown hands.

Before releasing them to bob atop the surface, he swirled rough fingers round the nipples. Desire, hot and intense flamed within her. She shifted her position, accidentally sitting on
it
.

Lord Almighty.

His knowing laugh rumbling deep in his chest stirred the embers of her desire even more.

With one hand, Ewan turned her head. She met his burning eyes before her gaze lowered to his lips. Her own parted in expectation. The kiss was soul shattering, igniting an uncontainable blaze. Fierce in hungry intensity, it lasted several delicious moments. There was nothing gentle or subtle in the dueling tongues or gasping breaths, as she sought to breathe amid the mutual onslaught of sensuality.

Water sloshed onto the floor. She didn’t care.

Yvette gasped as his exploration became bolder, his hands daring to sweep across forbidden territory.

“The water cools,
mon amour
.”

Ewan kissed Yvette’s shoulder. “I don’t want you catching a chill again.”

He rose, then stepped from the tub, his gaze roaming over her. Tendrils of flaxen hair framed her face. Her skin glistened in the candlelight, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her gaze darted to his erection and skipped away just as quickly. She licked her lips, and desire shot straight to his groin.

The temptress. Had she done that on purpose?

Of course not. She’s just curious and nervous. He quickly toweled off admonishing himself.
Patience, old chap, patience
.

He helped her from the water. She stood submissive, her cheeks crimson, as he patted her dry. Turning her until she faced him, Ewan stood at arm’s length. His eyes roamed her luscious curves.

Burying his hands in her silky hair, he tugged the pins loose. The bounty of curls fell to swirl around her supple hips. Pulling Yvette to him, her round breasts pressing against his chest, he took her mouth again, this time in an imitation of the act he yearned to perform with her inexperienced body.

He lifted her, never breaking their passionate kiss. He strode to her bed. Earlier, he’d turned the covers to the foot, so as not to hinder his love play. Resting one knee on the bed, Ewan laid her across the sheets.

Kneeling by her side, he studied her.

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the imperfect panes, casting rainbows across the bed. “Perfection,” He grasped one thick, golden strand and drew it between her breasts to rest across her stomach.

Summoning unmitigated willpower, he forced himself to take it slow. Generously curved in the right places, Yvette was everyman’s fantasy. And, she was his wife. Through narrowed slits, his eyes took in her voluptuous figure. Small waist, rounded hips and thighs, weighty breasts, slim arms, and curved stomach.

Her siren’s form begged him to make her his, though she was unaware of the sensual song her innocent’s body sang to his, or the blatant invitation in her sultry eyes. He could smell her subtle scent, and see her body’s every response to his gaze.

Yvette was incapable of moving. Something in the predatory, possessive way Ewan stared at her stirred a primitive female response. She wanted his approval, needed him to admire her body. She stole a look at her curvy hips and thighs. She’d always thought she was too generous from the waist down. From the hungry look on Ewan’s face, she guessed he didn’t think so.

She ran her gaze over him.

Lord above
,
he was a powerfully built man. Muscles bulged in his arms and legs, and across the width of his chest and torso. Dark springy hair covered the expanse, trailing to a nest of, crisp black curls from which his maleness sprang.

How could she accommodate
that
? She swallowed. She wasn’t afraid. Well, maybe the teeniest bit uneasy. She swallowed again.

Ewan trailed one finger from the pulse beating at her throat, to the center of her chest to circle the taut peak of her left breast. Yvette’s eyes watched the steady, determined progress of his forefinger. Leaving off teasing that breast, his finger traced a pattern of sensation to her other areola. Her nipple firmed in anticipation. Starting at the widest part of her breast, he drew an ever smaller circle until his finger scraped across the protruding tip.

God above. She sucked in a breath of incredible longing and desperate desire.

His manhood pulsed against her thigh. Her eyes widened at the single droplet of moisture glistening on her skin. Where did that come from? She’d no time to wonder, because suddenly, he was beside her, pulling her into his solid embrace. He whispered words of love, making love to her with his skillful mouth and knowing hands.

“Ewan, I don’t know what to do.”

He paused to reassure her.

“If you like it,
enchanteresse
, chances are, I shall too.”

Holding her breath, she watched his mouth close over one breast, bathing her in glorious sensation. “Ewan—”

The air left her in a whoosh as she said his name. He switched to her other breast, lavishing loving ministrations on its fullness too. Yvette pressed against him, her hands and lips exploring his broad planes and firm flesh. She was floating on a sea of desire, aching at her very center.

This was more than she’d dared hope. Her fingers boldly trailed over his buttocks. She loved the feel of him beneath her fingertips. She knew she was ready to accept him, knew only he could ease the incessant, internal pressure.

She wiggled her hips in frustration, seeking release from the accumulation of sensation. She felt she’d burst if he didn’t do something.

“Easy,
chérie
.” He reached between them, touching her core.

She moaned. “Ewan, please.” Opening her eyes, she tugged at his shoulders.

“Aye, love, ye are ready.”

Ewan shifted her, pulling her hips beneath his.

She stared at him. At last.

He took her lips in a tender kiss. “I’m sorry,
mon amour
, there’s no help for it, I’m a large man.” In one swift, powerful movement, he surged forward, penetrating her.

Yvette choked on a cry of pain. For the love of God, why had no one told her of the pain? Was there supposed to be pain?

“Shh,
chérie
. The pain will ease.”

It seems there was.

Ewan lay still atop her, his elbows bearing most of his weight, except where his hips were locked with hers. Bit-by-bit he moved, pushing deeper into her, before withdrawing part way.

She bit her lip. Lud, what is he doing now?

He moved again.

The stinging discomfort ebbed, replaced by another fluttery feeling. Stretched to the ends of her endurance, she tilted her hips seeking succor. Sharp little darts of pleasure pricked her where he remained fully sheathed.

His strong body joined with hers was beyond anything she had ever imagined. She was awash in sensation. Losing all sense of time, of awareness, their physical union was secondary to the fusing of their souls. All that remained was the two of them in an age-old, glorious communion.

She spiraled, faster and faster, striving toward what she knew not, until she reached the pinnacles and crashed over the top. At her peak, before reality shattered and she plummeted into nothing but pulsating sensation, she cried, “Ewan.”

Her sobs of ecstasy were absorbed in his open mouth. A moment later, she felt him stiffen in her arms. His low growl of fulfillment followed.

Yvette lay in the aftermath of their lovemaking, incapable of moving. Ewan had collapsed atop her, his head buried in her shoulders as potent tremors wracked his body. She had not understood how extraordinary, how powerful their union would be. He had brought her to heaven and back. She lay under him, stunned. Sweet Lord, how wondrous physical joining was.

She almost cried out when he withdrew. He rolled onto his side, carrying her with him. Her head rested on his solid shoulder while his hands strummed a soothing rhythm across her curves.

His embrace tightened. “I love you.”

Smiling, Yvette tilted her head to look into his eyes. Raising her hand, she traced his scar. “I . . . I never imagined it would be like that.”

Why didn’t she tell him she loved him? Why was she still holding back? Fear? Pride?