My Cursed Highlander (29 page)

Though curious about the process, he decided it best not to pursue the issue, but intended to have her smooth again verra soon. He dumped the contents of her toiletries onto the desk and rummaged through her personal items, searching for the soap that made her smell like oranges. Among the clutter of creams and lotions, he found a vial of rose scented oil, pearl-tipped hair pins, combs made of tortoise shell, and the pair of jeweled clips the Duke of Savoy had given her.

His jaw clenched, reminded of what the bastard had done, but the Duke of Savoy's actions were not to be blamed on Viviana. The fact she'd kept the gift did color his temper. However, given she'd stored the clips with her other hair adornments, he guessed she had no idea what purpose they served.

Did he dare enlighten her?

He barely pondered the question, before plucking the baubles out of the pile along with a selection of scents and set them atop a cuttie stool he positioned beside the tub. He bent to one knee and gathered her dark tresses into one hand. "Put your head back."

"I can bathe myself."

A little tug forced her to follow his instructions. "I have taken care of ye for more than a sennight." Using a copper cup, he poured hot water over her head. "This bath should be no different from the one I gave ye three days passed."

"It was a sponge bath, and I was barely conscious."

"Then I daresay ye are overdue for a good scouring."

She exhaled with a rumble. Oh, the woman was cursing him in her head. No doubt a slew of foreign expletives sat on her tongue. Surprisingly, she held on to them.

Taveon lingered over his duty, mayhap to torment her, but mostly because he enjoyed pampering her. After rinsing her raven hair, he attempted to pull a comb through the tangles.

"
Uffa!
" She reached over her head, swatting at his hand.

"Shush, woman. Your hair is a mass of knots. 'Tis just like Makayla's."

Her shoulders fell and her head tilted. "You wash your daughter's hair?"

"When I can catch her." Taveon crooked his neck in time to witness her smile. "Ye are surprised?"

Viviana nodded. "I assumed Makayla had a nursemaid to tend such tasks."

Taveon thought of Poppet and how her every breath invoked fear at Ravenhurst. "My kin are a superstitious people. As the only female descendant of Kael Kraig, Makayla is seen by some as a portent of the curse. She was born a hundred years and a hundred days after Elise cursed the clan. The kinsfolk choose to believe her existence is an omen. I'm inclined to believe she represents just the opposite."

Viviana held silent while he fought her tangles. He eventually won the battle.

"Does Makayla have any friends?"

"Aside from the animals she harbors in the stable, she has me, and her Uncle Keegan and Auntie Cora." Taveon thought of the women in the burial ground—the spirits Makayla claimed danced around the ancient stone. They had been Makayla's
friends
until Lily came. "Remi's youngest, Jack, tries to browbeat her, but she is older and can hold her own against him. She has one friend—Lily. But the child is mute."

"I will not treat her in like. I know what it is like to be alone. The orphanage wasn't exactly a feeding ground for long lasting friendships. Makayla will never know such isolation as long as she accepts me as her friend."

Pressure built behind his ribs. He'd hoped Viviana would accept her place as Makayla's mother. "She's a bundle of high energy and is sure to test your patience. I fear I have coddled her, and she is in need of a heavy hand and much discipline."

Viviana snorted. "I can assure you, I will not be the bearer of such discipline. I saw enough heavy handed punishments delved out at
Spedale degli Innocenti
. Sister De Rosa once beat a maid with a switch for dying a vestment red instead of purple during the Lenten season." Viviana propped her chin between her knees. "I fear those who played a motherly role in my life set a poor precedent for me. My own mother didn't want me, and Sister De Rosa abandoned Fioretta and I for a monk. I've received little maternal instruction, but I give you my vow of commitment; I will never abandon your daughter."

"I've every confidence ye will make a good mother." Taveon twisted her thick hair into a braid which he draped over her shoulder. He pushed thoughts of his kin aside and bent to kiss the curve of her neck, eager to return to his previous task.

The action brought Viviana out of her musings with the snap of her spine.

With the backs of his fingers still resting against her neck, he set the comb down atop the cuttie stool.

"Where did ye get those?" Her tone lifted in horror.

"Get what?" He glanced back at the contents sitting atop the cuttie stool.

"M'laird, I swear on all that is holy I only kept the hair clips because of their value. They mean naught to me."

"Should ye decide to part with them, I suspect they would bring a good price." He trailed his lips up her neck, not yet willing to share his secret.

Her fingertips dented the sides of her calves. "Then you are not angry that I kept them?"

"Nay." He rose to remove his braies and chausses. Taveon refused to allow the Duke of Savoy back into his head and stepped in behind her.

"What are ye about, m'laird?" She scooted forward as far as she could in the tub, which wasn't far given its size.

"I'm joining ye."

"There is hardly room," she argued, panic warbling her voice.

"Then I'll make room." He lifted her beneath her arms, took her place, then curled an arm around her waist and pulled her back atop him. Water flooded over the rim with his added bulk and sloshed all over the cabin floor. He would clean it later.

She squealed and squirmed, wiggling her rounded backside atop his erection. A battle of limbs ensued. Her arms shot out and clung to the edges while she fought the invasion of his legs between her thighs. He was hardly limber, but somehow managed to drape his legs over the edge of the tub, forcing her knees wide over his own.

"Settle, wife." The press of three fingers against her forehead forced her head atop his shoulder. He drank in the sight of her. Water filled her navel, but covered little else, gifting him with a spectacular view of her upturned nipples.

"M'laird, this is indecent." She covered her breasts.

"Nay. 'Tis not. We are husband and wife. Anything we choose to do in private has been sanctioned by our marriage contract. Anything," he repeated for emphasis and reached for the rose-scented oil. He positioned the amulet in the hollow of her neck then tipped the vial. A single droplet splashed between her breasts. "Now remove your hands."

She didn't oblige, but her backside flexed around his cock. He let another droplet fall.

"Two is enough," she said.

Two drops wouldn't be enough for what he intended. He poured the entire contents between her breasts and down her stomach, knowing the slickness would aid him later.

"M'laird! That was a very expensive oil."

"I'll buy ye more." He massaged the slippery substance into her skin, nearly choking on its potency. Within seconds a film coated the water's surface and seeped into his pores. He would most likely smell like a woman for a sennight, but it would all be worth it.

"I never want to deprive ye of fulfillment again." He shadowed her hands with his own and pushed her fingers over her navel toward her womanhood. "Show me how ye like to be touched."

She whipped her hand out from beneath his and grabbed hold of the rim. "No!"

"Why not?"

"Are you not the same man who said pleasuring yourself was an act of infidelity?"

"Nay," he strongly corrected her. "I said to do so in front of another man was an act of infidelity. To pleasure yourself in front of your husband is an act of trust." A trust he had every intention of gaining. He retrieved her hand and returned it to her breast. "Show me." He kissed her temple and squeezed.

The back of her head pressed into his shoulder and the rise and fall of her chest told him she wanted to participate, but was leery.

"Please," he whispered in a hoarse voice and kissed her jaw.

Slowly, she slipped her fingers out from under his and then covered his much larger hand with her own. She pinched his fingers over her nipple, showing him how much pressure she wanted him to apply.

He pulled her nipple out from her body, stroking the taut pebble like a tiny cock. He repeated the action with her other breast, pinching a little harder this time, testing her.

She moaned.

"Ye like it rough?" His bollocks tingled. He would give his sword arm to have his wife share his desire for aggression in their marriage bed.

"
Sì, sì,
" she hissed, shuddered, and slid her hand down her thigh, yet didn't quite make the plunge to where he knew she ached most.

"Dinnae be ashamed to teach me." He pushed her hand beneath the water, then flushed their laced fingers over her mound. His index finger followed hers between her swollen lips.

"Here." Spreading her knees wider over the rim of the tub, she showed him the place that brought her the most pleasure. Their fingers frolicked inside her like tongues dueling inside two lover's mouths. He titillated her nipple the same time he stimulated the treasure hidden inside her folds.

She was close. So close. Her walls tightened, sucking at his fingers. Mesmerized by her magnificence, he prayed she could look upon herself and see the purity in this bond.

She whimpered and rocked, gyrating her hips over an arousal desperate for attention, then a burst of heat flowed over his fingers. A heat far hotter than the water's temperature. A heat that was undeniably her release.

A stream of foreign words trickled out of her mouth, none of which he recognized, then her weight settled atop him. Her hands covered his. One rest atop her breast, while the other lie relaxed atop her sated sex. This was the trust he wanted. The abandonment of sexual timidity.

"Oh, Taveon. That was..." she hesitated, no doubt searching for the right word.

"Wonderful?" he provided for her.

"
Sì.
Wonderful."

"And that was just the beginning..."

Viviana barely registered his words as her insides fluttered with the aftermath of her orgasm. She was lost physically and mentally in a world of bliss. A world painted with the most vibrant colors she'd yet to see. Taveon's sun baked hand played over her pink skin drawing a path through the valley between her breasts and the curve of her stomach. Beneath his tickling fingertips, tiny hairs glistened with traces of rose oil, and the gooseflesh that sprouted contradicted the heat racing just beneath her skin.

"I'm not yet done with ye," he threatened and blew cool air over her already taut nipples.

Her pulse thrummed a steady beat in her core, greedily wanting anything this man might give her. She stroked his bristly calf with the side of her toe and laced her fingers through the waves at his nape. Her back arched in feline fashion, thrusting her pointed nipples into his talented hands. She should probably feel some smidgen of shame displayed as she was atop him; brazenly naked with her legs spread wide. But she didn't feel any shame at all. In fact, she'd never been prouder of the way she looked.

His gaze left her momentarily to collect one of the jeweled clips from atop the cuttie stool.

Her husband had lost his wit. His arousal felt like an iron rod beneath her bottom, and he wanted to play maid. "Do you intend to fashion my hair, again?"

He held the clip above her, letting the light of morn flicker over the green and purple gemstones. It was an odd trinket really. Gold crescent moons held together by a spring made a hollow circle at its base.

"I fear ye have mistaken their purpose." He trickled warm water over her left breast and again blew on the crinkled nubbin. "The clips are not adornments for your hair." He flicked her sensitive flesh.

She flinched. "Then what pray tell are they for?"

"For this." He pinched the clip open and clamped it over her distended nipple.

"
Uffa!
" A string of fire ripped through her insides. Every nerve in her body seemed to stand up and scream. Her hand flew to her breast, but he caught her wrist before she was able to remove the offensive device. Her other hand made a similar attempt, but he captured it as well. Nails bit into her palms, adding to a pain that caused a whimper to slip passed her parted lips. "It hurts."

"Shh... give it a moment." He closed his eyes and swirled his tongue around the whorl of her ear.

Just as she was about to protest further, the initial sting subsided and turned to a vibrating pulse that tapped each knob of her spine on its way to her womb. Her toes curled and her heels dug into the outside of the tub.

Taveon placed her wrists in one of his hands and reached for the other clamp. Her wits scrambled back to the forefront, as he prepared her other nipple with a burst of air.

"No." Viviana tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone bone dry. "No. Wait."

He flicked her pea-sized bit of flesh and held silent.

"Taveon!"

The man was the devil. He ignored her pleas and latched the other clamp on her right nipple.

"Oh,
cazzo!
" Her entire body quivered. Her backside clenched and her mons pounded with an intensity she'd never experienced. How could this agony bring her to such an extreme state of arousal?

Her eyes rolled and her pelvis shot out of the water with a splash.

"Tell me to remove them, and I will." He kissed her damp temple, her cheek, her jaw, then stroked her nether lips with long deft fingers. Her climax crawled to the surface like a tidal wave waiting to crash.

Pain turned to unadulterated pleasure in two fierce heartbeats. A haze of ecstasy lightened her head. She felt delirious. Her moan came out as half giggle, half cry. "You are a wicked man."

"Oh, aye. That I am, but I'm
your
wicked man, and while ye might not admit it now, ye are enjoying my attention." Taveon released her wrists and sat up taller behind her. She leaned forward and gripped the wooden rim in front of her which forced her legs to angle straight out from her hips. Hanging suspended over the edge by the backs of her knees, she touched the adornment attached to her breast.