She added several drops to the water as Steenie and his companion added four large buckets of water, raising the level within the tub to the desired depth. The soothing scent of lavender, rosemary, and a hint of heather filled the room as a sheen of the oil spread across the ripping surface of the bath. A third lad, smaller than Steenie and his mate, hurried into the room, struggling under the weight of two more overfull buckets. “Want we should bring some more, m’lady?” the boy asked. “Mrs. Breckenridge says she’ll set the laundress to boiling more if need be.”
“Nay, Willie.” Sorcha tried not to smile at the boy’s heroic effort to keep up with the other two lads, even though they were twice his size. “This is plenty. Just leave those two beside the tub for rinsing. I thank ye all for such fine fast work. Tell Cook I said ye’re to have a reward for yer valiant efforts. Ale and fresh baked bread with as much butter and honey as ye wish.”
“Thank ye, m’lady,” the three sang out in unison, then scooted out a great deal faster than when they had entered.
Sorcha closed the door behind them then turned to find Sutherland wearing nothing but his lèine and a smile. His obviously improved mood pleased her. She hated seeing him so distraught—and the longer she had insisted on waiting to christen their marriage bed, the more easily his moodiness flared at anyone foolish enough to cross him. But they had been wise to wait. She felt sure of it. Old Aderyn was never wrong.
It wasn’t as though the waiting had been easy on her either. She pressed a hand to her throat, then fanned herself. The room suddenly seemed overly warm, and it was his fault. The sight of him stirred the memories of all he had done to tempt her. He’d been relentless with heated kisses and unabashed nakedness—flaunting all she could enjoy if she would only allow it. She pressed her thighs together, fighting the return of the hungry aching that had become a constant companion. Even now, the muscular lines of his legs and his hardened member shone proudly through his tunic.
“Into the tub with ye,” she said, irritated at the squeak in her voice. Sutherland’s intent stare, filled with determination and enough heat to warm the entire keep, made her feel all squirmy inside. She hurried to gather the crock of soap and a washrag. Her breath caught and held when she turned from the table to find her husband stripped-down naked as the day he was born.
He stood beside the tub, wide stance, broad chest flexed, and jaw set to a defiant tilt. “The only way this is going to happen, m’love, is if ye join me. Today is the day, Sorcha. Ye promised.”
Mouth gone dry and heart pounding, she forced a swallow to be able to speak. “Join ye?”
“Aye, my love,” he said in a rumbling tone that weakened her knees. “It is time, and ye know it as well as I.”
Time. Allowing her gaze to dip down past the rippling muscles of his torso, Sutherland’s meaning was as clear as a Highland stream. And heaven help her, he was so right. The breath-stealing mountain of a man seemed hale enough to sire the healthiest of babies. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she motioned toward the tub. “Why dinna ye get in the tub and be warming yerself whilst I undress, aye?”
“Trust me, mo ghràdh, I am warm aplenty.” He closed the distance between them in two broad strides. “Allow me to help ye with yer laces.” His voice was softer now, seductive and gentle as a loving caress.
It was well enough that he offered his help. Her hands trembled, and she doubted she could manage them even though the bodice she had chosen laced up the front and displayed her favorite embroidered stomacher. Before she could answer, he moved closer and ever so slowly began sliding the ties free.
She stared down at his hands, so tanned even though the dead of winter had barely passed. His long fingers mesmerized her, as did the rippling muscles of his forearms. Saints above, how was a woman able to manage breathing whenever her husband touched her?
He tossed aside the bodice, stomacher, and stays, then gently turned her to untie the waist of her skirts and petticoats. As they fell down around her feet, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m crazed with