A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,104
as she knelt, and the word came out of his throat with a tortured groan.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she promised.
Callum groaned again, though she’d yet to even touch him.
“Where is it?” she demanded.
“Where is what?” Surely, she didn’t mean the beast between his thighs? That was hidden if only for the moment, but not for long, because even as the scent of her reached his nostrils, enhanced by the steam from the tub, his erection thickened and throbbed, threatening to free itself of all restraints.
“Elizabeth!” he protested again, as her hand dove into the water, and Callum twisted uncomfortably as she brushed his thigh.
Elizabeth didn’t know what got into her, but having reassured herself that this was the best course of action, she was now determined.
She didn’t wish to marry a boy. She wanted to marry a man—this man.
And neither was she entirely ignorant of what must be done. She understood the dangers of being in such close proximity with a naked man. In fact, that was precisely the end result she anticipated. She merely lacked the skills to know how to get what she wanted without asking for it, and no matter that she had always considered herself to be quite outspoken and yes, even intrepid, she didn’t anticipate the words that came out of her mouth.
“What?” she asked innocently. “If you won’t allow me to tend to your wound, I must help you wash. Therefore, I am searching for the soap.”
“That is my… leg,” he said.
“Of course it is—because you blocked my hand.”
“The soap,” he declared. “Is still in my hand.”
Elizabeth smiled coyly. “Oh.”
“You don’t want to wash me,” he said.
“Oh, but I do! It’s the least I can do.”
He frowned. “No, it isn’t.”
Elizabeth batted her lashes. “Well, I can’t very well sit about like an empty headed miss whilst you bathe,” she reasoned.
He was still scowling at her. “Of course, you can.”
“My lord, in case you didn’t realize, that is insulting,” Elizabeth said. “Women are not objects to be passively admired. I would therefore like to be of use,” she said more firmly.
“Elizabeth,” he warned, the sound of her name already achingly familiar on his lips.
Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly. The scent of him so close was intoxicating—a combination of sweat, horse and … man. It made her nostrils flare and she inched closer to catch another whiff…
Holy Christ in heaven above, Callum thought.
She’s too close—too close!
Neither did he miss the delicate flare of her nostrils as she inhaled his masculine scent and the not-so subtle way it drew her closer for another sniff. Ach, God, she was his wife now, and despite that he’d sworn not to avail himself of her bountiful gifts, it was all he could do to keep his head. “Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely, as she moved even closer.
“Callum,” she said, and God help him, that single word was like a balm to his wounded heart. It soothed him in a way that the healer’s efforts never could.
In fact, at the moment, his greatest ache was not the injury on his shoulder nor the one on his thigh… it was the one in his heart… and the one now throbbing between his legs.
Helplessly caught in the prison of her eyes, he released his hold on his cock and let it slip, to rise to a full salute. At the feel of it cresting the water, he swallowed convulsively, and though she must have heard the thrashing of water, she didn’t immediately appear to notice.
He seized her by the wrist, reveling in the feel of his tartan ribbon still bound there. “Elizabeth,” he said again, and the sound was as much a plea as he dared.
He wanted to command her to leave the room, but, in truth, deep down he sensed that this woman’s affection was exactly what could save him… not only tonight, but for all time.
As he stood there, basking in the promise of her gaze, he was like a drowning man reaching for a line…
There needn’t be any words spoken…
Not now.
Elizabeth had never been more certain of anything in all her life.
Gone was the effort of pretense. Her woman’s heart reveled in the feel of his strong hand closed about her wrist. Her nipples pebbled against her gown, fully revealed by the water that had splashed upon her chemise. His gaze was drawn there, as well, and he, too, swallowed, the hunger in his gaze making her feel… empowered.
“Am I not your wife?” she asked softly, sensually, sensing the moment could