Part 8 (2/2)

Once again, as before, the room was lit. Stone-colored tile covered the floor and was cool beneath his bare feet. A large looking-gla.s.s reflected both the light and their image. A basin sat in the midst of a marble slab on one wall. A seat that appeared to be a cross between a chamber pot and a throne stood in one corner. A large tub, he a.s.sumed for was.h.i.+ng, took up one short wall.

She turned him to look behind them. ”And this-” she opened a gla.s.s door and tugged on a large b.u.t.ton and a smaller one beneath it and water flowed through two devices coming out of the mirrored wall ”-this is a hot shower.”

She stepped inside. ”Come on in. The water's fine.”

He did her bidding. Warm water sluiced over him in a truly decadent pleasure. He sighed. ”Aye. 'Tis like standing beneath a waterfall on a warm day-only better because even on a warm day, the burn runs cold.”

”The previous owners were apparently shower enthusiasts. Most aren't this large.” Water darkened her hair from flaxen to brown. Her skin gleamed alabaster with the water's sheen. ”For the first part of my payment, I thought I'd bathe you.”

Standing beneath the water was pleasure in itself. Add to that her hands on his skin. ”You'll get no argument from me.”

”I'll start with your hair.” She picked up a bottle and eyed the shelf that formed a bench on one end of the enclosure. ”And I think this will work nicely.” She stood up on the tile seat.”Voila.”

Her perch brought her lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s to mouth level. He grasped her at her waist, her skin soft and wet and warm beneath his hands. ”Aye, this is grand,” he said. He leaned forward and captured one perfect tip in his mouth.

”Darach...” She leaned forward, into him.

He suckled and the bud tightened against his tongue. He slid his hands up her water-kissed skin, over her middle to cup her globes, one in each hand. He moved his attention to the other one, sucking and licking until it too pebbled with need and Kate's sighs echoed off the tile and gla.s.s wall. Ah, this was one of the finer things in life, the dual sensations of warm water coursing over his shoulders and down his back, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands and mouth.

She pulled back. ”If you keep that up, my legs are going to be too weak to hold me up.”

He grinned. ”Sorry, Katie-love, it's just that with temptation staring me in the face....” He flicked his tongue against one of her pink pearls.

”Then let's put temptation out of reach.” She turned him around to face the mirrored wall and torrent of water.

”I would much rather be looking at your teats than at myself.”

”Hush.” She laughed and slapped him on his a.r.s.e.

For one second he was stunned and then he laughed. ”G.o.d's tooth you are bold, la.s.s. Nary a man nor woman has slapped me on me a.r.s.e since myDa when I was but a lad.”

She smiled, full of s.e.xy sa.s.s, over his shoulder at him in the mirror. ”Then it's long overdue.”

He pretended to scowl at her reflection. ”Aye, you've fire enough when my back is turned.”

Had he ever made light with a la.s.s this way? Nay. He'd never been so inclined.

Kate buried her fingers in his wet hair and began to work in fragrant soap that smelled faintly familiar. It was her scent, the scent that clung to her skin and hair, the scent that heated him through. She rubbed and kneaded from the front of his head to the back and along his neck. Darach groaned aloud from the pleasure of her fingers dancing against his scalp. ”Ah, you've a magic touch, Katie-love.”

”I'm glad you like it.”

He more than liked it. The warm water and the rhythm of her hands against his scalp and on his shoulders lulled him. Yet in another part of him, her scent and her touch and her very nearnessfueled his want for her and hardened his rod.

She kneaded and plied her hands along his arms. She stepped down from the bench and continued stroking his muscles down the length of his back. She worked her hands over his b.u.t.tocks and the backs of his legs. The saucy wench reached between his legs and cupped his heavy sac and he shuddered at her touch. She stroked his member with her soap-slicked hands, rousing the interest of his rod.

”Mayhap we can run into another harridan of your acquaintance so I can once again earn your indebtedness. I've a definite liking for your payment.”

She stroked him again and his c.o.c.k surged in her hand. ”I think that is a fine plan.” She reached around him and smoothed her hands over his belly and up his chest, her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their tight points pressing against his back. ”You are without a doubt, the most perfect specimen of a man I've ever seen.”

He knew women looked at him and the women he'd bedded had been free with their flattery. But there'd always been the knowledge, in the back of his mind, that he was their laird and as such, they had a stake in flattering him. But he was no laird to Katie.

He looked over his shoulder with an uncharacteristic self-consciousness. ”Ye have obviously forgotten about my scar and my nose.”

She traced the scar's path with one finger. ”No. I haven't forgotten it at all. I think it's a mark of courage and honor.” She turned him to face her and tilted his head back beneath the stream of warm water, rinsing the soap from his hair. ”And what's wrong with your nose?”

”'Tis more of a beak than a nose.” At least that had been his brothers' take on it when they were lads.

She cupped his jaw in her hand and peered at him, head c.o.c.ked to one side. ”It's strong, like you. I can't imagine your face with anything different. You'd look silly with anything less. As it stands now, you're gorgeous and extremely s.e.xy.”

Her words pleased him, warmed him, in a way that had nothing to do with s.e.x. ”Katie-love, you're a bit of a daft la.s.s.” He teased her to cover how much her words pleased him, but there wasn't much that got by Katie. Her eyes held a knowing look.

”Then I'm in good company 'cause you're one daft Scotsman.”

He popped her on her a.r.s.e. ”'Tis bold and brawny, not daft.”

She gasped and pretended outrage. ”You're pus.h.i.+ng your luck, Scotsman.”

He hadn't made light like this since the day he'd traded his family and his childhood to theCampbells for the promise of a few more minutes of fun. Aye, his heart had not been this light since.

With a start he realized he'd thought of that time without a blackness settling over his soul. Did she but know it, Kate was a true healer, of not just body, but mind and soul as well.

He s.h.i.+fted closer and caught her up to him, savoring the slide of her wet skin against his. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, his tongue finding and toying with hers. He cupped her a.r.s.e in his hands and pulled her tighter and harder against him, his c.o.c.k unerringly finding the curls between her thighs. She wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed against him. With her bottom in his hands, he slid one finger against her slit. Ah, she was wet. Not the wet of streaming water, but the slicker, hotter wet borne of want. He eased a finger into her and she ground down on it, making small noises of pleasure.

”When I first saw your portrait at the museum it...affected me. I was more aroused by you in a picture than I had ever been by a man in real life. Every time I came home from the museum, a terrible l.u.s.t came with me. But not just for any man. For you.” She spoke the truth. She was wet and hot and slick against his finger. ”One of my favorite fantasies about us was in here.”

She scattered kisses along his jaw and to his ear. Her tongue teased his ear's edge and heat rushed through him. She edged away from his c.o.c.k, replacing her mound with her hand. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked while she swirled her tongue about his nipple.

Was there anything more potent to a man's libido than a woman whispering in his ear how much she'd wanted him before she'd even met him? He was more than willing to partic.i.p.ate in whatever it was she'd created in her mind.

”And what would that be Katie-love?” He captured a drop of water on her shoulder with his tongue. ”Tell me how to make your fantasy come true.”

”In my fantasy, you sit here.”

He sank onto the warm, wet tile that formed a seat.

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