The laird and his wife watched them go. Kier Douglas then told his wife that he was going hunting, for their larder needed more game if they were to get through the winter. He walked away, feeling her eyes upon his back as he went. Was it possible, truly possible, that she might love him one day? And was the queen right? Was he coming to love her? He shook his dark head. Love was a weakness. He had to remember that. The only time he had given his heart he had been cruelly rejected. The shock of it had sapped him of his strength, ofhis very will to live. He had been horrified by how he had felt for so many weeks afterwards.
Kier Douglas had thought he would never recover from the blow to his heart delivered by a small girl with honey gold hair. He could not believe that the bitch had almost destroyed him. And he had vowed never to allow his emotions to get away from him again. But now here was Cicely. Cicely, his wife, who had lain in his arms and praised his prowess in their bed. An English girl. His cousin’s widow. He didn’t like her.He didn’t!She was outspoken, beautiful, brave. All the things she shouldn’t be. But he had to admit to himself that she was a perfect border wife, and he had a grudging respect for her. And her passions certainly matched his. What more did he want? He wanted her to love him, God help him!He wanted her to love him!And if she did, then perhaps he could allow himself to love her.
Chapter 17
While he had come to her bed, Kier had not taken her since their wedding night. She had been puzzled at first, but then she realized he was considering all that had happened between them. They had coupled twice, and both times their passions had exploded wildly. Cicely began to wonder if it would always be that way between them. Nay. It was their pent-up abstinence that had brought about such near violence between them. Surely that was it.
Cicely requested a bath that first evening they were finally without guests. She was soaking peacefully when her husband entered the small bedchamber. Both Cicely and Orva looked startled, for he had not bothered to knock.
“Good night, Orva,” the laird said in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Orva curtsied, casting a quick glance at her mistress. “Good night, my lord, my lady,” she said, reluctantly departing when Cicely said nothing. The chamber door closed.
“You bathe muchly,” Kier remarked as he began pulling his clothes off.
“You should bathe more,” Cicely replied. “I don’t know why it is men avoid bathing except in the summer, when they swim in the loch and count it a bath.”
“I don’t want to smell like some damned flower,” he said.
“But you like it when I do,” Cicely noted mischievously.
“Aye.” He grinned. “I do.”
“You stink of horses and sweat,” she told him.
“If you can swear to me honestly that you got my cousin to bathe more, then I will bathe more, too,” he promised her.
Cicely laughed a wicked laugh. “Of course he learned to bathe more. He wanted to please me. Come!” She held out her hand to him over the top of the tub. “You are naked now, and I will bathe you myself. When you learn how to do it properly I will make you a soap that is scented with sandlewood and clove, a more manly fragrance. The quicker you learn how to wash yourself, the less you will smell like a stable.”
He had never bathed with a woman. It was an intriguing invitation. Of course, he could haul her from her tub and have his way with her without bathing. He was the laird of Glengorm, her husband, and he was to be obeyed. But he realized she was making an attempt to reach out to him, to offer more than just public respect and private lust. He remembered how it had been between his stepmother and father. They actually seemed to enjoy each other’s company, smiled secret smiles at each other, laughed at things he did not consider amusing but they did. They were more than content. They were happy in each other’s company.
He climbed the small steps up to the edge of the tub, then lowered himself into the warm water, facing her. It occurred to him that she was fully naked herself, and he began to consider the many possibilities of bathing that had little to do with cleanliness. Kier Douglas began to smile. When Cicely stepped before him, a washrag in her hand, the tips of her breasts touched his chest, and his cock began to stir.
Cicely began to wash his face. The cloth scrubbed his forehead, his cheeks, and his chin. It followed the outline of his nose, and then his mouth. The smell of the soap was actually very pleasant and delicate.
“Your face is even handsomer when it is clean, despite its roughness,” she noted, her fingers running over the dark stubble. She next moved to wash his neck. “When I was a child, before I was old enough to bathe myself, Orva did it for me,” Cicely told him. “If she saw a neck as dirty as yours is, my lord, she would have asked you if you were growing onions in it.” Cicely washed the dirt from his neck, and then rinsed the soap away.
She next tackled his shoulders, chest, and back, her cloth working up a lather, then rinsing it away. Then she moved on to his long arms and his hands. “Your nails need paring,” she said. “I shall do it when we remove ourselves from the tub, my lord.” She moved with care so as not to splash water from the tub onto the floor. The addition of another person to the tub had brought the water dangerously high, to the tub’s edge. When she had finished his arms she handed him the cloth. “You will have to do the rest now,” she told him, easing herself up from the water onto the tub’s ledge, and swinging her legs about, her feet reaching for the stairs. Finding them, she stood and stepped down.
“But I don’t know how,” he said in a futile attempt to sound helpless. He was staring at her now, and his cock had hardened as his eyes swept over her nakedness.
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded him. “Of course you know how to wash your legs, feet, and other parts. If I tried to help you we would have water all over the chamber.” Then she quickly picked up her warm towel and began to dry herself, aware of his eyes on her nudity. He had never really seen her quite so fully bared. Cicely reached out for her chemise and made to draw it on.
“Don’t!”he told her sharply.
“Oh. Very well, my lord, but if you do not mind I will await you in bed. The night air is chill, and the heat of the fire is somewhat blocked by the tub,” Cicely said, climbing into her bed and drawing the covers up.
“Will you not dry me?” he teased, and climbed from the tubdown the steps to the floor. His aroused state was so obvious she blushed.
“Dry yourself,” she told him. “You are a big lad.”
“You noticed.” He chuckled, rubbing the water briskly from his body.
Cicely giggled. She couldn’t help it. “Aye, I’ve noticed,” she admitted, thinking that something was different tonight between them. What was it? And why? Was there some kind of relief in the fact that their marriage was now a fact, or that their guests were gone, and they were alone in the house but for the staff and wee Johanna? She felt the bed shift as he climbed in, sitting next to her, his back against the pillows.
“Well, madam,” he said softly, “here we are once again. Are you satisfied now that I smell like a field of posies?” He took her hand in his.
“I must wash your hair on the morrow to be content with you,” Cicely said to him. The big hand wrapped about her fingers was warm.
