16
For two long weeks Ailis had been kept in bed. For two more even longer weeks she had been forced to play the semi-invalid. She was heartily sick of all the pampering that had been heaped upon her. All around her spun the rumors of the MacCordys and the MacFarlanes preparing an attack, but she was protected from all of that. She knew that she had to take it easy, but her well-intentioned multitude of nursemaids carried matters much too far. It seemed to her that she was more well rested, more well fed, and far more healthy than she had ever been in her entire life. In the last two weeks she had begun to wean them all of their protective roles. Now she planned to end Alexander’s excessive gentleness with her and—specifically—his continued, self-imposed abstinence.
“Ye dinna need to build that fire up any more, Kate. ‘Tis summer or did ye forget that? Sweet heavens, I will soon be seared on this side,” Ailis grumbled as she got into her tub.
“ ‘Tis to keep away a chill.” Kate stubbornly put another log on the already-roaring fire.
“The only reason I contracted a chill was that I had to push myself so hard so soon after bearing Moragh.”
“Well, a body canna be too careful.”
“That proverb has recently been proved a great fallacy,” Ailis snapped. “This particular body has been ‘carefuled’ to death.”
“Why must ye bathe? Ye had a bath but two nights past.”
“How old is Moragh, Kate?” she asked.
Kate stared at Ailis in slight confusion. “Two months.”
“Exactly.” Ailis sent Kate a look she was sure a blind man could read and understand.
“Oh, I see.” Kate blushed furiously, but then brightened. “I have just what ye need.” She hurried out of the room.
After wrapping herself in a warm drying cloth, Ailis sat before the fire to let the heat dry her hair. She was busily plotting the best way to convince Alexander that she was not only able but quite willing to resume their lovemaking when Kate returned. Ailis took one look at the light, sultry linen and lace nightrail Kate held up and clapped her hands in delight. It was one of those pieces of soft flirtation every woman craved and most men found very alluring.
“Are ye sure ye are ready?” Kate asked as Ailis slipped on the thin nightrail.
“I willna embarrass ye by answering that,” Ailis drawled, but grinned when Kate giggled. “This ought to change his lairdship’s ways. Or, should I say, bring them back. I had never suspected that Alexander was hoping to be declared a saint. I hope he willna find the failure to obtain that lofty goal too painful to bear.”
Alexander felt near to breaking under the strain of his self-imposed celibacy. The last few days had been the worst. He had barely seen Ailis at all. To be close to her yet to be unable to touch her was more than he could bear.
After his bath he sprawled on his bed with a tankard of wine in his hand and wearing only a drying cloth wrapped loosely around his hips. He had hoped that feeling chill would keep away the fever for Ailis which consistently burned inside of him, but he could sense that it was not really working. The rich wine helped a little if only because it finished what hard work had begun and eventually sent him to sleep despite his aching need for Ailis.
A sound at the door that connected his bedchamber to the room Ailis now used drew him from his sullen slumber. He stared with widening eyes and slowly sat up as Ailis entered his bedchamber. She wore a white nightrail of the finest sheer linen trimmed with delicate falls of lace and pale blue ribbons. The gown heightened the soft golden hue of her skin and the deep blue-black color of her hair. Desire gripped him so fiercely he was unable to move.
“Do ye want something, Ailis?” he asked in a weak, hoarse voice as he struggled to lift his gaze from her well-displayed breasts to her face.
Ailis smiled as she walked over to his bed and sat down. “I see ye so little during the day that I thought we could sit and talk now.”
“Talk? What do ye wish to talk about?” He wondered frantically how a woman could look so seductive yet so innocent at the same time.
“I dinna ken. There must be matters of some sort that a husband speaks of with his wife.”
“Aye. Must be.”
No matter how hard he tried to think of some subject to discuss, Alexander found that he could only think of one thing—hurling Ailis down onto his bed. Her scent engulfed him. He was painfully aware of her slender thigh brushing up against his leg. A badly stifled groan escaped him as he lay down and closed his eyes.
“I would dearly like to talk with ye, lass, but I am far too weary this night,” he mumbled. “Ye had best go back to your own bed. We can try this at some other time, loving.”
Ailis slowly stood up, her hands set squarely on her hips. The little he wore was not enough to completely disguise his arousal, yet he was sending her away without even offering her a kiss. She wondered crossly just how long he felt she needed to heal from the birth and her fever. It also hurt that he did not seem to be as eager as she was to share some time together before the fighting began. She decided she would not wait for him to do something; she would act. Carefully she slipped out of her nightrail, laying it neatly over a stool near the bed. With far less care than speed she reached out and yanked off Alexander’s brief covering.
Alexander cried out in surprise, his eyes opening wide as he sat up. “What are ye about, ye mad lass? Jesu!” His words choked to a halt as he greedily looked her over, her inviting nakedness barely shielded from him by her thick hair.
“I said I was wanting to have a wee talk,” Ailis said.
“Talk?”
“Ye squeaked.” Ailis could not stop herself from giggling over hearing such a sound escape such a strong, beautiful man.
