“A dangerous woman,” he murmured.
“A prepared one,” she replied.
Baird did not answer her at once. Instead, he reached out slowly, as though any sudden movement might shatter the quiet she had so carefully built around them. His fingers brushed the fastening at her shoulder, asking without words.
Davina inhaled softly. “Baird,” she said, a question threaded through her voice, “what are ye daeing?”
He met her gaze, and for once there was nothing guarded there.
“Something I should have done sooner,” he replied.
She did not stop him.
He took that as permission and moved with deliberate care, untying, unfastening, easing each layer away as though it were precious. There was no haste in him and no hunger, only devoted attention. His hands lingered only long enough to ensure she was steady, comfortable, and unembarrassed.
She watched him with her dark eyes, trusting him utterly. When at last she stood before him in nothing but her shift, he paused, studying her as though committing the moment to memory.
“Ye are…” He stopped, then had to exhale. “Ye are extraordinary.”
Her lips curved. “So I am told.”
He smiled faintly and slipped the final layer from her shoulders, then offered his hand.
“Come,” he said.
The water steamed gently as he guided her into the tub, one careful step at a time, ensuring she did not slip. Only when she was settled did he follow, rolling up his sleeves before taking the cloth from the edge. Davina leaned back against the tub as the warm water lapped around them. He dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and began to wash her arms with unhurried strokes, reverent in their simplicity.
“What are ye daeing now?” she murmured, though there was a smile in her voice.
“Taking care of ye,” he said quietly.
She opened her eyes. “I dinnae need?—”
“I ken,” he interrupted gently. “But ye have taken care of me. Through worry, through foolishness, through days I would have broken meself apart if ye hadnae stood in me way.”
He moved the cloth with care, mindful of every breath she took. “Allow me this.”
She nodded just once. The water sloshed softly. The fire cracked low behind them. She leaned back against his chest, trusting her weight to him without hesitation. He steadied her with one arm, while he dipped the cloth beneath the surface. When he drew it up and laid it against her back, feeling the warmth of her body, it made him slow even further. He washed her with gentle strokes, mindful of how easily the moment might be disturbed.
Each time the cloth moved away, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the place he had just tended: her shoulder, then the smooth line between her shoulders, then lower, along the graceful curve of her spine. His lips lingered unhurried, as if he were searching to touch with something more lasting than care.
She turned within the narrow space of the tub and looked up at him. Steam softened her features but her eyes were clear.
“I never kent a touch could be so gentle,” she whispered.
Baird stilled, and for a moment, the cloth in his hand was forgotten. All he could do was look at her, the way her trust shone brighter than the lamplight. He lifted his free hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek.
“I learned it with ye,” he said quietly. “Or perhaps it was always there, waiting fer someone who mattered enough tae deserve it.”
Davina shifted gently, just enough to turn fully toward him. The water rippled softly between them as she lifted her hands to his shoulders. Her touch was soft, almost hesitant, as though she were still discovering the shape of this new tenderness.
Then, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, as her lips brushed his, lingering as if to be certain he was really there. Baird felt it settle through him like a held breath finally released. He did not deepen it. He did not hurry her. He simply met her where she was, answering her softness with his own. He lifted one hand to cradle her jaw and returned the kiss with the same quiet reverence he had given her just moments before.
The moment of shared closeness gave way to something even more intimate, as they deepened the kiss, their hands trailing the curves of each other’s bodies, claiming each other once again in that quiet certainty that they were safe, cherished and no longer alone.
CHAPTER 34
Morning came quietly.
