Chapter
Thirty-Seven
“Is it morning?” I mumble as I come to, heated skin against my back. A deeply sated chuckle in my ear. Plush lips down my neck. A watery splash.
“Not quite.”
I open my eyes to discover I’m in the copper tub in our bathing chamber, cradled between Lachlan’s tree-trunk thighs as he cleans me with a cotton cloth.
I am pleasantly sore everywhere and evidence is beginning to form: fingertip-shaped ovals on my flanks, a purplish welt on my inner thigh, bite marks on the sides of my breasts.
He shifts behind me, angling his head over my shoulder.
“Sorry about those,” he murmurs.
“No lies.”
His laugh rumbles through my chest. “Alright. I’m not sorry at all. I like the look of my marks on you.”
I nuzzle back against him. “I would wear them proudly.”
He continues to wash me in silence, caring for the body he used so aggressively. And just as I think I might drift off again, he whispers, “How are you feeling? Are you okay with everything that happened between us tonight?”
I smile sleepily, pressing the corner of my mouth into his shoulder. “You were right.”
“I often am.”
I bite his nipple ring.
“Ouch! Wicked beastie,” he chuckles. “Which specific thing was I right about this time?”
“When you put your …. in my … ” A blush climbs my cheeks—heaven only knows why after all the filthy things I’ve let him do to me. “I have never come so hard in my entire life.”
He places his muscular arms atop my own, then wraps both pairs around us, pulling me close. “Can I ask something of you?” he whispers against my temple.
Anything. Everything.
“What?”
“Will you … I would like it if …” He shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s not a fair request.”
I spin around in his arms, then sit cross-legged between his spread legs. “Lachlan. Ask it. I will not lie if it’s something I don’t want to do.”
“Will you keep it between us?” The question is so soft I barely hear him despite our proximity. “Not let another man have that part of you? Even after you marry?”
It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him, and it fractures my chest. He has no idea how much of me he already owns. No idea that the thought of letting another man touch me anywhere, let alone the part he’s just asked to claim, fills me with such dread I want to scream.
But I do not have the luxury of choosing him. My life, his freedom, and the fate of the kingdom depend on it.
I can, however, fulfill his request. It’s the easiest yes I’ve ever given. “I promise.”
He smiles, relieved, then ties his damp, auburn waves back from his face. “I won’t either. Take another woman there, I mean. I feel like a possessive asshole for even asking such a thing of you. Am I being selfish to deny you something that gives you so much pleasure?”
I snort, then lean against the tub, draping my ankles over his shins. “Based on prior experience, I believe this promise will be more disappointing for future you than future me.”
Something clouds his expression. “I don’t know about the other two, but I have heard that Desmond is a very skilled lover. I doubt you’ll have anything to complain about.”
I have little comfort to offer. Especially since we both know very well that Desmond’s first act as king will be to claim my body. So, I look away as I ask Lachlan, “How did you come to be in his service? What happened with Lord LaBeaumont?”
