Had the lads’ laughter made him realize how his demand for her presence looked, and made him regret making her stay? Or did he suddenly feel shy?
“Ye may turn yer back, if ye wish,” he offered. “I willna fall down between the bed and the tub.”
Mary shook her head. “I’ve seen it all, is that no’ what ye said? I’m here to keep ye from falling. I’d rather stay close in case ye get dizzy when ye stand.”
Cameron nodded and got to his feet. Spreading his legs, his gaze stayed on the hearth as he took a few deep breaths. Then he nodded. “I’ll no’ fall.”
Mary heard him, but didn’t believe a word. He’d gone a bit pale and shook ever so slightly when he stood. Then he steadied and his color returned. Likely he thought she hadn’t noticed his lapse. Instead of backing away, she moved to him and took his arm. “Come on, let’s get ye in. Lean on me.” She wrapped an arm around his middle. Hecooperated, walking with her to the tub. She knew she shouldn’t, but she liked the weight of Cameron’s arm draped over her shoulders, and the feel of his solid torso under her hand, muscles bunching and flexing as he moved.
He stepped into the tub without comment. Before he sat down, she tugged at his shirt. He took the hint and stripped it over his head, leaving him bare…and breathtaking.
Mary had seen him many times, lying in bed while the fever ravaged him, head tossing with delirium while she ran cool cloths over his body. Cameron ill and mostly unaware of her regard was one thing. Standing before her, close enough to touch, a wicked gleam suddenly in his eyes and a growing erection making known the direction of his thoughts, was quite another. His erection rose heavy and thick, his length much more intimidating than when he’d been ill and flaccid. “Sit,” she commanded, fighting to keep her gaze on his face—and losing. Even with the weight he’d lost, he still had an impressive build. His arms and shoulders were generously muscled from training and fighting, his torso trim and solid, with rock-hard bulges and hollows of a well-honed fighting man. She covered her interest by inspecting his scar.
Cameron moved his arm away from his side and allowed her to look at it.
His wound had healed to a jagged pink line along his ribs. As she nodded, her gaze dropped. A dusting of dark hair covered his chest and arrowed down his belly to widen at the juncture of his thighs. She pulled her gaze from there, but not before he noticed and straightened, making what caught her attention even more prominent,thick and long. If she dared, she could wrap her hands around him. She knew he wanted her to, but doing so would change everything between them. Even if she did not expect the healer to arrive at any moment, she was not prepared to take such an irreversible step. Defiant, she continued her perusal. Below his rising manhood, heavily muscled thighs and strong calves completed the picture she would carry in her mind—forever.
“Like what ye see?” His voice rumbled low and gravelly with need.
Her body responded, her core clenching and turning molten, her heart beating faster. She bunched the fabric of her skirt in her fists, determined to fight the desire burning in her blood. “I’ll like it more when it’s clean and less whiff than it is at the moment. Now sit.” Cameron grinned, and she suspected he knew full well what turn her thoughts had taken. He was a beautiful man. Powerful even now. He would be more powerful, more impressive, and harder to resist when he finally regained his health. “I’ll no’ tell ye again, Cameron Sutherland. The lasses brought up cold water, too. I’ll toss a bucket full of that over yer head if ye dinnasit down.”
Finally, Cameron complied. Despite the bravado he’d shown so far, his movement as he settled into the tub seemed careful, and a soft grunt caught in his throat. But he sighed as the warm water rose about him, and the wicked gleam returned to his eyes as he leaned back and rested his arms on the sides of the tub.
Determined to ignore whatever sizzled between them, Mary grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the warm water, then dragged it over his neck and shoulders. “Lean forward so I can wash yer back.”
Cameron complied and she picked up a dab of soap in the cloth, then wiped it across the expanse of muscle and down his spine. It left a trail of suds as rivulets of warm water ran down his skin. She continued with his shoulders, then moved around to face him and handed him the cloth. “Wash yer face, and anything else ye can reach,” she ordered, fighting a grin as his lips puckered in disappointment. She nodded at his side. “Be careful around yer scar.”
“It feels better when ye do it.”
“I’ll wash yer hair. That will feel best of all.”
He grinned and glanced down.
Mary followed the direction of his gaze. His erection still stood proudly below the surface, between his bent knees. “Or I could just get that bucket of cold water and pour it over ye right now.”
Cameron dunked the cloth and applied it to his face, scrubbing harder than she would have. She watched, fascinated, as he dragged the rag down his throat and across his chest, then down his belly. When his hand went below the waterline, she turned her back and picked up the dish of soap, determined not to think about what his hand was doing. About how she wanted to touch him there. How she wanted everything that went with such intimacy—with him.
Where was the healer? If she stayed away, still thinking of Cameron as Mary’s horned god, Mary would wring her neck.
After a moment, Mary heard the sound of water splashing as Cameron wrung out the cloth. She sighed and turned back to him. “Now I’ll wash yer hair,” she warned and took the cloth from his unresisting hand. Shedunked it again and wrung it out over his head, several times, wetting his hair, turning all its shades of brown darker, black and slick. Then she took a palm full of soap and massaged it into his scalp.
His eyes drifted shut and he groaned as he leaned against the back of the tub. “Ye were right,” he murmured, low and deep. “That does feel good.”
His voice made her bones vibrate. “Then stay still and enjoy it,” she replied, tunneling her fingers into his hair. A glance down his body revealed his erection had not subsided. It looked even larger and more insistent than before. More enticing. She wanted to slide her hands down his chest and across the rippled expanse of his abdomen to reach it. Instead, Mary looked away and concentrated on massaging Cameron’s neck and ears, then ran her fingers across his forehead and back up into his hair. After a few minutes, he seemed nearly asleep, so she placed her hands on his shoulders and urged him forward. “Let me rinse yer head.”
The bucket she’d threatened him with actually held more hot water, warm now that it had been sitting for a while. She poured a thin stream over his crown and watched the soap trail down his back and over his shoulders to his chest, a few small bubbles forming a barrier on the surface between her gaze and what rose beneath the water. When she’d rinsed his hair to her satisfaction, she used a towel to dry it. “’Tis time to stand and dry yerself,” she told him. “Then ye can go back to bed if ye wish.”
He rose from the tub like a god from the sea, water sluicing down his back and drawing her gaze lower than she should allow it to go. The tightly bunched muscles ofhis arse and the backs of his thighs flexed while she watched, fascinated.
“With ye?” he murmured and turned to face her, his erection again full and proud, straining toward her.
“Nay, Cameron.” She handed him a towel. “Wrap that around yerself—if ye can.”
He grinned and instead used it to dry his face and neck, leaving his body taut and exposed, tempting her.
She shook her head as he moved the towel aside to peer at her. “Step out of the tub, please. Put a hand on my shoulder if ye must. I dinna want ye to fall.”
He lowered the towel and shifted his gaze between her and the bed. “I think ye’ll have to help me,” he teased and lifted one strong leg over the tub’s edge to the floor, then the other. There he stood, feet spread, cock at full attention and sac dangling between his legs while the sight of him held her in thrall.
