He ran his hands down her arms and grasped her waist. His fingers trailed lower, pausing when she winced as he touched the bruise on her hip. He lifted his hands to inspect her injury, leaving her feeling unaccountably vulnerable and embarrassed by his scrutiny.
“He deserved to die at my hand for what he’s done to you,” he growled, looking up from his examination to meet her gaze. “I wanted to kill him for this.”
“I know,” she said simply. “I felt the same way when I saw him attack you. I guess I was just lucky you’d made my fork from the wood of a rowan tree.”
He bent, one arm behind her knees and one at her back, and lifted her off her feet to gently immerse her in the hot water before gently kissing her lips.
“Why is that?” he asked as he rolled a bar of soap between his hands and then began to massage her back and shoulders.
Lord, but it felt wonderful.
“Elesyria says it’s likely the Magic of the wood that stopped him when a regular weapon might have had no effect. She told me the rowan wood is powerful enough that it alone might have been able to have sent me here.”
Dani waited to see if he might make the connection with the wood also being able to send her home.
He didn’t.
“I’ll carve you another soon to replace the one you left behind.”
He didn’t make mention of where she’d left the little fork, sticking out of Torquil’s neck.
She shivered as he leaned close, his hair brushing against her shoulders as his hands moved from her lower back upward, to her neck and over, down onto her chest.
Large and warm, they covered her breasts, massaging still until his thumb and forefinger closed around her nipple, rolling the skin gently.
She laid her head back against his shoulder and he pulled her toward him until her back fit snug up against the wooden wall of the tub. His hands molded her breasts once more before moving down to stroke across her stomach.
“Your shirt is getting wet,” she protested, but he covered her lips with his.
“Yer right,” he whispered as he broke the kiss. “I’ve no need for a tunic, have I?”
A moment later, his shirt and plaid were on the floor and he was lifting her to fit her in between his legs as he climbed into the tub behind her.
When she lay back this time, it was his wet, heated skin rather than the rough wood that cushioned her back.
His hands again covered her stomach, skimming their way down to her thighs. Over and under he rubbed until at last his fingers parted the folds between her legs and found the sensitive nub centered there.
In tiny circles, he rubbed round and round, slow at first and then speeding up as if his hand attempted to keep pace with her rate of breathing.
His erection, grown large and hard, pressed into her back and, when one of his fingers slipped inside her, she began to rock against him, stopping only when her muscles exploded in a tremor of ecstasy.
HER BODY TIGHTENEDaround his hand in breathless little spasms until at last her full weight lay back against him, her beautiful breasts heaving as she panted for air. Her eyes were closed, but a satisfied little smile curved her lips.
He’d done that. He’d put that look on her face. Not for the first time and not for the last. She was his and he would never give her up.
He kissed her neck, her ear, her cheek, before lifting her forward and entering her from behind. She was warm and welcoming and fully ready for him as he rocked his hips against her perfect round buttocks.
Once, twice, a third time, reveling in her moans until he realized he held her hip over the large discolored area.
“Have I hurt you?” he asked, withdrawing and pulling her close, making sure he didn’t touch the spot again.
“It doesn’t matter,” she answered breathlessly.
“It does to me.”
He stood, lifting her in his arms, and climbed from the tub, fastening his lips over hers again. She tangled her fingers in the hair at his neck, driving him wild, convincing him the bed was too far away.
Dropping to his knees on the fur next to the fire, he put her down, pulling her on top of him as he lay back. With her on top, he wouldn’t have to worry over putting pressure on her bruises. They would go at her pace.
