Page 108 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"I said it's just a scratch. Really." He caught her hands. "But we should probably get cleaned up before anyone sees us like this."

"We look ridiculous."

"Aye. We dae." He pulled her closer, not caring about the paint.

They made their way back to their bedchamber. David could hear servants muttering about the mess, but he didn't care.

For the first time in weeks, he felt—light. Like he could breathe properly again.

Inside their chamber, Elinor immediately started trying to wipe paint off her arms. "This is going to take forever to get out."

"We need a bath." David moved to the washstand, wetting a cloth. "Here. Let me help."

He began wiping paint from her face, his touch gentle. Elinor closed her eyes, leaning into his hand.

"That feels nice," she murmured.

"Aye." His voice had gone rough. "Ye've got paint in yer hair too."

"As do you."

They helped each other clean up, the task somehow becoming more intimate than it should have been. David's hands lingering on her neck. Elinor's fingers trailing across his jaw.

"We're making a mess," she whispered as water dripped on the floor.

"Dinnae care." He pulled her closer, ignoring the protest from his wounded side. "Ye're beautiful. Even covered in paint."

"You sketched me." Her hands moved to his shirt, starting to unlace it. "I saw it. Before Meggie added her contribution."

"Aye. Couldnae help meself." He caught her hands. "Elinor, I should tell ye—the healer said I need tae take it easy fer a few days. The wound⁠—"

"I'll be gentle." Her smile was wicked. "I promise."

And she was. Careful of his wound. Gentle with her touches. But no less passionate for it.

"I could get used to this," Elinor murmured against his chest.

"Aye. Me too."

Outside, the sun was setting. But inside their chamber, everything was warm and safe and right.

For the time being.