His hands were like silk on her flesh. The combination of the soothing water and his heated caresses were a balm to her tattered senses.
He was thorough in his wash. No part of her went untouched. By the time he was done, she was limp, her vision hazy, and she was so lethargic that she couldn’t have risen from the tub if she’d wanted to.
Ewan picked her up and held her over the tub while the water rushed from her body. He set her by the fire and promptly wrapped a large blanket around her, tucking the ends between her br**sts.
“As soon as your hair is dry, I’ll tuck you back into bed,” he said. “I don’t want you to get cold.”
Just when she couldn’t imagine being more shocked by his gentle regard, he began to dry her hair with one of the drying cloths. His hands worked through the strands and when he’d blotted the excess moisture from the heavy mass, he began to work a comb through the knots.
They sain front of the fire, her nestled between his thighs, facing the blaze. He was exceedingly patient, pausing when he reached a particularly difficult snarl.
The warmth from the hearth wrapped around them until her skin glowed pink. Heat seeped into her bones and she found herself nodding off as he combed her hair.
When he was done, he set the comb aside and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He pressed his cheek against the side of her head and rocked slightly as she stared into the glowing embers.
“You scared me, lass.”
She sighed and melted deeper into his embrace. “I scared myself, Laird. ’Tis the truth I had no liking of the thought of leaving you and Crispen.”
“Crispen slept in your bed each night you were ill. He on one side, I on the other. He was just as determined as I that you not die.”
She smiled. “ ’Tis nice to have family.”
“Aye, lass, it is. I think you and Crispen and I make a fine family.”
“Don’t forget Caelen and Alaric,” she said with a frown. “And Gannon, Cormac, and Diormid, of course. They do annoy me, but they have good intentions and they are ever so patient. Oh! And Maddie and Bertha and Christina.”
Ewan chuckled against her ear. “Our clan, lass. Our clan is our family.”
Oh, she liked the idea of that. Family. She gave a contented sigh and leaned her head back on his shoulder.
“Ewan?”
“Aye, lass.”
“Thank you for not letting me die. ’Tis the truth I was close to giving up, but your bellowing made it quite impossible to give in. You do like to bellow. It probably made you happy to have an excuse to carry on so.”
He squeezed her to him and she felt the tremble of his body that signaled silent laughter.
“When you are well, we’re going to have a long talk.”
She tried to sit up but he held her tight. “Talk about what, Laird?”
“Words, lass. Words I intend that you’ll offer me.”
Chapter 29
He’d given her an entire fortnight in which he bullied her into resting, showered her with affection—privately, of course—and the loving … Ah, the lass had quickly recovered and Ewan had spent each night driving her, and himself, mad with pleasure.
Yet she’d never spoken of loving him. She was free with her comliments, he had to give her that much. She told him in the sweetest tones that he was handsome, bold, arrogant … though he wasn’t certain that she meant all of these as compliments.
She was certainly impressed with his skills at loving, and she’d developed some of her own that he still hadn’t fully recovered from.
She had to love him. He couldn’t countenance that she felt only passing affection for him. She sure as hell wasn’t obedient, nor was she particularly respectful. But he saw the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. He saw how she fell apart in his arms night after night in the darkness of their chamber.
Aye, she loved him. There was no other explanation. He just had to get her to see it.
The poisoning had made Mairin more wary, and as much as Ewan liked that she took his requests seriously, he did miss their fiery exchanges—usually spawned when she disregarded an order. He didn’t like that Mairin’s spontaneous charm had been curtailed by her near death.
Only Ewan, his brothers, and Gannon, Cormac, and Diormid knew the truth. That Mairin hadn’t been the intended victim. There were many reasons for Ewan to keep the information to himself.
One, his clan had become fiercely protective of Mairin since the incident. They all looked after her with a keen eye, and she was never alone. That suited Ewan’s purposes perfectly, because whether someone was trying to kill Mairin or not, she still faced the threat that was Duncan Cameron.
Two, he had no desire for Mairin to worry, and if she found out that Ewan was the intended victim, not once but twice, there was no telling what the lass might do. Ewan had discovered in a short time that she was fierce in her protection of those she considered hers.
And the lass did consider Ewan hers, much to Ewan’s smug satisfaction. She may not have given him the words he wanted to hear, but there was no denying her possessiveness when it came to him. He remembered well the look she’d given him when Rionna McDonald had been introduced.
He looked forward to the day when they would be free of threats. The shadow hanging over the keep had affected not just Mairin, but everyone. Mairin … well, Ewan hadn’t had a single report of her causing a ruckus since she’d gotten up from her sickbed.
He should have known that wouldn’t last …
“Laird, you must come quickly!” Owain said as he ran up to Ewan.