“I’ll have a bath made ready, then.” Fanny moved the changing screen to cover the copper tub in the corner of the room and left to have water brought up.
Lydia had only just settled back into the bed when Brodie entered.
“I’ve spoken to Dr. Jacobs. He told me you need to rest today.”
“I’m sorry. I know you had plans to arrive in Scotland sooner.”
He waved a hand. “’Tis no matter.” He paced the room slowly, every now and then his gaze turning back to her on the bed. “Fanny says you wish to bathe.”
“Yes.” Lydia wondered what was bothering him.
“Good. A bath would be good for you.”
Fanny soon returned and supervised two lads bringing in buckets of steaming water. When they were done, Brodie gently but firmly pushed the maid out the door.
“Thank you, Fanny. I shall help her.”
“Oh, Brodie, really, you mustn’t,” Lydia sighed.
“Why not? I put you in this mess, lass. Have you forgotten?” He came over and helped her out of the bed. She could walk—at least she thought so—but her legs suddenly gave way, and she crumpled in his arms.
“Why can’t I walk?” she asked in a frightened whisper.
“It is a surge of blood. It can take a while to happen. You feel fear and you escape, and then when you are safe, the fear catches up to your body and you are weak for some time.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the day my father gave me those scars on my back, I ran away from home. I managed nearly two hours before I stopped running. When I realized I was safe, I collapsed. My legs couldn’t hold me up. Every part of me was shaking like an autumn leaf. One stiff breeze could have plucked me from the branch and carried me away.”
He spoke softly about such a violent pain from his past as he walked her to the tub behind the screen. Before she could protest, he removed the chemise from her body and set her down in the tub as though she were a child. He knelt down beside her; his eyes were fixed on her face as he helped her bathe. She scrubbed vigorously until her skin reddened. Brodie caught her hand that held the bathing cloth and stopped her.
“You can’t wash away bad memories,” he said.
“I know,” she murmured.
“Close your eyes.”
She hesitated but then did as he asked.
“Picture those men, see them on the ground. Now see them vanish. See the clearing vanish, but the land remains. Imagine rolling green hills and diamond-bright skies. Wee sheep bouncing over the grass, a frisky collie chasing them, birds singing in the woods . . .”
She saw all of it. It was like that moment this morning when she’d seen Brodie emerge from the mist into the brigands’ camp, just like he had said before when he’d spoken of the deer in the Highlands. He was a child of the mist, vanishing and appearing as he wished, only this time he’d emerged from the fog to save her. And that was truly all she’d ever wish to see again of this morning’s events. Brodie Kincade, coming to save her like an ancient warrior.
Oh heavens. Was she falling in love with him?
“Feel better, lass?” His hand cupped her chin, and she opened her eyes. She was lost. There was no other word for it. A knot rose in her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She merely implored him with her eyes to give her what she needed most in that moment. Him.
He leaned in over the tub, his fingers tickling her throat as he touched her. Her body hummed, and soon the hum turned to a passionate throb of need that she’d never experienced before in her life.
“Yes . . .”
“Yes?” He seemed confused.
“I feel better when you touch me. Please don’t stop.” She slowly rose from the bath, and he moved at the same time, reaching for a long cloth to wrap around her. She stepped from the copper tub and into his arms. He pulled her to him, almost roughly, but he seemed to catch himself, and his hands gentled.
“I’m sorry, lass, I dinna mean to be rough like this. ’Tis just that I want you so much.” His face turned a little red, and he pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.
“I want you too,” she admitted. “So much it hurts.”
He exhaled a shaky breath. “I shouldna take you, lass. I’ve done nothing but put you in danger and hold you against your will. You canna want me or this . . . not now.”
“Shouldn’t I decide that?” she challenged in a whisper. “You haven’t been a gentleman, and now is certainly not the time to start. You promised me wicked things,” she reminded him. His gray-blue eyes darkened with passion, and she was lost all over again to this devastating man.
“I did promise that.” His lips curved in the slow smile that undid her.
“Then you had best deliver it, Scot,” she teased. “I’m here . . . I’m willing and begging you.”
“Never tempt a Scot, lass,” he warned. His eyes glowed like diamonds submerged in dark pools.
“Oh?” She slowly pulled the cloth away from her body, and he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down upon it with surprising tenderness, and she did her best to resist the urge to cover her body. She had never been fully naked with a man before. She’d never been anything with a man before, and this was exciting and frightening.
Brodie swept his gaze over her body, bold and unapologetic. “You are more bonnie than I could’ve dreamed of, lass.” He stared at her for a long moment, and her heart raced as he began to undress. She took pleasure as he bared his body to her, for her. His strong arms flexed as he stripped down to nothing but his bare skin. Then he came toward her again.
Lydia swallowed nervously. How could he seem bigger when he was naked? Surely it couldn’t be possible, yet it was. He crawled onto the bed toward her and caged her beneath him. She melted in pleasure as he kissed her, long, slow, and deliciously open-mouthed. She adored the way he kissed, like he was hoping to get slapped for it. It was wicked, just as he was, and she couldn’t get enough.
She raised one of her hands to his chest, wanting desperately to touch him. He didn’t stop her. His skin was warm, and his muscles moved beneath her palms as he shifted his weight and settled on top of her. She parted her legs to allow him to settle into the cradle of her thighs. It was the oddest sensation to both want him inside her and to be afraid of it, but Brodie seemed to be in no hurry. He continued to kiss her leisurely, nibbling on her lips until she almost giggled. Somehow in that moment as they kissed and before he claimed her fully, a delicate invisible thread was spun between them by some ancient cosmic weaver.
“Please, Brodie. I need more,” Lydia said with a sweet, aching desperation.
“Yes, my bonnie lass.” He gently nipped her neck, and she moaned as he moved his hand down between their bodies. She tensed a little as he lifted his hips and gripped his shaft.
“Oh, lass, I hate to hurt you,” he warned, and she bit her lip the second he breached her, hard and fast.
The sharp pinch would have brought tears to her eyes, but he was kissing her again, distracting her from everything but pleasure. His hard body eased deeper into hers, and she curled her arms around his neck, holding on to him as he began to rock against her in a slow, sweet rhythm. Soon, the slide of their bodies and the wet, hot connection between them became the single most exquisite thing she’d ever experienced. She felt pried open to this man, body and soul, and he to her. Nothing could hide between them as they joined each other into one beating heart, one fused soul.