Stay With Me

by Ruby Duvall

  Iain groaned as he sank down. Emma had sat in this same tub, as naked as he was now. The soap now in his hand had slid against parts of her that he could only imagine touching. Her breasts, her hips, the insides of her thighs.

  The back of his head met the rim of the tub and he spread his knees. His hand slid past his navel, his fingers wrapping around the arousal that Emma had nearly seen. What he wouldn’t give to bathe her, to enjoy her sighs and moans as he pleasured her in a tub of steaming water, to know for himself how soft she was.

  The bar of soap traveled up and down his arms, across his chest and stomach, down his sides. The surface of the water became frothy and his slick hands spread the sweet-smelling bubbles over every inch of his skin.

  Emma’s skin would be slick as well, her delicate body coated with a layer of suds. He hissed, his pelvis rocking as he imagined her astride his lap, her thighs squeezing his sides while his hands lifted and settled her. Her hands would grip the tub’s edge to either side of his head and her breasts would press against his face with every rise of her body, sliding down again with her every shuddering exhalation. He groaned, his fist moving faster.

  His hips would buck just as his hands pulled her down, ensuring that he sank into her as deeply as possible. She would moan when he sucked her nipple between his lips and still she would beg for more but he would not give more—not yet. He would slow the pace, would tease her. She would have the advantage though and take control. The water would spill over the sides and Emma’s moans would grow louder.

  He surged to his knees, gripping the tub’s edge with one hand and thrusting himself into the other. Emma would be suspended above the tub, her feet braced on the rim and her arms wrapped around his shoulders as water sluiced off her body. He would pound himself against her until the tight muscles gripping him began to flutter.

  Iain held his breath. His grip on the tub’s rim tightened. The tension broke, blooming into pleasure. A harsh sound left his throat as the first wave of relief crashed against him. His head felt hot, his body heavy and his muscles weak. His hips bucked forward and another wave washed over him.

  He opened his eyes, swallowing hard. Heart still pounding, he nearly laughed at himself. No water-drenched fairy shared his tub. No mysterious nymph was there to smile at him with satisfaction. He was alone with only a lingering fantasy, and the water was starting to get cold.

  —

  Emma started down the path in the direction of the river, a path she had taken a couple of dozen times already while lugging all those buckets of water. Her shoulders ached terribly. She had rather hoped that Iain would challenge her to take one of her aspirins to prove they were safe—it would have been a good excuse so that she didn’t feel she was using them up too quickly—but he didn’t.

  Her cheeks still burned from when Iain said that he didn’t mind stripping in front of her. She hadn’t been able to tell if he had been making fun of her or making a pass at her, though considering her track record with him so far, she leaned toward the former.

  Halfway to the river, a familiar black and white dog bounded toward her from the direction of the barn. Iain had said the dog’s name was Puck. She had wanted to ask why but Iain seemed to be the kind of guy who didn’t like to talk much. Slowing down, she waited for the dog to come closer and then squatted down.

  The dog’s tail wagged rapidly. His furry face was smiling and his playful movements looked rather like a boxer bobbing and weaving. She slowly extended her arm and held her hand out. The dog approached hesitantly, his muzzle out as he aimed to put it in contact with her outstretched fingers.

  Emma had always loved dogs. Her family had owned a couple of mutts when she was younger but they had both died of old age by the time she had started vet school. She had been looking forward to getting a new puppy when she graduated.

  When Puck finally pressed his nose to her hand, she let him sniff her first and then began to stroke his muzzle. His fur was soft and some tension left her aching shoulders. The dog then came closer, inviting her to pet his head. The corners of her mouth turned up a little. After petting him for a moment, she stood and continued on her way to the river. Puck followed, his tail still wagging as he escorted her.

  Stopping at the river, she took a seat in the tall grass and pulled her purse into her lap. She still had a few more minutes to wait, so she took out her foldable hairbrush, popped it out to its full length and began pulling it through her hair, hoping to hasten the drying time. Puck nonchalantly sat down next to her, his eyes glancing around as though guarding her—or at least, she liked to think he was. It was more likely that he was looking for something to chase.

  With only half an hour until sunset, the air had cooled considerably and she shivered with every strong breeze. Once she became bored with brushing her hair, she dug through her purse again and located her wallet. Though mostly full of useless things like paper money, coins and credit cards, it also contained the most precious thing she had left—family photos.

  Her father with his graying brown hair and nerdy glasses smiled at her from where he stood behind his seated wife. His hands were on her shoulders and her mother had placed her left hand over his, their wedding rings sitting next to each other. Her mother, with her strawberry blonde hair and perfect smile, gazed at the camera, her eyes shining with happiness.

  The other photo was just as old as the one of her parents, taken less than a month before Jack died. Her older brother had been the quintessential football jock—tall, blond and good-looking. He was doing the typical high school pose reminiscent of the Thinking Man, his wide grin and handsome face giving the camera an overly charismatic pose that also doubled as slightly comedic. It had always made her laugh.

  Now it made her cry. She had expected to be comforted by pictures of her family but instead they brought forth the one emotion she had been fighting all day. Once the tears started, they didn’t stop, flowing freely down her cheeks and dropping onto her purse with little plop-plop noises. She began humming her mother’s favorite lullaby, the one her mother always sang to her when she was upset. The melody of the Beatles’ Blackbird still shook loose the tightly contained memory of her mother’s blue nightgown and the gentle strokes of her mother’s hand through her hair. Emma’s voice warbled and hiccupped, refusing to reach the higher notes. Puck stood up to inspect her, as though looking for an injury.

  “Are ye hurt?”

  Emma gasped, her next sob catching in her throat. Swallowing it, she twisted around. Kenneth stood ten feet behind her. Beth, who anxiously bit her fingertips, tightly held his hand. Their arrival pulled her out of her self-pity, replacing it with embarrassment so acute that she wished a flash flood would come and wash her away. Emma hastily put her wallet back into her bag.

  “No, I…I’m not. Sorry, I’m just…um—” she said haltingly.

  “I have supper with me,” the redhead interrupted. She wiped at her eyes as she stood up to face him and noticed the field-dressed rabbit he held by its hind legs. “To celebrate our new friend, we’re having one of our rabbits. Let’s get this on the fire then?” Nodding and grateful that he hadn’t made a big deal out of her tears, she wiped at her eyes again and walked with them to Iain’s house.

  “Did ye hear of our feud with the MacGregors?” Though his tone wasn’t accusatory, Emma wondered if he was testing her. The name was familiar to her, of course but the only Scottish history she knew was inaccurate. Thank you, Hollywood.

  “MacGregor as in…Rob Roy?”

  Kenneth looked at her with confusion. “Who?” Wincing in apology and shaking her head, she said she hadn’t heard and he continued. “When Robert the Bruce became king in my father’s time, he honored those loyal to his cause with the royal favor and awarded them land from those who had opposed him. Sir Neill Campbell, for his loyalty, received lands from the MacDougalls and the Strathbogies.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair, forcing someone to leave their home.” Kenneth shot her a frown and she was certain t
hat he would yell at her for not siding with him.

  “I suppose but the disloyal MacDougalls were the ones who killed Sir Neill’s father, sheriff of Loch Awe, with an arrow in the back over a petty fratch.” Emma meekly looked down at her feet, which kicked her skirt with every step. At least he hadn’t yelled, she thought.

  “A few years before I was born, Sir Neill’s son, Young Colin, was given the barony of Loch Awe and the squatting MacGregors were pushed into Glenstrae. They’ve been lifting kine and poaching for as long as I’ve been alive. The laird is thinking to promise them a portion of the tenant fee as a sop.”

  “A sop?”

  Kenneth made vague gestures with his hands as he tried to explain. “The laird promises them some of what they try to steal and they leave us alone.” Ah, a bribe, or would that be extortion?

  “The MacGregors don’t kill anyone, do they?” she asked warily.

  “They do if they have to but they’re content with carrying away cattle. We hadna seen them for over a year and thought that the plague had…” At his silence, Emma looked over at Kenneth but his pause was brief. “Only last night did the crofters in the next glen find some heads missing.”

  Maybe that was why Iain was in such a bad mood. “What are you going to do?”

  “Malcolm and Thomas will stay in the barn and all four of us will take turns keeping watch. The MacGregors would rather steal the few cattle we keep but our sheep are ready to shear and wool catches a high price lately.”

  “Dada, look!” Beth said. She pointed at a toad hopping along the path and began to chase it, giggling as the toad only hopped faster to escape her. Emma shivered again as the breeze cut through her dress and she rubbed her arms to stay warm.

  Kenneth turned to go after his daughter but paused. “Go ahead. I’ll be there soon enough,” he said.

  Nodding gratefully, she took the rabbit from him and walked toward the house and the warmth of its fire. Lunch hadn’t been all that long ago, so she wasn’t hungry but it seemed like it would take awhile before dinner would be ready. Without anyone to cook, Kenneth and Iain had to start their meals after finishing their other work, so she hoped to earn some points with Iain by taking that chore off his hands.

  From behind her, she heard Beth squeal and turned to see that Kenneth had picked her up and was swinging her around. Briefly wondering why Iain had no children despite being near Kenneth’s age, she recalled that the redhead had lamented Iain’s bachelorhood when they were eating that salty soup. She wasn’t surprised that Iain had remained single though. He wasn’t a very charming guy.

  Arriving at the house, she stepped into the doorway and then promptly froze in place. Her mouth dropped open and she nearly dropped the rabbit as well.

  Oh my…

  Chapter Five

  His naked back to the door, Iain stood on the rocks she had placed around the tub and was in the process of pulling his fresh tunic over his head. It was very loose, so he was having trouble finding the sleeves. His skin was still wet from his bath and the fire lit him perfectly. He glistened as though he had just left the arms of his exhausted lover.

  Not a single fold of fat was to be seen on his body. He was well sculpted, his muscles surging under a layer of smooth, healthy skin. The line of his spine jutted out from between a pair of powerful shoulders and ran down his back. His legs were powerfully built and well proportioned to his long, trim torso. His backside was high and tight and despite her current opinion of him, the image of her fingers digging into those muscular buttocks while he thrust between her thighs was instantly at the forefront of her mind.

  When he finally pulled down his tunic and covered himself, she couldn’t help the small sound of embarrassment she made as she darted back outside to hide herself. She leaned against the outside wall and then squatted down, still clutching the skinned rabbit.

  She wasn’t cold anymore. Indeed, her heart pounded loudly in her ears and her face was flaming. It took her several breaths to push the image of Iain’s naked back and hindquarters from her mind. He was a very virile specimen, she’d grant him that but if she wanted to look him in the face without lighting up like Times Square, she had to block that particular mental picture.

  “Emma, what are ye doing?” Kenneth asked as he walked up to the house, his daughter sitting on his hip.

  “Are ye playing a game?” Beth wiggled against her father as though she wanted to be put down. Feeling like an idiot, Emma stood up and turned toward the door just as Iain stepped outside. He had hastily donned his belt and his eyes went straight to her.

  Despite her best efforts, the memory of his nudity flashed unbidden through her mind’s eye and she was grateful that the sun was nearly spent or else they’d have easily seen the rush of blood to her cheeks.

  After staring at him for an awkward couple of seconds, Emma held out the rabbit to him and blurted, “Dinner.” She then pushed past him into the house and picked up one of the buckets.

  “Kenneth, take this,” Iain grumbled, passing the rabbit back to him.

  Emma filled the bucket with some of Iain’s bathwater and lifted it up, though it killed her shoulders to do so. She couldn’t help the slight shake in her arms.

  Iain was suddenly behind her, reaching around her body to take the bucket. “Let me do it.” Her heart jumped to her throat. He radiated heat. His scent engulfed her and his muscular arms looked massive next to her skinny, weak limbs. His rough fingers brushed the back of her hands and then wrapped around the handle.

  “I-I’m fine,” she protested but Iain didn’t listen and easily lifted the bucket. She turned as he backed away from the tub. “I promised I would do that.” She reached to take the bucket.

  “Ye’ll only end up spilling it everywhere.” He carried the bucket outside without further conversation. Emma gave up and turned to Kenneth. The redhead still held Beth in one arm and the rabbit in his other hand. He looked a little perplexed.

  “So what do I do first?” she asked, nodding toward the rabbit.

  He half-smiled. “Ye’ve already begun.”

  —

  Kenneth sat back from the table, happily sighing and licking his fingers with relish. It was certainly juicier than the meat they usually cooked but Iain ate his food with more restraint. A couple of feet down the bench from him sat Emma, who placed a sliver of rabbit meat between her lips and regarded his brother-in-law with high eyebrows and amused eyes. She daintily flicked out her tongue to catch a drop of juice on her finger and he clenched his jaw, looking down at his plate.

  “Emma, ye do indeed have the touch for cooking,” Kenneth complimented, rubbing his stomach for emphasis. Iain couldn’t help looking at Emma again, who received the flattery with a small, tight-lipped smile.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Basting isn’t that difficult,” she deferred.

  Kenneth chuckled. “Then it seems Iain and I dinna ken even the basics.” Seeing his friend smiling at the fairy, Iain wanted to throw the remains of the rabbit carcass at the man’s face.

  Iain turned toward Emma. “Where did ye learn to cook?” Her eyes flew to him and she was silent for a few seconds. He could tell she was scrambling for an answer by the set of her eyebrows, which pinched in the center and created a crease above her nose. The smallest of frowns bracketed her mouth and he waited for something to slip.

  “I learned from my mother. We did it a little differently though.”

  “What ingredients do ye use?” he asked. She began to pick at her nails. With a quick glance at Kenneth, he saw his brother-in-law quietly watching their exchange.

  “Well, you know…meat and…vegetables and fruits,” she mumbled, looking down at her fidgeting hands.

  “Ye seem nervous,” he pointed out.

  “I’m not nervous,” she answered, a little too quickly. He barely saw the brief grimace on her face, for she was still looking down at her fingers.

  “What kind of fruits?” The one that immediately came to his mind was raspberries, grown in the
east. That had been the color of her lips when he had first seen her.

  “Um…well, tomatoes, apples, lemons—”

  Kenneth interrupted. “What are tuh-may-toes?”

  “I’ve nae heard of leh-muns either,” Iain said. “Apples grow well in England, though.” He put special emphasis on the name of their southern “neighbor”.

  “You’ve never heard of tomatoes or lemons?” she asked, looking between the two of them with just a hint of panic in her eyes. Iain crossed his arms, wondering if perhaps she was English after all, someone rich enough to eat rare fruits. “But tomatoes come from—” She suddenly stopped.

  “Come from?” he pressed. She bit her lip for a second and once again averted her eyes. He barely heard her mumble, “No one has been there yet.”

  “Been where?” Frustration made his eye twitch, though at least his headache from earlier had indeed disappeared. He wondered if it would return twice as strong as some sort of fairy trick.

  “Dada, what’s an apple?” Beth asked.

  “Been where?” Iain repeated as Kenneth more quietly answered his daughter’s question.

  “I…can’t tell you that,” she said softly.

  “Why not?”

  A long pause preceded her answer. “I need to let my past die.”

  He set his elbows on the table, leaning toward her. “Will yer past come looking for ye?” She scooted farther away from him.

  “I’m dead to them.” Everyone at the table was silent for a long moment. Dead to them? What did that mean?

  Kenneth heaved a sigh and stood up, helping Beth off the bench when she obediently moved to follow.

  “As eventful and strange a day as it has been, it is time for my little lamb to sleep,” the redhead announced. Iain leaned back, knowing that Kenneth was granting Emma a reprieve, however brief. Reluctantly, he ceased his questions and saw Kenneth and Beth to the door. Kenneth promised to look in on the farmhands staying the night in the barn and then took his daughter’s hand to walk her home.