Her eyes went wide and she looked down at the tub closest to them. “We can share? Well, that sounds…delightful.” She looked up at him. “But I don’t think we’ll fit.”
“We can—we’ll make the room.” His fingers went down, pushing his jacket back off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor. The air, not as suffocating as it had been in the few coaching inns he’d stayed in on the journey north, was cooler, crisper here in Scotland.
Before he could thread his thumbs under the straps of her chemise, her hands went to unbutton his waistcoat and then onto his shirt. She pushed it up, slowly, dragging the fabric along his body, torturing him with every fold brushing against his skin. Her fingers trailed against his rib cage, his chest. She tugged the shirt over his head, then stepped back, her gaze on his chest, studying him.
Her eyes greedy, the heat in them was unmistakable and she took a step forward, setting her lips—still cool from her dunk in the bog—to his chest. The cold juxtaposed with the heat of her tongue as she tasted him. It nearly set him into action, ready to throw her on the bed—mud be damned—and slam into her.
But he held steady, his arms clenched to his sides as he suffered the torture of her lips on his chest.
Her fingers walked down, flicking free the buttons on the front flap of his trousers, then slid between the fabric and his skin, sliding over his backside as she pushed them down.
Hands of an angel by way of the devil. He had to bite back a blasphemy.
She went to one boot, pulling it free, then the other, not satisfied until he was free of every stitch of clothing and naked to the world.
Her stare hungry on every spot she touched, she stood slowly, her fingers running along his calves, his thighs, backward to run along his butt, then upward to his abdomen, his chest. Tracing the contours of his body like she was sculpting a masterpiece. Her touch exquisite against his skin, his only complaint aside from the muddy glove that was still on her left hand, was that she didn’t dare to touch his cock stretched large and high. But there would be plenty of time for that.
Her look lifted to his face. “Your body is stunning, Reiner.”
“You thought me fleshy?”
“No. I knew you were strong. I recall flashes of your bare chest when you came into my room after I discovered what happened to my arm. But my mind was in a different place then—not able to recognize what was in front of me.” She shook her head slightly. “I’ve seen plenty of strong men in Scotland with their shirts removed. I just didn’t realize you would rival any of them.” Her smile turned wicked. “And I’ve never dared to touch any of them.”
“I wouldn’t want to hear about it if you did.” A growl he couldn’t quite control at the thought of her fingers running along any man but him echoed in his words.
His thumbs slipped under the straps of her chemise and he pulled it down slowly, letting the wet fabric slide down her body until gravity took hold and she was naked before him. Naked except for the blasted glove covering her left arm.
He stepped closer, his breath mingling with hers as his fingertips went to the top hem of the long glove covering her arm. Her right hand snapped up between them, grabbing his wrist.
“The glove has to go as well.” His eyes met hers, challenging.
He wanted all of her. He wasn’t about to accept less. And all of her meant removing that bloody glove of hers. A glove he’d grown to hate. He’d seen why she wanted to hide her arm from the world. But that didn’t mean he wanted her arm hidden from him.
“It—it is just—I don’t like to look at my arm myself. So I don’t want to subject you—”
“Your arm, scarred or not, is part of you, Sloane. I didn’t marry only the unmarred parts of you.”
Her look dropped to his chest. “There is more of me marred than you think, Reiner.”
“You mean your stubbornness? How angry you can get at me? How you like to swing a knife in my general direction far too often? How you still look at me with eyes laced with suspicion?” He stepped in closer, only the thinnest slice of air between his naked skin and hers. “I see all of it, Sloane, and I married all of it. Your arm—the scars on it—are all part of what led you to me.”
Before she could protest, he slipped his forefinger beneath the edge of the kidskin and tugged the glove down her arm. She didn’t resist. And with every inch he pulled it down, baring her scars to the light, his cock grew harder. Harder because she was letting him in.
Finally.
Letting him past the deep and deadly moors she had surrounded her heart and head with.
“So I take all those parts.” The glove went down past her wrist and he dragged it free of her fingers. Gently, he took her left hand and lifted it to his lips, the puckered skin oddly soft under his touch. “I celebrate them, for your body is amazing.”
Her eyes lifted to him, narrowed with suspicion. “Amazing?”
“That this could happen—your arm could go into flames, burn you, and your body managed to rebuild itself out of nothing. Out of charred flesh.” He lifted her hand in front of him, studying the tight, white stretches of skin. “It is a wondrous thing. True, I don’t imagine it looks like it once did. But it is whole, sealed again from the world. Tougher because of the trauma. It is amazing.”
The suspicion in her look drifted away, leaving only her blue eyes sparkling, glossy with tears in the light streaming in through the window. Accepting what he said, even though she fought it with every breath. “You are exasperating.”
He grinned. “And I would also like to bed my new wife.” His eyes flicked to the tub. “Or bathe her.” He looked back to her. “Actually, both.”
She lifted herself on her toes, her hands going about his neck as she kissed him. Her lips parted instantly, and he tasted her, savoring the sweetness of her mouth. Hell, he was hungry for her.
But he needed to slow this.
The first time was too fast. There had been no savoring of his body in hers. Of her folds stretching around him, taking him in so leisurely it was torture to move slower and torture to move faster.
He wanted all of that. Time to revel in every inch of her body.
And it needed to start in the tub before they lost all of the warm water.
He broke the kiss and stepped into the tub, grabbing the washcloth and the bar of soap on the floor as he did. He settled into the tub, leaning back against the slope of the metal. It had more space than it appeared and he spread his legs, even though he had no intention of having Sloane sit between his legs. She was going to sit on top of him or he was likely to come on her backside.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward him and only releasing her when she had to grab onto the side of the tub for balance.
She stepped into the tub, her feet between his legs, and for a breath, she looked unsure of what to do. He would have dragged her down onto him immediately, but he caught sight of the smooth creamy skin on her backside and couldn’t resist running his palms over the rounded swells. He tortured himself until the need to have her tucked tight to his body overrode all his thoughts.
With a groan stuck in his chest, he pulled her downward into the water, setting her on his lap just in front of his shaft. Damn. Not enough space. Not for how he wanted her body spread out and writhing.
Soap first. With discipline he never knew he possessed, he scratched the soap against the washcloth and set to scrubbing her back. Her head moved back and forth, soft moans coming from her throat.
“Dunk your head so I can get your hair.”
She moved slightly forward and leaned back the best she could in the tight space, sinking her head below the surface of the water. Mud seeped from her hair, spreading into the tub. He set the soap quickly into the strands, scrubbing the dirt free the best he could, and then tugged her upright in front of him.
He scuffed the soap onto the washcloth and dragged it up and down her arms, then purely for his own pleasure, dragged the cloth, and his fingers across her breasts far m
ore times than necessary to clean her skin.
She leaned back against him as the washcloth took to every nook and cranny he could reach. He had taken to the task of cleaning her body with his control intact. But as his hand holding the washcloth slid between her legs, she wiggled on top of him and her right hand reached up to wrap around his neck. The movement unhinged him. Agony set into his member as her backside writhed against him.
The pain swelled so intense it forced him to jerk his hand from between her legs. “You’re clean.”
She craned her neck to look up at him. “I am?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Her head dropped, her look forward as she wiggled her backside against him. On purpose or inadvertently, the cruelty of it sent him near the edge of sanity. “I did think there would be more to bathing together.”
“More?” The word strangled from his throat, his control almost gone.
She shrugged her shoulders and then she stilled.
To hell with the blasted lack of space.
He lifted her and slid her onto his member. Slick, wet. The tightness of her encased him, ripping him to shreds with nothing more than the sleek warmth of her body.
He moved her upward and then dragged her down onto him—three strokes and his body was shaking beyond control. Too soon. He set her tight on his cock and slid his hand forward, finding the nubbin, his movements fast and quickly drawing her to a screaming edge.
But this one was his. All his. He lifted her off his cock once more, slamming her body down onto him. It was enough. Water sloshed out of the tub as she came, her body doubling over, the tightness ravaging his cock, drawing him into his own brutal release that shredded every muscle in his body, threatening to never let him free.
Shattering everything he knew of how his body could react to a woman’s. Shattering everything he knew of how he wanted to live life.
It left him with one thought alone.
She was everything.
And he had better become accustomed to that fact.
{ Chapter 15 }
Sloane shifted on his chest, a soft sigh coming from her throat. “The water is getting cold.”
“Then we better move to the next bath before it’s freezing.”
He lifted her, slipping her into the adjacent tub, then slid over himself. The water was tepid, not exactly cold, but no longer steaming.
Sloane reached back into the first tub and dug out the washcloth and soap, then snuggled herself onto his lap again, leaning back against him. She grabbed his arm and started scrubbing the mud that had caked through his shirt onto his arm.
Reiner leaned his head back on the rolled edge of the tub. He liked it, liked her hands on his body doing the most mundane actions. Her delicate fingertips pressing into his skin. Her bare lap on his thighs. Heaven help him, he was already getting hard again.
She cleared her throat. Suspicious.
His head lifted from the edge of the tub. “What?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, then her attention went back to his arm, her strokes against his skin faster. “You need to ken—Milly isn’t the only one. She had two tubs brought up, but she did that because it’s her job and the extra coin was too hard to pass up, even though she wouldn’t admit to it.”
He stared at the back of her blond hair, the streaks of red deepened into russet with the wetness. “She’s not the only one that what?”
“That despises you.” Her face went into a cringe as her eyes flickered back to him. “Everyone in these lands thinks you killed Jacob. That it was you that ordered those men to kill Torrie’s family. Though they blame Falsted just as much. He has been a scourge upon this land for far too many years.”
He sighed. “So everyone in these lands hates me?”
“Those that ken of you, aye.” She stopped scrubbing his arm and shifted on his lap to turn and look at his face. “Once I learned of it from Falsted and then told my brother, it was only a matter of time before word spread from Lachlan’s mouth. Torrie’s family had lived in the area for generations and were well-respected. It was why she was the cousin chosen to be my companion when we were three—their unfailing loyalty to my grandfather. It’s why she’s as a sister to me.”
“So everyone in this land hates me and I just married a daughter of their lands?”
The cringe around her eyes deepened and she nodded. “Aye. You did. So you can see why you won’t be exactly welcomed in the area. I just want you to be aware, in case Milly’s reaction is repeated by others.” She set her wet hand on his chest, her fingers curling into the divot centered along his breastbone. “It will just take explaining to people, that is all. The only trick is to get them to listen when they’ve already made up their minds about you.”
“A disadvantage, absolutely.” His bottom lip jutted up. “I assume your grandfather and brother are the sorts not to be swayed easily?”
“You guess correctly.” Her right cheek lifted in a half smile. “But you managed to change my mind about you and you yourself noted how stubborn I am.”
“You didn’t have a chance to hate me before you liked me. That was my only saving grace.”
Her lips pulled to the side. “Maybe we give it a few weeks before you meet them. Or months. Or years.”
“I’ll not be skulking about in shadows with you, Sloane. After we marry again at Wolfbridge, I have full intentions of traveling to Vinehill to properly meet with your grandfather and brother.”
She inhaled a long breath, then expelled it in a sigh. “Or we could delay it.”
His eyebrow cocked. “Or we could do it now while we are still near Vinehill.”
A bright smile—straining with fake force—locked onto her face. “After Wolfbridge, then. I think that’s best.”
She spun around and picked up his other arm, scrubbing with vigor.
Reiner shook his head.
His wife would certainly keep him hopping. Best he limber up.
~~~
“I have been churning it over in my mind. And I may be wrong.”
Sloane peeled her naked skin off of Reiner’s and shifted to sit up next to him on the bed. His fingers dropped from the tangle of her hair, his chest still quickly rising and lowering from the all-too-enjoyable early morning rout with their bodies.
Her hip jutting into his, she folded her legs under her and pinned him with an incredulous look. “You, wrong? Do I even want to ask?”
He grinned. “It rarely happens.” His hand dropped onto the top of her bare thigh, his countenance growing serious. “But I need to tell you this because I don’t want it to ever appear I tried to lie about it or hide it. And if I find out that I’m wrong about this particular topic, you will hate me for it.”
Her eyebrows slanted inward. “What is it you’re bandying about and refusing to say, Reiner?”
He drew a long sigh. “It is possible that my solicitor put conditions on buying the Swallowford land unbeknownst to me. I recall signing the document, but I don’t recall reading it other than a cursory glance.”
“You what?” Her words filled the room in a shriek.
“I didn’t want to tell you—I truly just imagined it as a possibility this morning after what you told me yesterday. But I need you to know in case it is true. If I had to guess, the contract Falsted showed you was a forgery of my name. But…”
“But what?”
“With my holdings, I sign a number of documents from my solicitor every day. The possibility is slight that he put something atrocious in there about clearing the land—or the document came that way from Falsted—but regardless, it was not by my request. You need to know I would never order something like that done, Sloane.”
She moved away from his heat, sliding to the edge of the bed. “And you’re just telling me this now?” The ice in her words sliced through the cool air.
He reached for her arm. “Sloane.”
She snapped it away, standing from the bed and pulling her chemise on, the chill in her voice
quickly spinning into hot rage. “You got what you wanted—me in your bed—then you turned me into your wife so I would have no power to ever ruin you. And now it’s okay to tell me this?”
He sat up. “I didn’t time this, Sloane, I swear it. I’ve been thinking on it—thinking on everything you told me.” He shrugged. “Yesterday I would never have even considered it a possibility that I signed papers I shouldn’t have—my solicitor is above reproach. But yesterday I also believed that once I caught up to you, I would throttle you and that would be it. I could wash you out of my bones.”
He shifted on the bed toward her. “But then I saw you and the exact opposite happened. I wanted you more than ever. Needed you more than ever. I never would have considered that a possibility. Never.”
“Don’t twist this to make your half-truths seem negligible.”
“I’m not twisting anything, Sloane.” He stood from the bed, reaching for his drying trousers hanging over a chair by the fireplace. “What I’m trying to explain is that something I thought was fact wasn’t. My reasons for coming after you were all lies I told myself. And this is the same thing—why was I so confident in my man?” He yanked his trousers into place. “There are no guarantees. My solicitor has a number of men working under him drafting documents and I cannot ensure that he reads everything as well, even though it is expected of him. So it’s possible something slipped past me that shouldn’t have, even though I never would have intended it.”
“But you signed the document, Reiner—you. You bound your name to it. You’re responsible. You did that—you did this.” She flung her scarred arm up in the air to him.
He visibly blanched.
Good.
She spun from him, stomping over to her valise. She didn’t want to see it—see the tormented look in brown eyes.
The damn man had made her believe he had nothing to do with the fire, and now this. A possibility.
A possibility she didn’t want to acknowledge—that she’d just married the man that had ruined her life—that had killed her brother.
The Wolf Duke Page 15