Silently, she unfastened her bodice and skirts, and as she untied her chemise to let it drop to her feet, she noticed Sawny had pried one eye open into a slit to watch her. Only the sounds of their breathing disturbed the heady quiet.
Once she was bare and at the edge of the tub, Sawny shifted and took her hand as she climbed into the tub. With a shiver as the tepid water lapping over her, she squeezed between his thighs and leaned back against his chest. His arms immediately came over her arms, clasping her tight in a possessive grip, one that was much stronger than she expected. Again, it was like he feared letting her go.
“Ye lost weight.” His breath was warm on her ear.
“I’ll gain it back, surely,” she answered. “Now that ye have returned. And ye will fill out again too. We just need to keep ye fed.”
She felt him nod.
“I missed your full curves. I dreamed of them. That image of ye, I held it in my mind at all times.”
He sounded so forlorn that her heart trembled in her chest.
“Did ye now?” she asked and turned her head toward him.
He lifted his fingers from the water and held them over her chest until the droplets fell to her breast.
“Aye. ‘Twas all I had. I told myself if I thought of ye, then I could survive anything. And I would eventually escape to get back to ye. I just had to keep that image of ye in my mind.”
Adaira tried to swallow the lump in her throat and failed. Her entire body tensed when he saidescape.
“Ye were captive then?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if to speak it aloud was to relive the pain again.
He pressed his face into her hair.
“Aye.” His voice was muffled. “But as I said, it could have been far worse. I fell ill as a result of injury and the cautery that followed. Kelso must have –”
“Kelso?”
“Kelso MacIntosh. Under the auspices of the Campbells, ‘twould seem.”
“Och, my dear Sawny,” Adaira breathed out.
She brought his hand to her lips. His wrinkled fingertip lingered and traced her lips before dropping to her breasts. His chest under her back rose and fell steadily, slowing.
He was getting sleepy once more.
“I would love to tell ye all, but I am bone weary. More weary than any man should be. I know ‘tis only midday, but —”
She knew his question before he finished asking it.
“Of course. Let us get ye to bed.” Adaira rose in the bath, droplets raining off her and onto Sawny. She offered her hand and he accepted it, leaning on her to help him stand. “I dinna think I have a tunic –”
“Nay,” Sawny said as he stepped out of the bath, water coursing off him into puddles on the wooden floor and she followed. “I would have naught between us but the skin we were born in. I have need –”
He paused and dropped his gaze again, as if embarrassed. Her Sawny, embarrassed!
“I have need of ye, my beauty.”
Wordlessly, she gripped his hand and led him to her bed. The coverlet was rumpled. She flipped it back, climbed into the cool sheets, and patted the space next to her. Sawny folded his body onto the mattress and curled into her, clasping her against his body as if trying to touch all of her at once.
His breathing steadied immediately, his breath lightly blowing into her hair, and she tossed the blankets over the two of them.
She might not sleep, but at least she could hold him and provide solace, and if he had nightmares, she could be there to wake him and assure him she was no mere image from memory but real, alive, and right next to him.
Sawny’s eyes popped open with a start. For a moment, he did not know where he was.
His chest went hollow as panic surged inside him.
