Page 93 of Ghost of the Ton

“Aye, lass. I like having yer hands on my body.”

He was right. The air had grown hot. But now was not the time to give in to sensations that she didn’t—and might never—understand. Her duty was to take care of her patient.

And what a magnificent patient he is!

She let her hands glide along his skin, leaving a glistening trail of salve, feeling with her fingertips along each muscle, each tendon, as she searched for the telltale tautness.

As she reached his lower back, the tension in his muscles changed and she met a hard knot.

“Just relax,” she said. “Let me know if it hurts.”

He shook, and she froze.

Was he in pain?

Then he let out a chuckle.

“Is something amusing?” she said.

“Och, no, lass. It’s just, in my experience, it’s the man who tells the woman to relax and let him know if it hurts.”

The heat in her cheeks increased. Diverting her mind from the wickedly delicious sensations in her body, Mia continued to massage his lower back, running her hands along the taut muscles until they began to soften and relax.

Then he let out a low growl—like the deep purr of a satisfied lion.

“Are you well?” she said.

“Och, lass, what ye’re doing to me…! It’s fit to make even a stone statue spend with want.”

She stilled.

“N-no,” he growled, his body vibrating beneath her hands. “Dinnae stop.”

He curled his fingers over the back of the chair, and his knuckles whitened as Mia slid her fingers across his back. She blushed at the tiny noises of pleasure that escaped his lips as she continued to work on his muscles, increasing the pressure where they were the most knotted. At length, the tension eased and his murmurs of pleasure faded to a deep sigh. By the time Mia had wiped her hands of the salve, he had slumped over the chair, eyes closed, lips curved in a smile of satisfaction.

She placed her palm between his shoulder blades.

“Mmm…” he murmured, his chest expanding and contracting in a deep sigh. Then he sat up and yawned, stretching his arms out before he turned to face her.

“Did I ease the ache?” she said.

“Not really, lass,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “The ache in my bones has long gone, but I now suffer another ache.”

“Where?” she asked, reaching for the jar of salve.

He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart.

“Here,” he said, “though it may take more than yer salve to ease it. But there’s one thing ye can do for me.”

“Which is?”

Uncertainty darkened his eyes. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to ask.”

Emboldened by his humility, she curled her fingers around his and smiled.

“Did you not say that I was your wife—for the moment, at least? If I recall, I pledged to obey, and while I trust you’d grant me the power of refusal if I deem any request you make to be unreasonable, I would also hope that I can trust you not to make such a request.”

His eyelids fluttered, and Mia’s heart ached at the gentle plea in his eyes.