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“Why dinna ye go in, lass?” Aulay said gently.

This man…she marveled at his beautiful, chiseled features. The square jaw under his short beard and the dark eyes that burned holes in her skin.

“Um…” she said. “Turn away.”

“Nae.”

She raised her brows. “Turn away, Aulay.”

“Nae, lass. I will watch ye because I want to see ye whole. Ye will become mine tonight and there wilna be any more secrets, nae unspoken thoughts, and nae hiding. Every inch. Every crease. Every curve.”

Heat scalded her cheeks. His words ignited her desire. Her muscles tightened and clenched, and she found that she didn’t know what to say. That she actually wanted to undress just like he said.

Without another word, she untied the laces of her dress and let it fall onto the steps of the bath. She pushed her shoes off her feet. His chest rose and fell deeper and quicker as he slowly looked her over in her chemise. She took the edges of the chemise’s skirt and pulled up and over her head, and then she stood naked before him, except for the woolen stockings, which were tied under the knee with garters.

There she was before him, all her curves, saggy breasts, and rolls of fat on her behind and on her waist. Only, there was no trace of disgust on his face. There was a sense of awe as his gaze slowly went up and down her body. It felt like he was touching her, ever so lightly, with a feather.

“Just seeing ye makes me as horny as a young bull, lass,” he said.

His voice was a molten, smoky croon that made her knees weak.

He dropped to his knees before her and gently untied the garters that held the stockings in place. Then, slowly, he tugged the stockings down her legs one by one. His caress was like a kiss, sending tickles up her legs and straight into her groin. Burning and aching, she watched him as he slowly kissed her leg, going up, higher and higher, until he reached the apex of her thighs.

She was burning by that point. Tom had never done this. No one had ever done this. No one had made her feel this desire, this freedom, this all-consuming need for one single man.

Aulay.

He spread her folds and sealed her sex with his mouth. Pleasure shot through her in a lightning bolt, sharp and powerful as he touched her there. Slowly, he began exploring her folds, and moved closer to her, putting one of her legs over his shoulder. She held on to the side of the bath with her hands, frozen in place as intense bliss whirled and grew inside her.

“Do ye like that?” he murmured as he planted a kiss right there.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And this?” He plunged his tongue and circled it right around her clit. She jerked as exquisite pleasure spilled through her.

“God, yes…”

He kept working her, asking from time to time what she liked and doing exactly that. Every stroke, every touch, every caress was hotter, and when he inserted a finger inside her, she gasped. The invasion was sweet and wonderful. He stretched her with his fingers, moving in and out, and around and around. She hadn’t had sex with a man since Tom—not for three years. And it had never, even in the happiest moments of their marriage, been this good. Her head spun. She lost all sense of where she was. She knew only he was here, with her, and she was his. Totally and utterly his. She wanted him to invade her…to claim her.

An orgasm slammed through her body, the waves intense and sweet. She felt like she was flying, but he held her tightly, and she was clenching all around him.

When she sagged against him, he stood up and caught her in his arms. “My sweet lass,” he said. “Ye taste better than honeyed fruit.”

She bit her lip and hid her face against his shoulder. “Come now,” he said. “Get into the bath.”

“But what about you?”

“We have all the time in the world. Ye need to enjoy yer bath first.”

She nodded and he helped her get in. As she lowered herself slowly into the hot water, it prickled her skin pleasantly.

“It smells so nice,” she said as she leaned back against the wall. “What is it?”

“Rose, rosemary, meadowsweet, and lavender oil soap,” he said as he handed her a cake of white soap with embedded petals and leaves. “I traded for it when I was in the Kingdom of Galicia a few years ago. Though ’tis made in Naples, I believe.”

“Hmmm…” she murmured as she inhaled the scent. She foamed the soap against her hands and handed it back to him. She first washed her hands thoroughly, the foam turning brown from the residue of blood on her fingers. To her surprise, Aulay took a cup and poured hot water over her hair. Then he foamed his hands and started washing her hair. She melted as his deft fingers massaged her scalp, lifted her hair, and smoothed the soap suds through it.

“Oh, Aulay…this is almost as good as sex…”