Chapter Thirty-Two
Three Months Later
B asking in the warmth of rose hips scented water, Amelia stretched out her legs, her body not quite filling the length of the oversized clawfoot tub. The bath seemed a tonic for her weary limbs. After a morning spent walking the grounds of her husband’s family estate, taking in the rugged terrain and drinking in the pure, fresh air, her soul felt an instinctive exhilaration. Sadly, her feet had not experienced the same level of joy. Her toes had felt pinched within her shoes—she’d see to obtaining some proper walking boots quite soon—while her legs had protested against the unfamiliar hills. Now, she savored the calm of this elegantly appointed bath chamber in the MacLain family home.
She propped her head against a small pillow, resisting the urge to close her eyes. At least, for the moment. She wanted to take in every detail of this beautiful room. Separated from their bedchamber by a heavy oak door, the bathing suite was an ingenious luxury, designed with comfort in mind. Above her head, the intricate swirls of the ceiling caught her interest, each pattern lovely in its uniqueness. The mosaic tile floor surrounding the tub had been laid by a skilled craftsman, the pattern in dark and ivory hues betraying an artist’s creative eye, while the intricate details in the wood cabinetry had been constructed in a manner that was both functional and beautiful.
Relaxing against the tub, she sighed and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. She wiggled her toes in the warm water in delight. Ah, she could become accustomed to this. Visiting the place and family that had helped to shape her husband into the man he was would be a pleasure.
She’d traveled to Scotland years earlier, but now, experiencing the sights and sounds and smells with Logan by her side, she’d relished every moment. Logan’s family had welcomed her into the fold, and she treasured the sense of belonging.
The soft protest of the door hinges interrupted her bliss. She opened her eyes to the sight of her husband filling the doorway, a sly smile lifting the corners of his full mouth.
“A more tempting sight I’ve seldom seen.” Logan closed the door behind him and came to her with long, steady strides. Bare to the waist, he’d loosely tied his plaid around his hips. Dappled sunlight streaming through the glazed window over the tub danced over his flat, muscled abdomen, over the light feathering of sable-brown hair on his chest. So very delicious—ah, she would never tire of the sight of her husband’s powerful body.
Amelia’s mouth went dry with longing. She smiled, attempting to play coy, though she knew she’d failed rather miserably. She simply could not conceal her desire for the man who’d stormed into her life and captured her heart.
“I might say the same,” she said, beckoning him to come closer.
“Ye’re a beautiful bride, Mrs. MacLain.” He grinned. “I do like the sound of that—Mrs. MacLain.”
“As do I, Mr. MacLain.”
The diamond and emerald ring Logan had given to her after he dropped to one knee on a London street glimmered as the sun’s rays fell upon it, brilliant as the diamond band Logan had placed on her finger on their wedding day. So very beautiful, a cherished symbol of their love. And their passion.
He took a cloth from a basket near the tub and came to her. His hungry eyes swept over her, from the upswept curls on her head to the peaks of her breasts, skimming over her legs. The rose-scented water concealed little from his gaze, and Amelia relished the way he drank her in. She felt no shyness. No need to hide herself from him. Not when he made her feel as beautiful as any goddess a sculptor ever carved.
Without words, he dipped the square of soft cotton in the water. His expression intent, he drew the cloth over her back and along her nape, setting off tingles of pleasure through her body. Inch by inch, he swept the cotton over her body, his attention to her body tender, almost reverent. Each touch was a seduction.
“Ah, that’s so very nice,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want you to kiss me, Logan.”
“Do ye now?” His eyes gleamed with wicked promise.
She responded in kind, making no attempt to disguise the longing in her tone. “Could you have any doubt, husband of mine?”
“Never.”
He brushed his mouth over hers, a light, teasing caress. Meeting her eyes, he dipped the cloth in the water again, then slowly, deliciously swept it lightly over her breasts. With a tender touch, he caressed each in turn before anointing each peak with a delicious kiss.
Continuing his sensuous ministrations, he made small, light circles with the cloth over her belly. And then lower, between her thighs, stirring her delicious ache for him to a blazing fever.
He kissed her again. Deeply, this time. So very carnal. So very possessive. So very hungry for her.
“Ah, I love you, Logan.” She encircled her arms around his back, pulling him close. His skin was smooth against hers, and she drank in the masculine feel of the man she’d married. The man she loved. With a low sound of need, his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that seared her soul.
And then, she was in his arms. Anticipation rippled through her as he carried her to the bedchamber.
“Ye’re mine, love.” A low fire burned in his eyes as he gently placed her on their bed. “And I am yers. Forever.”
*
A brief time after their delicious midday interlude, Amelia and Logan strolled through the gardens of his family home. She swept him a lingering glance. He had donned a white linen shirt and kilt in shades of green against black. As the breeze blew against the soft wool, she took in the delicious power of his muscular legs and his strong, lean form. Keeping a leisurely pace, he led her to a magnificent old tree, gnarled in spots by centuries of existence, yet breathtaking in its beauty. Smiling, he pointed to a low-hanging branch.
“I’ll have ye know this tree was the cause of the silver in my aunt’s hair. Or so she says”
“The tree?” She smiled at the man she adored, picturing him as a mischievous boy. “Or the lad drawn to scale it?”
He grinned. “It was not the climbing that turned her hair gray. But the tumbles I took.”
“It is a miracle you’re still in one piece.”
“I was a hardy lad. Each time I fell, I wanted to scale the tree again. If only to prove I was not afraid.”
“To yourself?” She studied him for a long moment. “Or to others?”
“To myself. Later, when I grew into a man, I still tried to prove that I was fearless. Again. And again.” He caught her hand in his, his hold possessive and gentle and tender. “Until I met ye.”
Emotion welled in her throat as she saw the adoration in his dark eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Ye’ve taught me that lesson, my sweet Amelia. And more.” With a sensuous touch, he brushed a kiss over the back of her hand. “There are times when we’re in bed at night, just before I fall asleep... when I look at ye, I can scarcely believe my luck.”
She met his smoky gaze. “I also watch you when sleep is near. When we’re relaxed. And warm. I treasure those moments.”
“Just as I treasure you, Mrs. MacLain.”
Amelia’s pulse sped. Would the sensuous notes in her husband’s gravel-edged voice ever cease to set her heart racing?
His lips brushed hers and gently, he drew her closer. The crisp aroma of his shaving soap and the clean scent of Highland air delighted her senses.
A well-timed clearing of a male throat jerked her from her bliss. Logan bit off a curse as he turned to look over his shoulder.
“Tell me ye’re not looking to give poor Aunt Elsie another gray hair?” Ewan MacLain’s smooth voice carried to Amelia’s ears as he made short work of the distance between the manor house and the tree. Long and broad shouldered, Logan’s brother shared his carved features and lean, powerful build and dark hair, but his eyes were green as a forest.
Logan flashed a scowl. “Yer timing leaves a lot to be desired.”
Ewan’s robust chuckle declared his affection for his younger brother. “Ye’re a married man now. Ye’ve no need to be sneaking off for a rendezvous with yer lady.”
“I’d think ye would want me to share my Highland home with my bride,” Logan countered.
“From the looks of it, she wasn’t getting to take in much of the scenery.” Ewan grinned, his expression softening as he met Amelia’s gaze. “My brother’s a lucky man, he is. He had to waste no time putting a ring on yer finger before ye came to yer senses and changed yer mind.”
Glancing at Logan, she couldn’t help but smile. “I count saying ‘I do’ as the wisest words I’ve ever spoken.”
“I meant what I said, Amelia. Logan’s a lucky man to have a woman like ye at his side.”
“I am a fortunate man.” Logan coiled his arm around Amelia and held her close. “Now, what’s brought ye here, brother?”
“Cara and Bonnie have requested Amelia’s presence for afternoon tea.” Ewan looked like he wanted to sigh as he mentioned his spirited young twins. “The girls fancy themselves to be proper young ladies and want to show off their fine manners. Our oldest daughter, Lily, is also eager to spend time with you, Amelia. She’s a young woman now, intrigued by life in the city. She wants to learn all she can about it.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Amelia said, smiling with happiness. “At what time will the tea begin?”
“Cara’s setting up for it now,” Ewan said. “The young lass would not be this excited if Queen Victoria herself had arrived.”
“Somehow, I do think that would be a far more momentous occasion,” Amelia said.
Ewan slowly shook his head. “The girls are thoroughly impressed that ye’ve civilized their uncle.”
Amelia cocked a brow. “Civilized?”
“Suffice it to say that before he met ye, my brother was not above taking part in a brawl in town.”
“Or two,” Logan offered with a cheeky grin.
“Somehow, I’ve no trouble imagining that,” Amelia admitted.
“Ye knew I was a rogue when ye said yes to my proposal.”
“Quite so.” Amelia brushed a kiss against his cheek. “And I am entirely confident of one truth in my life.”
“What might that be, wife of mine?”
She grinned with all the joy in her heart. “You will always be my rogue.”