Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Isabelle shivered slightly as Declan wrapped a thick fur around her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment on her arms.
“Here,” he said, pressing a flask of whiskey into her hands, “this’ll warm ye through, lass.”
She took a careful sip, the warmth crawling down her chest, easing the chill from her bones.
“Ye’re fierce, Declan,” she murmured, her eyes lifting to meet his, “but it was dangerous to take on those men alone.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Fierce?” he said, his voice low and rough with amusement. “Aye, that’s ye. I just happen to be stubborn enough to match ye.”
She laughed softly, feeling the tension in her chest ease. “Stubborn together, then,” she whispered, letting her head rest against his shoulder, “but I’m glad ye came for me.”
Declan walked to the hearth and tossed a few more logs onto the fire, the flames leaping higher, bathing the room in a warm glow.
“There, that should chase away the chill,” he said, returning to her side and brushing the fur closer around her.
“Ye’ve a fire in yer heart too, Isabelle. Nae man nor bandit could ever snuff it out.”
Her lips curved in a small smile, eyes misty. “And ye’ve a fire in yer soul, Declan Cain,” she said softly. “I ken that now more than ever.”
A knock came at the door, firm but hurried. Mabel entered, followed by a long row of servants carrying tubs, cloths, and buckets of boiling water.
“Quickly now, every one of ye,” Mabel commanded. “Set the tub in front of the fire. We’ve little time, and Lady Isabelle needs care.”
The servants hurried, placing the tub in the center of the room and carefully filling it with steaming water.
Sarah, the maid, set a tray of tea on the bed and gave Isabelle a gentle smile. “I am glad to see ye are unharmed, me Lady ,” she said softly, bowing her head.
Isabelle reached out and took the cup, giving Sarah a thankful look. “I am grateful, Sarah. And Mabel, thank ye both for seeing to me.”
Mabel adjusted the cloth pile beside the tub, her expression softening as she glanced at Isabelle.
“Ye’ve had a fright, lass, but ye’re safe now,” she said, her tone motherly and firm.
Isabelle nodded, taking a deep breath, letting the heat from the tea and the fire seep into her bones.
“Aye,” she whispered, “I am safe… because Declan brought me home.”
Declan lowered himself beside her, resting a hand lightly on hers.
“Nae more lonely walks to icy shores, Isabelle,” he said, voice gentle but edged with warning.
She smiled faintly, squeezing his hand in return.
“Nay more walks alone,” she agreed, her heart finally settling, warmed not just by the fire but by the man at her side.
“I believe I can take it from here,” he said to those gathered in the room.
The servants piled out of the room, and Mabel gave Isabelle one last reassuring look.
Isabelle’s breath caught as Declan closed the door behind the servants, leaving the room bathed in firelight.
He stepped close, eyes dark with intensity, and said, “I’ll take it from here. Rest easy, lass; ye’ve had enough fright for one day.”
Her pulse quickened, the warmth from the fire and the heat in his gaze making her chest flutter. She nodded, unable to speak, feeling the weight of his presence pressing gently against her.
He guided her out of her snow-damp clothing, his hands firm yet careful as he stripped away the layers, revealing her shivering form beneath.
“Easy now,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. “We’ll get ye warm.”
Isabelle’s skin tingled under his touch, every brush of his fingers igniting sparks she could scarcely contain. She closed her eyes as he lifted her into the hot bath, the warmth enveloping her, sending shivers of a different sort down her spine.
Declan dipped a cloth into the steaming water, his hands moving over her shoulders, down her arms, and across her back with deliberate, tender care.
Isabelle’s breath hitched, the closeness of his body and the intimacy of his touch making her heart hammer in her chest.
“Ye’re freezing, Isabelle,” he murmured, leaning in so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.
She swallowed hard, unable to find words, caught between the desire to speak and the need to simply feel him near.
Her fingers brushed against his as he carefully washed her, the smallest touches sending waves of warmth through her.
“Ye’ll be safe now,” he said, voice low and steady though it wavered with the depth of feeling she could sense.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, seeing not just the Laird but the man who had risked everything for her.
“I trust ye, Declan,” she whispered, the words heavy with longing and an unspoken promise, her body alive under his touch and the undeniable heat between them.
His hands lingered on her shoulders, tracing the line of her collarbone, and she shivered with a mixture of warmth and anticipation.
“Ye’ll nae be cold any longer, lass,” he murmured, fingers brushing a stray lock of damp hair from her face.
She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the steady strength of his arms as he drew her close, heart meeting heart.
“I ken another way ye can warm me up, husband,” she observed.
She shifted her legs, opening her thighs. He groaned as he watched.
“Aye, I can do that if ye think it would help, wife,” he said with a smirk.
Declan’s hands moved with tender care over her breasts, massaging her with the gentlest of pressure.
She gasped as he cupped her, his thumb brushing against her pink rosy mounds.
“Ye’re mine, Isabelle,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion, “and I’ll pleasure ye now and forever.”
She responded by pressing her palm to his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin, and murmured, “And I am yours, Declan, aye, wholly and entirely.”
He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss across her lips then down along her neck until his mouth rested on her breasts, teasing and licking.
The act sent shivers down her spine. Her hands roamed to his shoulders, gripping gently, and he sighed against her skin, lips.
“I’ve wanted ye so, these days apart,” he admitted, eyes searching hers with a fire she could feel in her own veins.
“I felt it too, every moment, aching for ye,” she said.
Declan’s hand drifted lower, down to her waist, slowly moving between her thighs.
“Oh, Declan. I’ve longed for yer touch,” she moaned.
“And I to feel ye in me hands again,” he groaned.
His thumb traced a slow pattern on her secret place. She placed her leg on the edge of the tub, allowing him more room to roam.
Every stroke he made on her rosebud, deliberate, full of longing and reverence.
Isabelle felt herself leaning into every motion, her body humming with awareness, her heart swelling in the quiet intimacy between them.
“That feels so good,” she moaned.
“Aye, is it warming ye?” he teased.
“I’m very heated now,” she groaned.
The water rippled around them, but it was their closeness that set her skin alive, his strong hands grounding her as they moved together, a rhythm of intimacy.
She felt the pressure mounting between her thighs. The gentle pulse that lingered low in her belly.
“I’ve longed for ye to touch me like this,” she whispered.
Isabelle’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, his neck, and the broad plane of his chest, and each touch made her body hum with the desire to have him, body and soul.
“I was a fool nae to be in yer bed every night,” he admitted, voice hoarse with feeling, “and now, I’ll never let that happen ever again.”
She pressed closer, feeling the intensity of the mounting sensation, and whispered, “Then show me, Declan.”
His hand moved faster and faster, massaging her rosebud. She wiggled, causing the water splash over the edges.
“Oh, Declan,” she moaned. “I’m losing control.”
Her body shuddered as she released in orgasmic bliss. She watched as Declan’s eyes moved over her body with heat and lust in his eyes.
Isabelle’s arms wrapped around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, a gasp escaping her lips at the depth of the tremor.
“Ye’re more than I deserve,” he moaned, brushing a gentle kiss across her jawline, and she tilted her face into his hand, feeling her soul ignite under his tender caress.
“And ye’re my heart, Declan,” she breathed, “me strength, me home.” Isabelle smiled— she was finally where she belonged.