The Bath

R app offered to send a footman to assist Niven with his bath, but he declined. He was perfectly capable of undressing himself and there was no point giving a servant a glimpse of his unruly erection. He longed to dispense with the kilt. Not only was it soiled and torn, no self respecting member of a MacGregor sept would ever wear a Cameron plaid. As for the redcoat jacket…

He delayed, hoping Willow would come to him as soon as the scullery lads finished filling the tub.

His cock saluted when she slipped into his chamber without knocking.

"I worried you might have undressed already," she said, blushing endearingly.

Crivvens how he loved this woman. "Nay. I want to be rid o' this uniform, but I want ye to teck it off."

"Too bad," she murmured as she deftly unfastened the buttons of his jacket. "Red becomes you."

"Ye'd hae loved my plumed bonnet," he teased, putting his hands on her hips. "I'm nay sure what became o' it."

Her smile fled. "You've lived through a nightmare."

"Aye. Someday, I'll tell ye about it but now I'm more interested in what ye've been up to."

"Mostly crying, worrying, haranguing my father," she admitted, easing the jacket off his shoulders.

"Weel, the worry is over. Yer menfolk willna try to stop our marriage."

"Who told you this?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Yer father, Rowan, Ash," he replied.

She put her arms around his waist and lay her head on his bare chest. "In some respects," she whispered. "Being torn apart has made things work out for the best."

"Aye, that truth has occurred to me more than once. Eloping might not hae been the right thing for us." He took her hand and led her to the bed where he perched on the edge of the mattress. "Now, speaking o' right things, help me get these infernal army brogues off my aching feet."

Willow was more interested in removing Niven's kilt than his brogues, though peeling off his socks might prove arousing. Not that she wasn't aroused already. Just being with the man she loved caused desire to run unfettered through her body. Breasts swelled, nipples tingled and an ache blossomed in a very intimate place.

Encouraged by his naughty grin, she straddled his outstretched leg, unfastened the side buttons and eventually managed to pull off one scuffed brogue, then struggled in the same way with the other foot.

"Thank God," he sighed, lying prostrate on the bed.

The red and white checkered socks had seen better days. She peeled them off slowly, excited at her first glimpse of his long toes but alarmed by the livid bruises on his legs.

Apparently hearing her gasp, he sat up. "I didna realize," he said. "'Tis the first time I've had my brogues and socks off in quite a while."

The state of his feet bore evidence of his long ordeal, but this wasn't the time for Willow to be judgmental. "Now the kilt, laddie," she said, turning to face him.

Niven took Willow's hands and allowed her to pull him to his feet. He guided her hands to the buckled fastenings. "Go for it, lass," he said, hoping his raging erection didn't frighten her. He'd hardened as soon as she'd entered his chamber. She'd touched his cock before during their clandestine trysts, so must have some idea of his size. But daylight would reveal how generous God had been with his male parts.

Inhaling her perfume when she leaned to unfasten the buckles only hardened him to the point of pain, but also made him aware of his own body's desperate need for a bath.

His lack of hygiene didn't seem to matter to Willow when the kilt dropped to the floor. For what seemed like interminably long minutes, she simply stared at his cock.

"Niven," she finally whispered, her wide eyes full of admiration.

Afraid he might give in to temptation, wrestle her onto the bed and plunge his needy rod inside her, he quickly made for the tub and immersed himself in the blessedly hot water.

Niven's abrupt flight disappointed Willow, but she accepted his longing to be clean again. His whoop of delight brought a smile to her face. "Shall I send for a footman to assist you?" she teased.

"Saucy lass," he replied, his face and long hair already soapy. "Come and wash yer man."

She knelt by the side of the tub, soaped up her hands and began with his shoulders.

He rested his head against the back of the tub and closed his eyes while she ran her hands over the soft hair on his chest. "Ye canna imagine how often I dreamt of yer hands on me, Willow. Ye were the talisman that kept me alive."

"I never stopped thinking about you, Niven," she replied, half her attention on washing his broad chest and well-muscled arms, the other on that part of him that lay hidden under the water. Touching him in the night and setting eyes on his thick, swollen length were two different things altogether. "I somehow knew you were one of the pipers the Gazette told of."

In the silence that followed, she looked up, startled to see he'd opened his eyes.

"Dinna be afraid," he whispered. "Ye canna hurt me and I long for yer touch."

He'd sensed her hesitation and eased it. She lathered up her hands and dipped them into the water. He smiled and closed his eyes again when she took hold of the most intimate part of his body and moved her hands in the way he loved.

Startled when he abruptly ducked his head underwater to rinse off the soap then stood, she giggled when he strode out of the tub and led her to the bed.

In her wildest dreams, she'd never envisaged being kissed by a soaking wet Niven and feeling the heat of his seed on her hand when it erupted from his magnificent male member.

"Take off yer clothes, leannan ," Niven whispered, spent yet not completely satisfied. He wanted to savor and see the pink folds he'd only tasted, but she might deem him too bold. To ease her mind and let her decide how much of her body she would let him see, he stretched out his arms on the bed and claimed the hot water had drained his energy.

Blushing and hesitant when she began to undress, she quickly became impatient to be naked. His heart rejoiced when she came to bed and cuddled into him.

He eased her away and brushed his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. "Yer breasts are even more lovely than I thought," he rasped, lowering his head to suckle. Her sweet moans and the writhing of her hips soon had his cock mocking the notion it was content to curl up and rest.

"Can I taste ye?" he asked, elated when she nodded. His beautiful, wide-eyed English lass trusted him.

He knelt between her parted legs and gazed at the intimate folds his cock demanded to penetrate. No words could describe the admiration and joy in his heart, so he lowered his head, inhaled the intoxicating scent of an aroused woman and suckled her juices.