Page 5 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

5

“ O h, this water is a gift from God, it is.”

Alison could not stop the moan that escaped her lips as she slid into the warm bath, feeling it immediately soothe her sore muscles. The layer of dirt that coated her began to dissolve, leaving her skin feeling refreshed and clean.

She dunked her head below the water, wetting her hair. Her cheek stung when the hot water touched it, and she was reminded of the cut one of her captors had left on it.

Alison scrubbed her skin, trying to purge herself of everything that had happened over the last few days.

She kept scrubbing, applying the soaps and oils the maids had brought her until her skin felt raw and polished, until every speck of dirt and droplet of blood had been removed.

I cannae stop. I cannae stop until ‘tis all gone—every last bit of it.

By the time she was finished, the water had cooled around her. She stood up in the bath, allowing the water to run down her body in rivulets and stepping out of it to dry.

Alison could hear the chatter and revelry in the tavern below, and she could not help but wonder what her husband was doing there.

Gettin’ pished is me guess .

But the words in her mind didn’t sound angry. She was too tired for that and too grateful that he had come to her aid.

Even if she refused to admit it to him.

Once she was dry, she stepped back into her underclothes. Using a cloth, she scrubbed at some of the worst spots on her dress, banishing them just as she had done to the dirt on her skin, before laying the dress down to dry.

The soft, plump bed was beckoning her. She had not truly slept since she was taken, resting only in fitful bursts while propped against the wall. Climbing into the bed, she felt her entire body begin to relax.

She eventually drifted off to sleep, but it was fitful. Not long afterward, she awoke from the bang of the door as it swung open. Sitting up, she saw Duncan striding in.

She had expected him to be drunk, but his movements were sure and steady as he crossed the room and sat down on his side of the bed.

“Ye should take a bath, too,” Alison quipped, wrinkling her nose at him.

The only light in the room came from the full moon, which cast its silvery beams through the windows, and the flickering lantern that hung on the wall by their bed. It must have been enough for him to see her, because he looked steadily at her face, his eyes roving over her features.

“Will ye be wantin’ to leave if I bathe?” he asked, catching her off guard.

She considered it for a moment, thinking of the extra energy it would take to slide out from beneath the pile of blankets she had pulled over herself. She did not think she could bear it.

“Nay. I’ll just roll over and go back to sleep. I dinnae want to look at ye without yer clothes on in any event.”

His eyes flashed. “Despite what ye think, I am still yer husband,” he growled. “’Tis best that ye mind yer tone.”

“Mind me tone?” she fired back. “What do ye mean, mind me tone?”

He glowered at her. “I’ve been patient with ye, kennin’ ye’ve been through quite a lot,” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “But the things I’ve seen these past five years change a man. I’m nae the same man ye married, dinnae forget that.”

Duncan said nothing further as he pushed off the bed and walked over to the bathtub. She could hear him stripping down and the soft thud of his clothes as they fell to the wooden floor.

Water splashed as he sank into the tub, moving about as he began washing himself.

“Ye’ll want to get a change of clothes, too, if ye want to meet me daughter tomorrow,” Alison advised, trying to lighten the tone of her voice.

Rosie would no doubt be terrified of the blood that was splattered across the Laird’s clothes.

“She’s me daughter,” he reminded her, his tone possessive.

“Aye, and ye’ve nae seen her since she was the size of a spud,” Alison quipped, almost immediately regretting it as his previous warning echoed in her mind.

“Careful,” he cautioned again in a low growl but said nothing else.

Every part of her wanted to roll over and glower at him. She was not a woman who took kindly to being told what to do, but she was trying her best to heed his words.

It willnae serve me to be fightin’ with him afore he’s even gotten me home. He might just drop me off in the woods if I’m nae careful.

She was effectively reminded of what she stood to lose—Rosie, to whom she wanted so desperately to return.

Alison also did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her looking at him while he was naked. Although she was sure it would be a glorious sight.

She tried to tune out the sounds of him washing, rolling over on the bed and curling in on herself to block out the sounds, but it was no use. Even when she grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over her ear, she could still hear the water sloshing in the brass tub. Finally, it became too much.

Ripping the pillow away from her ear, Alison sat up in bed and turned toward her husband. “I’m tryin’ to sleep, would ye mind…”

The words died in her throat as she took in the sight before her.

Somehow, in the heat of her annoyance, she had forgotten that the sound of splashing water sometimes accompanied standing up in the tub. Because standing up was exactly what her husband was doing.

Duncan was in the center of the tub, his powerful body revealed in all its glory. Thankfully, the moonlight streaming in behind him caused him to be mostly cloaked in shadow, so she could not see very much.

She immediately rolled over again, admonishing herself for having been so foolish. Even if something in the back of her mind was thrilled for having seen her husband standing stark naked before her.

“Like what ye see, lass?”

Alison heard the humor in the Laird’s voice as he stepped out of the tub. She did not look at him again but listened as he pulled his clothes over his still-damp skin.

“Only in yer dreams,” she fired back, but her voice did not possess as much bite as it normally did.

Alison felt the other side of the mattress sink as Duncan sat down.

“Why did ye nae get two rooms, ye walloper?” she murmured.

Although she had said the words mostly to herself, Duncan heard them all the same.

“There was only one room,” he said with a shrug, before giving her a pointed look. “And I dinnae like bein’ questioned by me own wife.”

She held back her retort, remembering his words from earlier. She felt the mattress move as her husband sank onto it beside her, and her heart immediately began to race.

It was the first time in her life that Alison had to share a bed with anyone other than Rosie, and she could not help but wonder how anyone did it.

With Rosie, at least her body was small, even though she kicked like a donkey. But with her husband in bed beside her, Alison found herself entirely unable to get comfortable.

No amount of distance was sufficient for her to stop feeling his massive presence beside her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape the heat radiating from his body.

She lay on her side, her pillow clutched firmly under her head, and tried to make herself as small as possible. She sighed and resigned herself to enduring a very restless night.

“Will ye settle, lass?” The Laird’s voice was gruff, floating through the night to greet her.

She did not respond, too consumed with trying to calm her nerves and racing mind. Her ruminations spun around and around, but there was one thought to which her mind kept returning.

How am I goin’ to get through this until he leaves?