Page 50 of Claimed by the Clan Chief

“Do you have soap?”

“Aye, sir, just there.” Diane pointed to a fresh bar then looked at Isla. “Is there anything else I can get you, m’lady?”

“I… er…” It was strange to hear herself addressed that way by a friend. “No, thank you, that will be all.”

Diane placed a final pail of water on the fire to warm then left the room.

“Come,” McTavish said. “You should get in here and wash away that hateful village.”

“They were just scared.”

“Do not be so forgiving. They were about to burn you.”

She shuddered as she stood. The blanket fell to the floor exposing her naked form, complete with muddied knees and hands. “Haps you’re right.”

“I ken I am and you ken it too. Never again will we go back to that village and never again will I be so far away from you.” He held out his hand for her to hold. “I can’t even think about what could have…” He swallowed and frowned. “If I had been a few more…” He pulled in a breath. “Sit, I will wash you.”

The warm water was like a balm to her skin and aching back and shoulders. She stretched out her legs, enjoying the way it slid between her thighs.

McTavish kneeled at her side, dipped a cloth into the water then soaped it. Very gently he wiped her face clean, the he did the same to her hands, lifting each one from the water and paying particular attention to her fingers and nails.

He wiped over her breasts then ordered her to sit forward.

She did as he’d asked, the slight splash of the water loud in the quiet room.

“Close your eyes.”

She allowed darkness to fill her vision and sighed as the warmed water from the pail over the fire was tipped gently over her head.

It was then the real heaven started. He soaped up her hair then began to massage her scalp.

“I adore your hair,” he said quietly. “So soft and smooth.”

She didn’t answer, just tipped further into his touch.

“Not something I’d ever thought about before I met you,” he went on, “women’s hair. But yours… I like it in my hands, touching my body, the way the sun shines on it making it so black it’s almost blue.”

“Blue?”

“Aye…” He chuckled. “I’m foolish.”

“Not if that’s what you see.”

“It is.”

He continued to wash then rinse her hair in silence.

With that task complete he set to work on her knees, which had come all but clean in the water. “Did he hurt you?”

“Who?”

“Rabbie Finlay.”

“Not too much.” She glanced at her upper arms; a few fingerprint bruises were growing.

“Damn it. I should have taken his other arm off.”

She shook her head. “He’s paid a heavy price.”

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