“That is my favorite!”
“Yes, weel, ye won’t be enjoying any of it unless ye get yer naked arse over here wi’ me so I can bathe ye.”
“Fine,” I declare, slightly perturbed at being coerced. “You seem to like challenging me, dear husband. Don’t think it has gone unnoticed.”
“Aye, I do,” he agrees with a laugh. “It’s damn good fun to watch ye get all flustered.”
Not one to ever pass up a good challenge, I take a deep breath, lower my entire body underwater, then swim the whole way to him, rolling onto my back to swim around him again, relishing the stunned look on his face.
“That was verra good, Ella. Yet another thing ye do better than most men.” He lowers himself down into the water and reaches for me, pulling me to him. “Wrap yer legs around my waist.” And so, I do. He doesn’t say more, only looks at me with a peculiar expression and begins to wash my back and neck, then slowly moves around to my shoulders and chest. He is serious now, focused on the task of bathing me, but not as if it were a mundane chore—it’s like he’s worshiping me. He’s so tender yet methodical, his big hands moving in slow circles across my skin. The coarseness of the soap scrapes gently, its strong scent surrounding me with that unique mixture of flowers and pine.
“Stand up,” he says.
He washes my breasts and my stomach, then turns me around to wash my lower back. He stands then, wraps his arm around my chest, and pulls me to him, his mouth resting against my ear. “Yer beauty drives me mad, Ella.” His voice is low and raspy, but he doesn’t say more, only lowers his hand further down, gently cleaning between my legs. I swallow the whimper lodging in my throat just as he turns me around to face him. It feels too good when he cleans me from the front. I almost beg him to stop since I know he will go no further.
“Et’s too much fer ye, aye?” he asks, reading my mind, again.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Here. Take this.” He hands me the soap. “I’ve been looking forward to this fer three days.” His dimple is deep with his admission.
I don’t talk as I begin to bathe his sinuous body. I take my time exploring every curve and valley, the coarse hair as it thickens and thins in various areas of his form. I understand why he took his time with me, why he became quiet and focused. I feel like I’m worshipping him now. It seems spiritual, sensual, and natural. An image comes to my mind, inspired by this moment and a book I read from Father’s library. It talked of the ancient people of this land who worshipped nature: the trees, the water, the animals. I can’t help but wonder if this was a ritual for them. Cleaning your mate in an icy pool of crystal-clear water while the mist from a waterfall floats through the air.
Alasdair takes the soap from my hand, what little is left of it, and finishes washing himself. “It does’na seem respectful to have ye clean some parts of me.” His wink makes me laugh as he dips down into the water to hide while he finishes the job.
Once he is done, he pulls me to him again. “Let’s rinse off and go see yer waterfall.”
“Wait.” I wrap my arms and legs around him like before. “Thank you,” I say against his mouth before taking him in a deep and sensual kiss. I stop before it can get too heated. “This was a gift, Alasdair. One I will never forget.”