Trapped with the Devil of the Highlands (Falling for Highland Villains #3)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The steam rose from the wooden tub to caress Camden’s skin, enticing him to sink into that bliss.

He stared down at his reflection in the still surface as he rested his hands on his belt buckle, his loins burning as hot as the water and the roaring fire beyond. He had not been able to ignore the shock on Paisley’s beautiful face, nor the way her enchanting eyes had widened, taking him in. Not an unpleasant surprise either if her open mouth was anything to go by.

I could make ye feel things that all women should feel at least once in their lives. I could send ye back to that convent with a grin on yer face and memories that would last ye in those silent cloisters.

He trailed his fingertips across the water again, disturbing his reflection.

Closing his eyes for a moment, one hand on his belt, the other on the side of the tub, he let his imagination roam for a short while. He envisioned the singular delight of undressing Paisley slowly, freeing her from the physical representation of what she was tragically choosing to be, and carrying her over to the bathtub.

He pictured lowering her into the tub, hearing her gasp as the warm water enveloped her. Kneeling, he would steal that gasp from her lips in a kiss, his fingertips testing the heat of her skin instead. The slipperiness and softness of it.

Maybe he would take a cloth and wipe away every last bit of the forest and the night’s events from her flesh, before marking it with something altogether more pleasant. A suck, a kiss, leaving his claim on her. A mark that would fade before she went back to take her vows, though the memory would not.

To never ken a man. To never ken a woman’s pleasure. To never experience the power in it.

He resisted the urge to sigh at the injustice, calling on his restraint to chase away all thoughts of corrupting the little novice nun. She had made herself clear—she was not a runaway. She fully intended to return to the convent, and even he had the decency to respect her wishes. Whether he agreed with them or not.

With his back still to her, he asked, “Do nuns take baths with their clothes on, then?”

“Well, nay, but nay man would be with us!” Paisley gasped. “Should ye nae be in yer own chamber?”

He unbuckled his belt slowly. “I suppose ye didnae hear that part either. This is the only room, so it is me chamber. I asked for two chambers, but it couldnae be done.” He let his kilt drop. “Come now, ye should hurry and undress, or else the water will get cold.”

“I’m nae sharin’ a bath with ye, M’Laird!”

Camden turned around to find that Paisley had covered her eyes. The sight was oddly endearing. The young woman had spent almost half of her life in a convent—of course, she would not dare to look upon a naked man. Her very existence was to avoid the temptation of the real world.

“It’s nae any trick of mine to coax ye into wickedness. I wouldnae be askin’ ye to help me if I thought ye could be coaxed into somethin’. I just dinnae want either of us catchin’ our deaths, and there’s only one room and only one tub,” he told her, meaning it. “So, is the problem that I will see ye naked, or that ye’ll see me naked?”

“That ye… Nay, that I… Both!” she stuttered, pressing her thighs tightly together, though it must have hurt to do so with her injured leg.

He smirked, spotting a length of embroidered cloth that was supposed to hold back the drapes. “Then let’s make sure ye dinnae see aught.”

He retrieved the cloth and padded over to her, the floor cold beneath the soles of his feet. He knelt down, taking a moment to admire the vibrant color of her hair and the nervous movement of her plump lips, as if she was trying to think of something to say.

“Close yer eyes and take yer hands away,” he instructed.

She did as he asked, likely realizing that the healing warmth of a hot bath was greater than the sacrifice of having to share it.

Careful not to snare any of her hair in the knot, Camden tied the cloth around her eyes. “Can ye see anythin’?”

She shook her head, and he imagined those extraordinary green eyes open behind the embroidered cloth.

“Do ye need help with yer clothes?” he proceeded.

She bit her lip in a manner that made his loins stir, but he had made his decision—he would be the perfect gentleman to the nun in need. For now, he was more concerned about tending to her leg, showing he could be trusted so she would agree to help him while he helped her.

A moment later, she nodded. “Yes, please.”

Dinnae say “Please.” Ye dinnae ken what that does to me.

Taking a steadying breath, he unlaced her boots and pulled them off, one after the other. Her stockings came next, her breaths becoming shallow as he raised her skirts to reach the ribbons that held the stockings in place. There was a moment where her breath hitched at the feel of his fingertips against her calf, a pretty pink hue rising to her neck and cheeks.

“Stand up,” he told her, taking her hand to help her.

She held onto him a second longer than necessary, prompting him to take both of her hands and put them on his shoulders for balance. Her eyebrows rose, her breath catching as her palms rested on his bare skin, but she did not recoil as she had done before. She held onto him, letting him help her.

Fortunately, the shapeless habit had no buttons or laces that required fiddly attention. All he had to do was grasp her skirts and pull the coarse woolen dress up and over her head. The two thin shifts beneath followed the same path, her hands tentatively lifting from his shoulders each time, before settling back where they were.

Soon enough, she stood before him blindfolded, wearing nothing but her undergarments. Her hands still rested on his shoulders, as if they were at the beginning of a dance. Camden had to resist the urge to place his hands on her narrow waist, which was accentuated by simple stays.

“May I pick ye up?” he asked as she trembled in the cold room.

She bit her lip again, her nod more confident.

With greater care, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her to the tub, slowly lowering her into the steaming water in case it was too hot.

She gasped, as he had imagined she would. He did not need to look down to know the effect she was having on him, but he ignored it. She was not for him—she was, in essence, a formidable man’s wife. Or she would be once she took her vows. He would not attempt to stand in the way of that, for her very position, her very status was the reason she was the perfect woman to help him in his task.

He climbed into the tub after her, her bent legs between his, careful to avoid them touching.

Soaking a cloth, he hesitated. “Can I clean yer wound?”

“I have come this far,” she replied, an unexpected hint of dry humor in her tone. “Aye, ye can, since it’s for… medicinal purposes.”

Leaning forward, Camden gently pressed the cloth to the cut around her knee, acutely aware of every wince and gasp that escaped her lips. As he washed away the blood and dirt, it comforted him to find that the ragged wound was not as deep as he had first thought. She would have a scar, but the mark might be faint if she took care of it.

Wrapping her knee in the cloth, he took another and set to work on the rest of her, paying close attention to the little cuts across her arms, shins, hands, face, and neck. The thorns and thin, low-hanging branches of the forest had not been merciful.

Diligently, he dabbed and caressed and smoothed the damp cloth over her creamy skin, pleased to discover that there was a whole universe of freckles to chart and admire. Meanwhile, she seemed perfectly content, relaxing into the water with her head resting on the edge of the tub, her neck slightly arched.

“Dinnae fall asleep,” he warned.

She sighed. “I willnae.”

Cleansed thoroughly, he let her enjoy the bath as he soaked his own tired body. But the water was beginning to get cold. If he did not get her out and dry and into the waiting bed, she would start shivering afresh.

“We need to get ye some new clothes before we ride to me castle,” he said. “Cannae have me council findin’ out about the ruse before it even starts, and yer attire would give ye away.”

She pulled up the blindfold suddenly, perhaps forgetting why she was wearing it. “And what about me castle? I told ye I want to talk to me parents. Ye’re assumin’ too much.”

“Or too little,” he murmured, frowning. “Ye’re nae Laird Morris’s daughter, are ye?”

Her earlier reluctance to tell him about where in the Morris lands she planned to go, and the realization that she had only told him her given name, finally made some sense. He had heard that Laird Morris had a daughter, but no one had ever seen her. There had been many whispers that she had been stolen away or that she had died, but perhaps the secret was more… clandestine.

Paisley nodded hurriedly, scrunching up her face in annoyance. With herself, no doubt. It appeared she had not meant to mention who she belonged to, her obvious frustration prompting her to clamber out of the tub in a rush.

“Aye,” she muttered, “but I’d like to remind ye of me previous remark—ye’re assumin’ too much. I never agreed to yer plan.”

She wrapped herself in a dry bath sheet, her eyes flitting this way and that, looking for somewhere to dress without him seeing something he should not. A ratty privacy screen leaned against the far wall. She hurried toward it, pulling it out and darting behind the safety of the folding screens.

“I dinnae suppose that changes things, does it?” she called out. “Bein’ a laird’s daughter, are ye nae obliged, as a laird yerself, to see me home safely?”

Camden chuckled and emerged from the soothing water, grabbing a bath sheet of his own. “Nay, it doesnae change aught. And, sweetlin’, ye dinnae need to agree. Ye just need to obey, then we both get what we want.”

He dressed quickly, sneaking a glance at the privacy screen. There was a tear in it that Paisley must have missed, allowing him a pleasing glimpse of her. A smile crept onto his lips as she pushed down her sodden drawers and tossed them over the side of the screen, revealing the perfection of pert, round buttocks for half a second before she wrapped the bath sheet around herself once more.

Remember who she is.

He concentrated on fastening his belt and tying back his dark hair, realizing that he had to be doubly careful with her. A novice nun who was also a laird’s daughter was not someone to trifle with.

“If ye dinnae obey, I’ll just have to keep possession of yer garments until ye do,” he said, picking up the clothes he had peeled off her.

A gasp rang out from behind the screen. “Ye’ll give them to me at once!”

“Nay, ye’ll have to come out and wrestle them from me.” He did not mean it, but he was keen to see what she would do.

She bolted out of her hiding place, marching toward him with a furious scowl on her face. Without hesitation, she grabbed her clothes with one hand, while the other held her bath sheet in place.

Her strength surprised him, a wiry power in her lithe limbs. But she had not considered the length of the sheet around her, and as she pulled, her foot caught in the linen. Her eyes widened, her free hand shooting out to grab him instead of her clothes.

She stumbled into him breathlessly, and he dropped her clothes, his arm slipping around her to hold her to him. He could not have her falling again, now that he knew how precious his cargo was.

Tempting green eyes peered up, her bosom rising and falling with frantic breaths that stirred his desire. Her lips parted slightly, her hand curling tighter around the fistful of his shirt she had grabbed.

He dipped his head, his free hand coming up to cradle her slender neck. “All ye need to do is obey,” he whispered. “Ye willnae regret it.”

Every inch of him longed to kiss her, to show her just once what the real world could offer. To his mind, considering she had not yet taken her vows, she would not be breaking any promises.

Pleasure is as close to paradise as any person can get on this earth, lass. It is the most heavenly thing two people can share.

“There would be nay sin in it,” he murmured, finishing the thought aloud.

A shaky breath slipped past her lips, her body pressing more firmly against his. A gleam shone in her eyes, like a hunger of the soul, while she ran her teeth over her lower lip.

Camden had seen that look before, knew it intimately—a look of unspoken want. But he had never wanted to satiate the hunger in that look as much as he did at that moment, with her. He doubted he had ever met anyone who stirred his desires this way.

“Dinnae,” she whispered. “I will return to the convent soon, and I will return in the same condition that I left.”

He pulled away, cursing under his breath. “Then stay on yer feet and master yer balance.” He softened his voice. “I’ll respect yer ‘condition’ and yer wishes as long as ye dinnae provoke me.”

“And as long as I do everythin’ ye want me to?” she said, aiming for sarcasm, but her voice still brimmed with that unspoken want. A thrum of wanton curiosity.

He sighed, taking a good look at her. The bath sheet clung to all the right places, accentuating the kind of curves that could make any man kneel at the altar of her divine form. Not for the first time, he thought it was a shame that she was determined to remain untouched.

If ye did everythin’ I want ye to, ye’d be with me in that bed right now.

“Ye’ll be safe with me,” he said instead. “I’ll fetch clothes for ye while ye dry off, and when we reach me castle, I’ll send a letter ahead to yer parents. They must’ve been eager to protect ye from somethin’ if they left ye with the nuns. It wouldnae be wise to show up unannounced.”

Paisley grimaced and retreated a few steps, brushing a damp copper strand from her face. “Fine,” she grumbled. “We’ll do it yer way.”

“I kenned ye’d change yer mind,” he said with a grin, heading for the door.

“Nae about everythin’!” she called after him, reiterating just how difficult it was going to be to keep his distance from her.

As he headed down the stairs in search of clothes for the nun, Camden had to wonder how he was going to endure a month in her company, in close quarters, feigning an attachment, without them both breaking their promises.

I could survive MacDunn, but can I survive this novice nun?