Slatter was helping his grandmother out of the chair, his strong yet tender arm wrapped around her, lifting her gently to her feet and supporting her as he walked with her to the bed and helped her in it. He tucked the blanket around her and pushed a stray strand of her hair off her face to tuck behind her ear.

It was a scene that would live long in Willow’s memory, her husband so strong and powerful lovingly assisting his petite, frail grandmother with such care and patience.

“You will rest now. I will visit with you later,” he said and kissed her brow.

“You must have important things you need to see to. Worry not about me,” she said, patting his arm.

“You are the most important to me, Seanmhair,” he said and kissed her brow again.

“I do so love you,” she said softly as her eyes drifted shut.

“And I you, Seanmhair,” Slatter whispered and turned to see his wife standing at the open door.

As usual, she was struck by how his smile could stir her senses or was it how lovingly he had been with his grandmother that had touched her heart.

His smile turned mischievous as his arms circled her waist. “I see a spark of desire in your eyes, mo ghaol.”

Willow didn’t deny it. “Aye, you spark an ember that forever burns within me for you with a smile or simple touch.”

He squeezed at the sides of her waist. “Never is my touch simple. Every time my hand touches you it is with purpose, whether to let you know that I am there for you, that I love you, that I ache for you, or that I simply want to feel the comfort of your hand in mine. Purpose, mo ghaol, I always touch you with purpose.” His hand moved off her waist to stroke along her back. “I think we should take this conversation to our bedchamber where I can demonstrate in great detail the purpose of my touch.”

She almost surrendered, forgetting what she was going to ask him, and turned as he directed her, with a slight urging of his hand to her lower back, to the stairs. She was reminded of it with how silently he climbed the stairs behind her, almost as though he wasn’t there.

“I have a question,” she said after entering their bedchamber.

“Let it wait,” he said, his lips already at her neck, teasing the sensitive spots he knew all too well would have her responding with soft moans.

Willow had to push him away and shake her head to gather her wits about her. “It can’t wait.”

“Be quick, I have an ache for you that won’t be satisfied quickly.”

For a moment she gave thought to wait to speak with him until after they made love, worried what she had to ask him might affect both their passion. But in the end she let her sensible nature prevail, especially since she wanted to put the worry to bed before he took her to bed.