Cursing, he pulled his lips away, picked her up, and carried her across the room to drop her in the tub, splashing water everywhere. Only she did not let go of him as she fell, as he had expected. Instead, she clung to him like moss to a tree. He nearly fell into the tub with her, but at the last moment caught the edges and saved himself.

Ignoring the betrayed look she wore, he straightened, ordering tersely, “Hurry and bathe.”

Iliana glared at him from the tub, then leaned back, crossed her arms, and stared straight ahead, making it obvious she was not going to cooperate.

Scowling, he peered at her body in the clear liquid, then glanced at her face and finally her hair. He could see great chunks of manure in the shiny mass of waves. Shifting, he snapped. “Hurry up or I’ll wash ye meself.”

Her only response was an uncaring shrug.

Cursing once more, Duncan moved to kneel beside the tub and started with her hair. Placing a hand flat on the top of her head, he shoved her downward.

Caught by surprise, Iliana went down like a drunken sailor. The water rushed over her face and hair, flowing into her mouth and nose. She burst from under the water seconds later, spluttering, and splashing water everywhere. Before she had even managed to push the wet tresses out of her eyes, Duncan had taken the soap to her hair and started cleaning the long wet masses. Ignoring her shouts and curses when he got soap in her eyes, he worked away, then pushed her beneath the water again and gave her head a shake to help rinse her of the soap he had applied. Then he released her and straightened.

“There. Now clean the rest o’ yerself if ye don’t like the way I do it.”

“I cannot see,” Iliana informed him succinctly, brushing at her burning eyes fretfully.

Sighing, Duncan knelt beside the tub again and took up the soap. Grabbing one arm, he began applying the soap to that. His movements were quick and economical as he cleaned first one arm then the other, and they remained that way until he turned the bar of soap to her chest. Somehow, the swift strokes across her flesh slowed, gentling as the soap disappeared altogether and only his soapy hands moved across her breasts, kneading, caressing, palming.

Eyes still sealed shut against the sting of the soap, Iliana concentrated entirely on his touch, her breathing becoming quick and shallow, her body awakening beneath his caresses. When one hand slid between her legs, Iliana groaned, shuddered, and reached instinctively for him. Bumping her hand into his shoulder, she followed the length of it, wrapping her hand around his neck and whimpering slightly as she begged, “Kiss me. Please, Duncan.”

His lips met hers at once, his own breathing shallow as his tongue delved inside. Then he pulled his head away and gasped, “The bed.”