Behind the Plaid (23 page)

Bare naked, I’d not lit a fire in my room. Told the maids never to do so since there was no telling when I would return. The cool night air wafted through the windows, and should have chilled my skin. But my gaze was locked on the secret panel that led into Emma’s room
. My skin was burning hot. Cock raging hard and jutting from my body like a sword seeking its victim.

A shudder passed through me and a drop of moisture beaded the tip
of my cock. I refused to pleasure myself. I was saving release for Emma. And once I went there, it would be beyond paradise. I continued to stare at her door, imagining what lesson I would teach her next. Had to fling the coverlet over my waist to hide my incessant erection. I craved her; would have been better off strapped to the bed to keep me grounded. And that gave me an idea.

Another
lesson… A lesson in trust. I blew out a hot breath imagining Emma tied to the bed as I ravished her. ’Twas too soon to introduce that. Too soon. For all her passion, she appeared so innocent.

And her husband had not been kind. Just thinking on it brought rage to fuel my blood. The bastard. How could he have treated her any way but with gentle kindness? A woman was to be valued, and a wife cherished.
If I had a wife, I would seek only to please her. Albeit, she would also have to obey me. To be my wife, a woman would be placed in grave danger. I am hunted. And so she would be as well. She’d be used against me in any way an enemy could find.

Yet another reason why
my arrangement with Emma had to be kept secret. And why I couldn’t allow myself to…care. The latter was a feat proving harder than imagined. I did care for her. I cared for her safety foremost. But the demons that haunted her… We appeared to have similar damaged souls and I hoped in helping to release her ghosts, I could release some of my own. There were those that would be with me forever, and only death would give me solace from them.

I took a l
ong pull from the flask, feeling the beginnings of drowsiness creep into my eyes. Blinking lasted longer.

I
tossed the flask to the floor, extinguished the candle and was cast into darkness. I welcomed it. The whisky had done its job by dulling my senses and sleep seemed like it may come easy tonight.

“Goodnight, Emma,” I said to the secret door.

Tomorrow I would treat Emma with kindness. Ignite in her a gentle pleasure. Show her that not all men are evil. That she could trust me, open up to me. I wanted to know more about her.

I would give her another lesson. And in so doing, escape from myself.

Chapter Seventeen

Emma

M
uscles hurt in places I didn’t even know existed. Deep, internal muscles that had never been used screamed their protest as I stretched out on the bed, and tossed back the covers. Logan was not only changing me mentally, but physically. He was my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I wondered if he’d wanted it to be that way. Made intoxicating love to me knowing he’d be forever ingrained in my mind.

Logan. Even his name was full of brawn and sexuality.

With a snort of disgust I shoved myself from bed and trudged to the window, opening it to the morning sunshine. As if on cue, a knock came at the door. I hoped, well, more than hoped, it was Logan. Instead several maids entered, and young men followed with a wooden tub.

“His lairdship thought ye might like a bath this morning.”

I nodded, watching as they set up the tub, the linens, and then bucket after bucket of water was poured in. While the tub was prepared, the maids made the bed and tidied the room. At last, the males left, and four maids remained. Would I ever get used to them washing me?

“My lady,” Agatha said, wringing her hands in her apron. “His lairdship had us bring wax
and a blade.”

My eyes widened. They’d never waxed a woman before
—nor shaved her—and the thought of them anywhere near my nether region and legs brought cold sweats and fear to me faster than Steven ever had.

“Will ye show us how ’tis done?”

I nodded. The maids set up beeswax candles on the table. The blade glistening beside a bottle of oil.

“We brought the best wax.”

The maids looked as nervous as I felt. My legs were feeling a bit prickly, and could use a shave. Starting on them was the best choice before I let them near my privates. I just prayed my legs didn’t get a hack job.

“I’ll bathe first. It works best if the pores are open.”

“Pores, my lady?” Agatha asked.

“Yes, the place where your hair comes from. The warm water helps to open them a little which will make taking the hair off that much easier.”

Agatha and the other maids nodded and stepped forward to help me undress. Considering I was in a nightgown only, it didn’t take long. With my face hot with embarrassment, I slipped into the tub and tried to relax as they washed my hair and scrubbed my arms, hands, shoulders, breasts, belly, legs, even my tender sex.

“Should ye get out of the water for the waxing
and shaving?”

I nodded and stood, holding my hands to the side as I was instructed while the maids dried me off.

Grabbing the clean linen chemise they set out, I slipped it over my head, feeling less exposed and then settled myself on the bed.

“Let us shave my legs first. Have you ever used a blade to shave before?” I winced.

Agatha nodded. “Aye, I’ve shaved a man’s face with it.”

“Okay. Hand me the oil.” I spread the oil over my legs and stared with trepidation at the blade. I’d never used a knife to shave, and was more than scared. “My razor doesn’t look like yours, can you show me how you used it?”

“Aye, my lady.” Agatha placed the blade at an angle on my shin and scraped slowly upward. I was shocked that none of my skin came with it, and instead she gathered oil and hair.

“Well, done, Agatha!” I smiled at her and waited for her to finish the task. The other maids looked on with awe, each citing that they wished to try it next on themselves. I’d started a fad.

“Now, we shall wax ye.” Agatha handed the blade to a maid who took it to the bath and rinsed it.

I cringed. It hurt like hell to get your crotch waxed.

“Light the candles,” I said, hoping this wouldn’t be too painful. The women at the salon used a special beeswax. Was it too much to hope it was the same type of beeswax? Probably.

“What should we do first, my lady?” Agatha and the maids each br
ought a lit candle toward the bed.

This was going to hurt like hell. “Drip a bit of the wax on my finger, I want to see how hot it is.” I leaned up on an elbow and held out my hand.

Agatha’s brow was furrowed, lips thinned as she dripped the wax onto my finger tip. A slight sting, but then it dried immediately, no pain. Not as bad as I thought. Much like when I went to the salon. Seeing how the wax dried instantly, there would be no need for linen strips. Instead, the other maids would have to rip the dried wax off—and with it my hair.

“
Agatha, you drip the wax, and you ladies, pull it off.”

The other maids nodded, their faces full of concern as they set down their candles on the side table. If I weren’t so nervous for how this would end, I’d laugh. Here I was, five hundred years in the past, lying on a castle bed, nearly nude, and about to be waxed by a bunch of medieval maids who’d never even heard of the task before. Just wild. And so fantastical. I’d never have believed it myself, except the memories of Logan’s touch, his wh
ispered words, the deep pull between us…they were tangible and potent.

“It may be best if you climb onto the bed Agatha, so the maids have more room.” I patted the space beside my legs, trying to get them all to feel more comfortable. Even if I wasn’t entirely. Best to get it done.

Agatha nodded, lifted her skirts and scooted on her knees to the place beside my legs. The candle trembled in Agatha’s hand, bits of wax spilling onto the linen I’d spread. She held it over pubic bone and tilted so hot wax poured onto my skin. I bit my lip at the instant hot sting, but it quickly cooled. She dripped more in a line. But it wasn’t a thick enough layer. There had to be a better way to do this…

The maids pulled the dried wax off—which also stung—leaving a thin
, small strip of stinging, hairless labia.

“We’ll be at this all day if we aren’t more efficient,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Agatha said, the maids following suit.

“No, no, it isn’t your fault. I think when you pour, I’ll smooth it out immediately before it dries to cover a bigger area.” I motioned for her to pour and when she did, I smoothed the wax while it was still soft, feeling the pull on my
tender flesh. The wax stuck a little to my fingers, but dried thicker. The maids waited several seconds and then yanked the hard wax off.

“Ow!” I cried out, un
sure I could handle anymore.

“Lass, I can see ye hesitating. And believe me, I wouldna want it done myself, but the laird…”

If Logan wanted it, how could I deny him? Steven had never cared about it, but Logan… God, he’d been enamored, loved the silky feel of my lips as he plunged a finger inside or licked me like a melting ice cream cone. I nodded, spread my thighs and waited for the next hot drop.

Agatha held the hot wax above me. I closed my eyes.

“Open your eyes, my lady. I’ll need ye to make sure we do this right, else we’ll be at this all day,” she teased.

“We promise not to hurt ye,” the other maids said quietly, the first time they’d spoken to me today.

I opened my eyes and peered up at them. They looked ever more nervous than when we’d done the first strip, and rightly so. This was my vagina! I almost laughed aloud. The stories these ladies would tell, if they could, of how they’d poured candle wax on the laird’s lover’s privates and then ripped off her hair. Sounded more like a punishment than a cosmetic remedy.

“Let’s get his over with,” I muttered. Then held up my hands. “Wait!”

The maids startled and looked at me with wide eyes.

“Give me a sip of something strong.”

Agatha chuckled a little, and pointed to the shorter of the two maids. “Get her the wine.”

A jug of wine sat on a sideboard table, and the maid poured a healthy portion into the waiting pewter cup. I guzzled it like I’d been crawling through the hottest desert. The potent, thick wine went straight to my veins—
as if it bypassed my stomach altogether. I was warmer, lighter, gigglier.

“All right, I’m ready.”

Agatha didn’t wait for me to stop her again. She poured the wax on the inside of my thigh, close to my lips, and I smoothed it out. The maids waited for it to harden, then yanked.

“Ow!” I cried out, then laughed. Good God, it hurt!

The maids tittered nervously, but I waved for them to continue. We did the inside of my thighs, then moved inward to the lips—the hardest part. Agatha moved slower, dripping less wax, most likely knowing it was more painful on the lips than on the thigh. We moved up to what had been a racing stripe of hair. I wondered if Logan would like it completely bare. A sexy surprise.

“Wax all of it,” I instructed. And props to the maids, not one of them raised a brow. Another quarter of an hour later and we were done. I stared down at the juncture of my thighs. Bare, red. And wet. Just thinking of Logan’s reaction when we saw me, my sex dripped with need and clenched, waiting to be filled.

I snapped my thighs closed, my face probably as red as my vag. “I’m hungry.” I tried for nonchalant, but my voice came out a little squeaky. Had they noticed the moisture growing between my folds? Lord, I hoped not. I yanked the gown over my legs. “Will you help me dress so I can eat?”

“Aye, my lady.
Brenda, see to her meal.” Agatha climbed from the bed. “Keira, get the lads to come and take away the bath.”

The other maids left the room, and Agatha went to the wardrobe, throwing open the doors. “Should ye like to wear the ivory gown today?”

I nodded, not having much choice. I’d worn the lavender one the day before and I wasn’t quite ready to wear the sheer black. But I would force myself to wear it tonight. When Logan saw me dressed in it, my sex clean of hair, I hoped he’d fall to his knees and press his hot, velvet tongue inside me. I shivered, and rubbed my arms, pretending I was cold and not just full of craving for the laird of this dark castle.