Cerridwen Press
Quince slipped behind the wooden screen concealing the bathtub from the rest of the chamber. His mouth went dry. Sande was nude, her back to him, the water covering her to her shoulders. Her hair was piled on top her head and thoroughly sudsed. In the moon-washed chamber, her skin appeared creamy, like the inner flesh of a snow apple. Her neck arced in an irresistible long line. His fingers itched to trace the curve of her skin, where her neck met her shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if she was more than human, a creature sent by the gods to test him.
He almost left.
Then Sande held out a hand and it became obvious her eyes were tightly shut.
Quince crept to the tub and slowly began to pour the water over her hair.
Sande sighed and dropped her hand, working her hair under the water. “Again, my deepest thanks, Cydell.”
Her fingers were long and slim, pale against the dark silkiness of her hair. He was mesmerized by their movements. She re-piled her hair atop her head and reached for a towel. Her hand searched for the pile of towels, propped on the table beside the tub.
She tipped her head to the side. “Cydell? Are you still there?” Now she sounded uncertain. She glanced over her shoulder, one eye open, one squinted shut.
Quince put a hand over her mouth before she could scream. He bent over the tub, close to her ear. “Quiet now, Cydell sleeps.”
She bit into the palm of his hand. He winced and drew back.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“You asked for water,” he said simply.
“I asked for Cydell.” She folded her other arm across her still hidden breasts.
“She is asleep.”
She gave him a penetrating look, enough to make a lesser person squirm.
He shrugged, grasped a towel and offered it to her.
Her moth dropped open. “How dare you!” She was gorgeous in her indignation. A few tendrils of hair slipped from the bundle of her hair, framing her face. He wanted to kiss those outraged lips.
“There is an attraction between us, lady, and I intend to see it to its end.” He would not waste any more waking moments pining for her body.
“This is madness,” she stuttered.
“It is indeed,” he agreed, then surprised them both by reaching into the soapy water, seizing her around the waist, and pulling her out. She slapped at his hands, wriggling in his grasp. He lifted her out the rest of the way and slung her, sky clad, over his shoulder.
She beat on his back with her fists. “Put me down.”
He patted her bare bottom. “Shortly.”
She cursed at him. He tried not to chuckle at her inventiveness. She stilled when they passed Cydell’s still sleeping form. Then they were in his chamber.
His body thrummed. He could feel the heat of her through his now drenched shirt.
Her fingers scrabbled along his backside and he reveled in her exploration. Until she seized upon a loose seam and began ripping his shirt up the back.
“You will be the one mending it,” he said mildly.
“Like hellfire.” She dug her nails into his bare back.
He yipped softly and flung her onto his bed.
She glowered back at him through her tangled hair, then seized an edge of the comforter and folded it over her naked body.
This was a dangerous side of him she’d not seen before. Her breath hitched. She was acutely aware that she was naked. His scent lingered in the folds of his bed, making her uncomfortably conscious of her location as well. His gaze roved the length of her body, then to her face. She felt herself flush.
She extended a bare arm and pointed her finger at the door. “You will leave while I dress.”
“I do not want you clothed.”
His dark hair was mussed and his clothes soaked. He looked like a sorry wet fool, until his eyes gleamed, sparks of fire in their depths. Then she shivered. He wasn’t human and nor were his needs. She bit her lip, trying to focus on a point on his chest. She would not look into those eyes. Not again. She could not bare to see the reflection of her own needs in their depths.
She wasn’t human either. And she had much the same needs.
She found her voice. “Well then, we have a dilemma.”
His lips quirked. “I see none. You are nude and in my bed.”
“By force!”
“If you do not wish to remain here, just walk away. I will not stop you.”
She sat up, comforter clutched to her chest. “Thank you for recovering your manners.” Her breasts ached for his touch, longed for those amused lips to kiss a path over her body. She was stirring herself up for nothing, she reminded herself. He would have her when she was ready for him. Oh lords, how her body hummed. The broad expanse of his muscled back she’d seen just before she clawed him would haunt her the rest of the night. She swung her feet over the side of the bed.
“The bed clothes stay.”
“What?”
A smile played at his lips. “The bed clothes are mine.”
“Very well then.” Two could play at his game. Why should she be the only frustrated one going to bed alone? She mustered up every bit of courage she owned. Shaking her hair over her shoulder, she dropped the comforter as she stood, her back to him.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Have a restful evening, my lord.”
The shock and lust warring on his faced made her waver. Perhaps she’d pushed him too far. She swallowed the rising lump in her throat, raised her chin, and marched toward the servants’ quarters. She made it only two strides before he tackled her.
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