held hers. “Not so fast, damsel. I would enjoy this moment. It has been a long time since one so fair as you has rinsed the stench of battle from my body.”
Isabel lowered her eyes. His intense gaze discomfited her. “I have matters that need my attention,” she softly said.
He raised her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at him. “The only matter you need to see to is me. Should you make haste, I will have you repeat the bath until I am satisfied.”
Isabel bit back an angry retort but made no move to continue the chore. His fingers tightened around her wrist, and he pulled her toward him. She resisted, but he pulled harder until she was leaning across the tub nearly in his lap. Her breasts dipped into the warm water. She recoiled, knowing the wetness would show every detail of the swell of her bosom. He pulled her closer so that now to gain balance, she had to rest her left hand on the edge of the tub. His lips hovered only inches from hers. His warm breath caressed her cheek. “I own you, damsel.”
“Nay,” she murmured, their breaths mingling.
He trailed a wet fingertip across the high swell of her breasts. Her body shivered at the touch. Heat rose in her cheeks.
“Aye, I do, and you would do well to know it.” He pressed his open palm to her left breast and softly squeezed. She closed her eyes as shame flooded her. But worse than that, in the very deepest recesses of her body, a spark of pleasure ignited between her thighs. The sensation was foreign, yet it intrigued her more than she would ever admit. Confusion reigned in her head. Arlys had touched her thus, and she had felt nothing but irritated. His kisses left her cold. Yet he was gentle. Not like this barbarian.
“Not only are you a murderer, but you are not a man of his oath.”
Rohan would not be waylaid. “Your mocking words do not affect me, damsel. I will do as I please. And at the moment”—he pressed his lips to her throat and pulled her closer, as she stiffened, bracing her arm against the pull of him—“you please me.”
“You gave me your word. You would leave me intact,” she breathed, trying hard to ignore the way his lips branded her skin and the warm flush cascading through her because of it.
“Aye, I gave you my word not to take your maidenhead.” He pulled back from her, and his tawny eyes sparkled. Isabel shivered. He was going to trick her. “But you swore before my men and your people to allow me to explore what lies beneath your gown. And there is more than your maidenhead at stake.”
Isabel cried out and pushed back, shoving the linen into his face. He sputtered as the soap burned his eyes. She scurried to the door, intending to leave the chamber, but his harsh words stopped her. “Break your oath to me, Isabel, and see mine broken as well.” He grabbed the pitcher of rinsing water from the bench and poured some over his face. When he opened his eyes, they were red, but she could see he was free of pain. “Now, get thee back here and complete my bath.”
Isabel knew a deep-seated anger she had never felt toward another human being. Not even Arlys’s treacherous cousin Deidre, who took every opportunity to flirt with another’s intended.
Isabel set her jaw and returned to the task. She ignored the smooth thickness of Rohan’s muscular chest and the way his arms rippled with strength when he brushed back his thick raven-colored hair from his face. She tried to forget the odd sensations his touch stirred. She set her mind instead on the matter at hand. Show a guest, albeit an unwelcome one, the hospitality decorum dictated, then be gone from the room.
“How is it that such a removed shire is so rich in population and appointments?” Rohan asked.
Glad for conversation that did not center on her or their respective oaths, Isabel eagerly answered. “The population has dwindled since the landing of your duke. But the land is fertile, the rivers require tolls to pass, and they teem with fish. My
Isabel lowered her eyes. His intense gaze discomfited her. “I have matters that need my attention,” she softly said.
He raised her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at him. “The only matter you need to see to is me. Should you make haste, I will have you repeat the bath until I am satisfied.”
Isabel bit back an angry retort but made no move to continue the chore. His fingers tightened around her wrist, and he pulled her toward him. She resisted, but he pulled harder until she was leaning across the tub nearly in his lap. Her breasts dipped into the warm water. She recoiled, knowing the wetness would show every detail of the swell of her bosom. He pulled her closer so that now to gain balance, she had to rest her left hand on the edge of the tub. His lips hovered only inches from hers. His warm breath caressed her cheek. “I own you, damsel.”
“Nay,” she murmured, their breaths mingling.
He trailed a wet fingertip across the high swell of her breasts. Her body shivered at the touch. Heat rose in her cheeks.
“Aye, I do, and you would do well to know it.” He pressed his open palm to her left breast and softly squeezed. She closed her eyes as shame flooded her. But worse than that, in the very deepest recesses of her body, a spark of pleasure ignited between her thighs. The sensation was foreign, yet it intrigued her more than she would ever admit. Confusion reigned in her head. Arlys had touched her thus, and she had felt nothing but irritated. His kisses left her cold. Yet he was gentle. Not like this barbarian.
“Not only are you a murderer, but you are not a man of his oath.”
Rohan would not be waylaid. “Your mocking words do not affect me, damsel. I will do as I please. And at the moment”—he pressed his lips to her throat and pulled her closer, as she stiffened, bracing her arm against the pull of him—“you please me.”
“You gave me your word. You would leave me intact,” she breathed, trying hard to ignore the way his lips branded her skin and the warm flush cascading through her because of it.
“Aye, I gave you my word not to take your maidenhead.” He pulled back from her, and his tawny eyes sparkled. Isabel shivered. He was going to trick her. “But you swore before my men and your people to allow me to explore what lies beneath your gown. And there is more than your maidenhead at stake.”
Isabel cried out and pushed back, shoving the linen into his face. He sputtered as the soap burned his eyes. She scurried to the door, intending to leave the chamber, but his harsh words stopped her. “Break your oath to me, Isabel, and see mine broken as well.” He grabbed the pitcher of rinsing water from the bench and poured some over his face. When he opened his eyes, they were red, but she could see he was free of pain. “Now, get thee back here and complete my bath.”
Isabel knew a deep-seated anger she had never felt toward another human being. Not even Arlys’s treacherous cousin Deidre, who took every opportunity to flirt with another’s intended.
Isabel set her jaw and returned to the task. She ignored the smooth thickness of Rohan’s muscular chest and the way his arms rippled with strength when he brushed back his thick raven-colored hair from his face. She tried to forget the odd sensations his touch stirred. She set her mind instead on the matter at hand. Show a guest, albeit an unwelcome one, the hospitality decorum dictated, then be gone from the room.
“How is it that such a removed shire is so rich in population and appointments?” Rohan asked.
Glad for conversation that did not center on her or their respective oaths, Isabel eagerly answered. “The population has dwindled since the landing of your duke. But the land is fertile, the rivers require tolls to pass, and they teem with fish. My
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