Improper Seduction (6 page)

More heat surfaced in her face. She glided toward him, reaching for the soap neatly laid out next to the tub. Bathing guests was a tradition because keeping fleas out of the house was a Herculean task that fell to the women. It was easier to control the pestilence by seeing to the scrubbing of all their guests.

She had assisted her mother many times, but today she paused before beginning the task in front of her. Touching
Curan, even the idea of it, still caused a quaking inside her. Sending her hand along his shoulder, she hoped that the first contact might banish the anticipation, but it did not. Instead, she had to tighten her fingers on the soap to maintain her grasp on the slippery bar. A faint hint of rosemary arose from it. He leaned forward to allow her to wash more of his back.

Marie’s lessons suddenly surfaced above the strange quivering inside her, capturing most of her attention. The courtesan had never rushed. Drawing a deep breath, Bridget slowed her own motions, taking more time to smooth the soap across his shoulder blades. She made several lazy passes, making sure to work up a good lather before setting the bar aside and taking up a cloth. Even through the fabric, she felt the heat of his body. Her fingertips suddenly became more sensitive. They wanted to discover what he felt like when there was nothing between them at all.

Soon enough …

It was stunning how quickly her body responded to that idea. A flush of heat poured over her. No hint of night chill was left anywhere on her body. She was warm from head to toe, even longing to remove her outer dress.

“I enjoy your hands on me, Bridget.”

She fumbled the cloth, tightening her fingers to keep it in her grasp. A tiny gasp crossed her lips, and she looked at him to judge if he had heard it. There was no way to tell from the back of him. He stretched his hands out to the foot of the tub so that she might reach all the way down to his lower back.

“I believe I shall take to bathing twice a day.”

His words were arrogant, but her temper did not flare up. Instead her attention was captured by the hint of huskiness in his tone. She had heard it in Tomas’s voice, too. That bit of knowledge filled her with confidence. It was an odd feeling that combined with the quiver that touching him produced.
She leaned over to work the cloth down his spine, and her senses filled with the scent of his skin.

It was dark and very male. What surprised her was the way she enjoyed it. Her nipples hardened even further. They ached behind her stays. Only this time she knew exactly what the little points craved.

The touch of his lips against them.

She trembled and hurried through the last few motions of washing his back. Becoming prey to lust would not assist her. She longed to have that last lesson with Marie. Maybe the courtesan would have given her instructions that would have enabled her to control her responses.

But that was not to be. So she reached for a small jug and pushed it beneath the surface of the water to fill it. Curan made a soft sound of enjoyment when she poured it over his back to rinse the soap away.

“Now my hair.”

He remained in place, with his head bent over the water.

You have washed many a head of hair, you ninny …

Not on a man she longed to touch, however. After pouring more water over his head, she set the jug aside. Her heart seemed to be working faster than it should be. Her breaths came in short gasps, too. Anticipation twisted in her belly so tight, she felt as if it would snap her in two.

“Come, Bridget, I believe you said you were not timid.”

His tone was still husky, but the mocking amusement mixed with it did stoke her temper. The flames burned away enough of her unsteadiness to allow her command of her hands.

“I did not realize you were in a hurry, my lord. Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.” Her voice was perfectly mild and polite. A true credit to every tutor her parents had paid to instruct her. She might have been talking about the laundry for all the emotion in her tone. If he wanted to treat
her like a toy, she would give him the personality of a wooden top.

His face turned in an instant, his dark eyes stabbing into hers. He captured her hands that were reaching for his hair. His fingers curled easily all the way around her wrists to clamp them in a grip that felt like steel. Hunger danced in his eyes. And he tensed, as though he were going to rise. Her breath caught in her throat while she waited to see what he would do.

“I suppose toying with you means that I deserve the same in return.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

His lips pressed into a hard line while he considered her.

“Maybe not. Then again, maybe you are an accomplished female when it comes to twisting men.”

She dropped the soap. It sent water splashing up into his face. He shut his eyes quickly to avoid having the strong lye soap burn them. Any other time she would have been mortified to cause such concern to a guest. Yet for the moment, she was quite pleased.

“I have done no practicing on any men. I have never even bathed one before without my mother present, sir. You are the one who bid me enter else wear the title of timid.”

He released her wrists and drew his forearm across his face. But when he opened his eyes they glittered with amusement. A soft male chuckle filled the chamber.

“I suppose I have been in the company of men too long and forgotten that women do not enjoy being teased. Still, I find your tenacity enjoyable.”

“You were being insulting, my lord.”

He laughed at her words. This time it was a full sound of amusement. One hand disappeared into the water and retrieved the bar of soap.

“Possibly. Maybe I was merely admitting that having your hands on me twists my emotions.”

She almost dropped the soap again. Something crossed his face that fascinated her, something hard and hungry. The quiver inside her responded to it and increased tenfold.

He looked down again, but the hands that rested on the edge of the tub were gripping it. She stared at the white knuckles for a moment before drawing a deep breath. So strange. Yet so intoxicating. Reaching over the edge of the tub, she began washing his hair. It was silky-soft and thick. She had to work the soap into a lather and curl her hands to find his scalp. When she poured water over his head to rinse it, he shook like a large hunting hound. He scraped a hand down his face and opened his eyes before she had time to reach for a dry cloth for him.

His face reflected his dislike of being blind. That made sense. A man such as he most likely did not allow his guard down very often. He took the cloth from her hands anyway and dried his face with it. But when he pulled it away from his face, his lips were sitting in a mocking grin.

A second later he stood up. Water ran down his body, glistening in the firelight and turning him crimson. She couldn’t keep her gaze from tracing his long legs or from looking at his cock. It stood tall and proud, thicker than Tomas’s and longer, too.

“Aren’t you going to wash the rest of me, Bridget?”

He was toying with her again. She raised her eyes to his, determination making her bold.

“It is a truth that I have never washed the front of a male guest. My mother would never allow such. Yet who am I to argue with a baron?”

She picked up the cloth and swiped the soap across it with a quick stroke. His forehead furrowed when she extended her
hand toward him. But she did not aim for his cock. Marie’s slow motions sprang to mind. She slid the cloth over his thigh, making sure to wash all of it from his hip to his knee. His leg was just as hard as his back, her fingertips communicating how solid he was. Even with her eyelids lowered and her gaze focused on his thigh she caught glimpses of his cock. She simply could not prevent herself from stealing quick looks at his manhood. The thing seemed to swell and grow larger while she worked.

Dunking the cloth in the water, she then applied more soap to it before washing his opposite leg. She refused to look up to see what he thought of her actions. There was the chance that he might consider her glance a plea for reprieve. Her pride forbade her to do anything that might be interpreted in such a way.

Washing his other thigh seemed to take only half the time. She was too aware of what stood between them. That hard flesh was the only thing left to wash. Maintaining her grip on the cloth, she slid it along his inner thigh. Higher and higher until she cupped the twin sacs hanging below his staff. He shuddered. Just a tiny amount, but she saw his powerful legs move. It restored her confidence. She gently rubbed those sacs before gliding the washcloth along the length of his erect flesh.

“You have made your point, Bridget.”

He sat down too quickly. Water sloshed over the edges of the tub. She sprang away, but was too slow; water soaked into her skirts. She landed on her bottom in a pile of wool while the water made it all the way to her legs.

But the scowl on his face made it worth getting wet. He glared at her, his fingers rubbing against one another.

“I don’t know what point you mean. Unless it is that I am bendable to your will.”

Pushing her feet beneath her, she rose. Her wet skirt stuck to her legs and pulled down on her waist. It made the fabric too long in front, so she grasped a handful of fabric and pulled it up.

“I would not say bendable. ‘Tis more like you are challenged by my demands.”

She looked down to avoid his seeing how much pleasure his words gave her. He sounded too pleased by far. Like a boy who had discovered a new game where he could be the victor. Yet she was pleased. There was no denying that she enjoyed knowing that he did not find her meek. If that was a sin, she was guilty.

“Since you have aided me so sweetly, I believe I shall return the favor.”

Her head jerked up to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?” She sounded too breathless. Swallowing hard, she tried to force her nervousness down where it would not be so noticeable.

He pointed at the drying rack. “You came to bathe. A rather good idea since we are to take to the road on the morrow.” His lips resumed that mocking grin she detested. “I will remain and wash your back.”

“That is not the custom.”

His grin faded. “Neither is departing for London to wed another when you have already had the blessing of the church given to you to wed with me.”

“You may say that as often as you like, and still I will not change my response to you, Lord Ryppon. I am not ashamed of being obedient to my father’s will. He is the one who commanded me to kneel beside you.”

His face was set into a disapproving mask, but it suddenly broke when he chuckled. “I am pleasantly surprised by how much courage you have, Bridget.”

It was a compliment. She turned and busied herself with taking the used washcloth to the basket for soiled linens. She heard the water swish behind her and his wet feet connecting with the floor. He must have tugged the little cork stopper from the bottom of the tub, because the sound of rushing water filled the chamber. Gravity took the water away from the tub through a hole in the stone floor that led to a carefully maintained gutter beneath the house. Such a design allowed for bathing year-round and was a sign of the more modern construction of the estate. The bathing chamber had only been added a few years ago after her father had seen one at the palace. He’d had to bribe the royal guards to get a look at the king’s newest comfort, but he’d declared it well worth every bit of silver to not suffer stinking during the winter.

She felt a prickle along her nape and looked up to discover Curan within arm’s reach. He moved quickly for so large a man, a length of toweling wrapped around his waist now, but the fabric was wet and lying over the hard shape of his erection.

“I am grateful that you respected your father’s wishes to wed me.”

“We are not completely wed.”

He reached past her and picked up his britches. “Then why did you just stroke my cock?”

He whispered the words, but that did not lessen their impact.

“You should not say such things.”

His hand reached out and captured her upper arm. A moment later she was pressed against him with a hard arm securing her around her waist.

“I enjoyed it.”

Three words had never sounded so enticing before.

She was captivated by the sound of his voice and the flicker of hunger in his eyes. The hands that she’d laid on his chest to push him back flattened. Her fingers spread wide in enjoyment. His skin was warm and his flesh firm beneath her hands. It was a delight for the senses. Pleasure began seeping past her temper. The sweet sensation produced by their skin meeting swiftly became more important than whatever had upset her.

“And now I wish to see you enjoy my touch.”

He angled his head and pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. She sprang away from it, using her hands to push him back, a soft growl her response. A moment later the arm around her waist slipped right up her back, pulling her toward him again. His other arm encircled her waist, and her hands became trapped between them.

“Accept my kiss, Bridget. It is my right to taste you.”

It was a command, one given in a husky tone. He didn’t wait for her to agree, his lips pressing against hers in a hard kiss that demanded compliance. But it was not unpleasant. Her lips tingled and her belly tightened. He slipped his lips across hers, teasing the tender skin with his own. Pleasure rippled through her when he took instant advantage of her open mouth, the tip of his tongue sweeping along her lower lip before venturing inside her mouth. A soft sound issued from her, but she wasn’t sure if it was distress or delight. She shivered in his embrace, her body twisting as she became overwhelmed by too much sensation. His tongue boldly penetrated her mouth, stabbing deep inside to stroke her own. The feeling was too much to understand. She struggled to pull her lips away from his only to hear her own breath gasping when she succeeded. Her hands strained to push him away. Her strength was nothing compared to his. One of his hands cupped her nape and turned her to face him.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t seem to resist. Even as her body burned with a multitude of impulses, she was eager to look into his eyes. Drawn there for some reason. The hold on her neck became tender, his fingers stroking the soft skin beneath her braid.