The Spymaster's Protection (41 page)

“Maybe,” she teased as she caught his hand and laced her
fingers through his. “I actually have your bath all planned out.”

“Sounds intriguing!” His husky laugh sent shivers down her
spine.

“Come then, sir, and discover what wicked delights I have in
store for you.”

The bathing chamber that connected her room with his had a
stone latticed window high above it that let in light and air. The water in the
small circular pool was hot, and steam wafted off of it to rise and drift
through the lacy grillwork. Gabrielle had poured almond oil in the water, plus
a bit of lemon oil. The fragrant scent filled the room, teasing the senses.

“Something tells me these rooms mimic the chambers of a
harem,” Lucien speculated as he sat down on a marble bench to take off his
boots.

“Not necessarily. I was in one of those rooms at the citadel
in Damascus. It was much more decadent. Have you ever been in one, sir?”

“Aw, a question filled with danger, mi’lady,” he evaded. “What
stalwart Templar would ever be caught in a harem chamber?”

“One who worked undercover?”

“God surely would have struck me down if I was ever caught in
such a den of iniquity.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and let the subject drop. She knew
he had been with other women. He was too skilled at making love to have been a
monk who had never strayed from his vows of chastity. And it couldn’t have come
from his youth. He’d told her he had been very young when he had been adopted
by the Order and brought to live in one of their preceptories in Iberia. Even
then, they would have allowed him little freedom. But then maybe there hadn’t
been many women, just one or two who had tutored him well.

But it didn’t really matter whether he’d been in a harem or
not, or how many women he’d been with. He was hers now, and she knew he loved
her devotedly.

“Let me help you with your clothing,” she said as she knelt in
front of him and tugged off his dusty boots.

When she rose to her feet again, she grasped the ends of his
tunic on the way up and pulled the cotton over his head. She repeated the
action with his gauze undershirt, then proceeded to unknot the drawstring on
his loose trousers. Her nimble fingers worked quickly and efficiently, and then
she began on his linen drawers.

“You are getting very proficient at undressing me,” he
murmured into her unbound hair as he nuzzled it aside to trace the shape of her
earlobe with the tip of his tongue.

Beneath her fingers, she felt the thrust of his erection. Her
breathing quickened, as did her heartbeat. When he was finally free of his
braies, he stepped out of them gloriously naked. Gabrielle could not halt the
small involuntary sound that escaped as she stared at him in all of his
unclothed masculine beauty. He was simply magnificent!

“Your turn,” he rasped as he reached for the tie on her belted
robe. It took only a moment to disrobe her. After hanging her garment on a peg,
he turned back around. “Too beautiful for words,” he told her, his heated gaze
sweeping her naked form from head to toe.

They stepped into the pool together, each sighing
appreciatively as they sank into the hot water.

“I took only a sponge bath the first time. This is indeed
heavenly,” Gabrielle purred as Lucien slid his arm around her and pulled her to
sit beside him on the underwater ledge.

After a few minutes of simply luxuriating in the heat, they
turned to one another and began soaping each other. The scent of almonds, with
a trace of lemon, wafted in the steam as Gabrielle washed and gently massaged
Lucien’s scalp and hair. With him facing away from her, she pressed her soapy
breasts against his wide muscular back, rubbing little circles that aroused her
as much as it did him while she rinsed the long black strands free of suds.

By the time she finally finished, he was growling deep in his
throat, sounding like a big well-pleasured cat. He swiveled around and pulled
her onto his lap, kissing her as he ran his soapy sea sponge intimately over
her upper body, caressing every curve and hollow and peak. Gabrielle lifted her
sponge to his shoulders and neck while her fingertips stroked the line of his
bearded jaw. It was a sensuous experience, lathering one another, arousing each
another slowly and tantalizingly, lingering in all the right places.

Gabrielle laughed when Lucien grasped her foot from under the
soapy water and proceeded to wash each toe and each space in between. When the
sponge glided over her insole, it tickled her so much she shrieked and begged
for mercy. Lucien simply searched for her other foot and proceeded to do the
same thing to it.

Delighted with her pleas for mercy, he went in search of other
places where she was ticklish. Soon water and suds were flowing over the sides
of the pool, and Gabrielle’s long hair was as wet as Lucien’s. When he finally
took mercy on her, she was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her
cheeks. In response, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was
breathless with passion instead of laughter.

Pushing her fingers into his long hair, she
arched
against his lower body and hooked one slick leg over
his hip. “Are we clean yet?”

Lucien could only nod. She was so beautiful, she left him
speechless! With her hair slicked back from her exquisitely sculpted face, he could
see every nuance of expression. Her deep blue eyes were alive with passion and
love as she held his gaze.

“I have something else planned for you, sir,” she told him as
she slid off his slippery body and stepped out of the bubbling water like a
nymph coming out of the deep. “Let me dry you.” Her hand reached down to his,
her fingers weaving through his as he stepped from the bathwater.

He followed without the slightest desire to resist, then
closed his eyes as she moved all around him, toweling him dry with one of the
thick cotton sheets left beside the pool. Wordlessly, he let her linger over
every bulge and dip, eyeing her with a bit of disappointment when she wrapped
another towel around herself, then turned him toward a corner of the bathroom.

He had a strong urge to strip her towel from her, scoop her up
in his arms, and carry her into the bedroom, but he could see she had planned
all of this for him and he didn’t want to disappoint her. Steeling himself against
the desire throbbing through his veins, he let her guide him to a long padded
marble bench.

“This is my gift to you so that as you prepare for battle, you
will have something pleasant to think upon.” After she directed him to lie down
on the bench on his stomach, she picked up a bottle of oil. “Did you know,” she
asked as she poured some into her hands and rubbed them together to warm it,
“that in some cultures a woman sends her man off to battle bathed and oiled, so
that he will be anointed with the strength of love before he faces his
enemies?”

The scent of almonds filled his nostrils as her oil slick
hands glided over his shoulder blades, kneading and pressing into the muscle
with gentle strength, her fingertips finding every tired tendon and sore joint.
“I read that in a book I stole from Reynald after one of his raids.” The heels
of her hands glided down his spine, from his neck to the small of his back,
then up again. “I stole all kinds of wonderful books from wagonloads of
plundered goods. One of his slaves taught me to read Arabic and even a little
Egyptian hieroglyphics.”

Lucien sighed as she needed a particularly sore spot. “Did he
ever find out what you were doing?”

“No.” A short laugh accompanied her response. “He can’t read,
and I don’t think he ever even knew they were missing. To him, books were of no
value unless they were etched in gold.”

Gabrielle smoothed open palms over the bronze skin of his
muscled back. There were still a few small scars, but for the most part all
evidence of the cane that had been applied to his upper back in the Damascus
prison was gone. “Your injuries are nearly healed. Saladin’s doctors tended you
well.” Caressing the scar tissue, she bent down to place kisses on each one. “I
think Bathsheba must have done this for David.” She kissed the side of his
neck, whispering her love, inhaling the rich scent of almonds. “What think you,
Sir Lucien?”

He noticed she liked to call him by his new designation. “I
think he would have been a lion in battle if she had.” Half-turning, he grasped
the back of her neck and pulled her head down for a fiercely hungry kiss. “And
I think you are my little temptress.”

“And, not done with you yet!” Gabrielle laughed as she pulled
away from his hands and mouth.

Lucien groaned and shifted as his cock stiffened and
lengthened.

Gabrielle poured more almond oil into her hands and moved down
the bench to his lower body. Placing her hands on the back of his waist, she
traveled to his buttocks and began kneading both cheeks at once. When he
groaned yet again and began to push up on his forearms, she pressed him back
down and moved to the backs of his thickly muscled thighs. She lingered there
but a short while before she moved on to his rock hard calves, suspecting that
was not the only thing that was rock hard at the moment. Finally, she massaged
his feet, rubbing deeply over his arches with the pads of her thumbs.

When she began the sensual assault back up his legs again,
Lucien growled and flipped over. “You’re driving me mad, Gabi!” he announced in
a raspy edgy voice.

“But I’m not finished!” she protested, holding up the bottle
of oil. “I still need to massage your….”

“No, you don’t, and it is my turn, lady.” The determination in
his glittering brown eyes promised full retribution and untold pleasure. He
grabbed the slick bottle of oil from her and ripped her towel off in one smooth
move. “Now, lie down, on your stomach.”

Gabrielle finally settled onto the padded marble bench,
resting her head on her folded arms. There was a thick cotton sheet beneath
her, over the cushions, and it smelled deliciously of almonds, with a faint
touch of lemon from their bath.

“Four days in the saddle can make the backside stiff and
sore,” Lucien said as he poured oil into his hands.

Gabrielle eyed him over her shoulder dubiously.

“Your massage felt wonderful. Now, tell me if I do as well.”

His big hands spanned her upper back, thumb to thumb. He slid
them slowly upwards and kneaded the skin between her shoulders and neck first,
then eased unhurriedly back down, pressing his thumbs into the muscles on
either side of her spine.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and moaned softly, it felt so good.
As a reward, he repeated the motion several more times.

“There is another part of the body that might be sore from
four days on horseback, especially for someone not used to long hours in the
saddle.”

“Ummm.” She was so relaxed, his words barely registered. It
wasn’t until he reached that particular body part that she realized what he had
meant.

His long fingers and broad palms were slick with oil and
curved themselves perfectly to each cheek of her bottom. In dual motion, they
kneaded
, rubbed, and squeezed. Gabrielle’s initial response
was a shocked squeak, then for just a brief moment, fear gripped her.
Thankfully, reason quickly overrode it. Lucien was nothing, nothing at all like
Reynald, and she had no reason to fear anything he did. Closing her eyes. she
relaxed again.

But feelings of relaxation quickly faded into an insidious
honey-like warmth that spread to her loins, flooding her woman’s channel with a
throbbing wet heat. Little whimpers of arousal erupted from her throat. Unable
to wait another moment for the press of his big body, she rolled over onto her
back and reached for him, his name forming on her lips in a whispered plea.

Lucien lifted her to her feet with a husky growl, then sat on
the edge of the marble bench and pulled her between his thighs. Their positions
reversed, he caught her around the waist and opened his mouth over her breast,
suckling it with a strong pulling motion that left Gabrielle limpid in his
loose embrace.

“Lemons and almonds,” he murmured thickly. “Dear God, Gabi! I
want you!”

“Lucien.” Her head dropped back on her shoulders and her wet
hair tickled the backs of her knees. Her arms had already risen to his neck and
shoulders, seeking something to hang onto as her world began to spin dizzily.

His tongue swirled around the crest of each breast, outlining
the peaks with the tip, then licking each one with a broad sweep of his tongue
while his hands drifted from her waist to her bottom. In the next instant, he
lifted her onto his lap, spreading her legs to rest on his thighs.

She had long ago felt the thick evidence of his desire for her
pressing against her belly. How he had endured this long was a mystery to her.
Admiring his stamina, she felt him slip one hand between them, take himself in
hand, and position the swollen velvety length of him at the entrance to her
slickly oiled sheath. Then he lifted his mouth to hers, and buried himself as
deeply inside of her as he could.

The thrust of his tongue matched the thrusting motion of his
lower body. Gabrielle arched upwards in a cry of ecstasy and squeezed him as
tightly as she could. This was where he belonged, she thought desperately as
she clung with all her strength to him.

With his hands gripping her hips, then her buttocks, Lucien
lifted her and brought her back down onto himself over and over. His hand moved
to stroke her petal soft folds, his finger unerringly finding that little spot
that would drive her over the edge. Over and over, he pleasured her, kissing
her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, filling her, loving her, until she
thought she might melt away into a puddle of the oil that slicked their bodies.

Dear God, she loved him so much! He was everything to her.
Everything! The desire to never let him go made her clutch him tightly; made
her a little crazy. Straining against him, she cried out as her climax rose
like a crescendo.