To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(31)
“Yes, Kitran, please draw a fresh jug of water for drinking as well.” Graciella rolled out another slab of dumpling dough so she and Wilten could cut more dumplings for the soup.
The kitchen door opened, and Yavi entered. “Hello, Graciella. Hard at work, I see.”
Graciella blushed, not having expected to see him before dinner. Her hair was a jumbled mess pinned carelessly on top of her head, and she was wearing her ugliest plain white muslin dress with a stained apron over the skirt. She curtsied to him lamely. “Hello, Emperor Yavi.”
He came closer to see what she and Wilten were doing, and indicated the bowl of cut dumplings. “What are these?”
“Dumplings, made of dough. I’m making my mother’s recipe for chicken dumpling soup. The chicken and vegetables are cooking in the broth in those kettles.”
He smiled. “It smells wonderful.”
The back door opened, and Kitran came in carrying a large jug of water. She halted when she saw Yavi, then shot a resentful glance at Graciella.
“Kitran, you can just bring the drinking water over here to the worktable, if you please.” Graciella looked at Yavi. “Would you like a cup of water?”
“Yes, that would be most appreciated.” He smiled.
Suddenly a splash of icy-cold water hit Graciella’s face and chest. She yelped, then sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’m so sorry, milady. I tripped,” Kitran explained.
Graciella held her hands out and looked down at her soaked dress. The fabric was clinging to her breasts as if she had nothing on at all.
Wilten quickly grabbed a cloth and tossed it to her, and Graciella pressed it to her chest. “Oh dear, some of it got on the dumplings!”
“I dry dumpling, milady. You go get new dress.” Wilten hurried to the buffet to get another dishcloth.
“Please excuse me, Sire.” Red-faced, Graciella rushed past Yavi and out the door as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.
§
Yavi retreated to his room as well, stalking to the looking-glass over his washstand to splash cold water on his face. His erection pressed against his leather trousers, hard. Three seconds of staring at Graciella’s sweetly full and upturned breasts, taut pink nipples clearly visible against the wet, white muslin, was almost more than he could withstand—oath or no oath.
He turned his back to the washstand and ran an agitated hand through his hair, then went to open a window, welcoming the blast of cold air that hit his face. He peered down at the stables, trying to force his thoughts elsewhere—anywhere but on the arousing outline of her body through that wet dress.
He suspected Kitran had dumped the water on Graciella on purpose, although he wasn’t sure, since he’d already been so distracted by how beautiful Graciella looked to notice what Kitran was doing. Graciella’s normally tidily-twisted bun was all but unraveled, and most of her hair had escaped to fall down her back and over her shoulders. It was longer than he’d realized, too; he’d never seen it down since she’d arrived. Her face was radiant with color from all the steam and heat in the kitchen as she cooked, and she was arm-deep in flour, like the other day. Then, without warning, she was doused in water—no doubt freezing cold from the way her nipples hardened—and he was treated to a glorious view of her delectable body from neckline to waist. He didn’t know whether to scold Kitran or thank her.
The cold air from the open window wasn’t working to soothe his arousal, and neither was his mental replaying of the water incident. He shut the window and paced to his armoire, withdrawing a shirt and a pair of trousers to wear to dinner. He stripped off his leather armor and returned to the washstand to sponge-bathe. He lathered his hands with soap and stroked it onto his swollen, aching shaft, covering the tip with a towel as he climaxed a few moments later.
By the time he dressed for dinner, much to his annoyance, he was already fully erect again. It was going to be a long evening.
§
Graciella stared at her chest in her looking-glass, mortified. Her soaked bodice left nothing, absolutely nothing, to the imagination, and Yavi had definitely had full view of her before Wilten threw her a towel. Her apron and skirt clung awkwardly to her legs, and her hair was drenched as well. Not that it wasn’t already a mess, but now she looked like a shivering, drowned rat. So much for impressing the emperor.
“Kitran wants war?” she muttered to herself in the mirror as she stripped off her apron. “Two can play that game, my little dear.”
She tossed the apron and wet dress to the floor, then threw open the doors to her armoire. She had already worn her new pink gown twice in the three days she’d been there, but she had another that was almost as pretty, a light blue one with a lace-up bodice. She could pull the laces tight to emphasize her waist, and pull her chemise down a bit inside the bodice to emphasize her cleavage. Yes, that should do the trick for tonight’s dinner.
Her hair, on the other hand, was going to take some time to dry so she could re-arrange it on top of her head, and she needed a fire for that, plus dinner preparations weren’t finished downstairs.
She picked up her wet clothing and hung it to dry on the bed posts, then put on her other white muslin gown. She pulled her boots back on and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Wilten was finishing up cutting the dumplings, the chicken soup was boiling nicely, and Kitran was nowhere to be seen.
Good. Less temptation to yank her sleek platinum-blonde hair out of her head.