Bride for a Night(142)

“Your vanity has no need of my pandering.”

“You are quite mistaken, my dear,” he growled. “I am in dire need of pandering.”

With a last attempt at sanity, she forced herself to step back.

“Get in the tub before the water grows cold.”

He brushed his mouth along the line of her jaw. “As you command, my dear.”

Steam rose from the water as he climbed into the tub, his long legs sprawled over the edge and arms set along the curled rim.

Before she could lose her nerve, Talia knelt beside the tub and reached for the cake of soap that had been left in a pewter dish on the floor. Dipping it into the water, she hesitantly smoothed it along the strong line of his shoulder.


Gabriel groaned his approval, allowing his head to rest on the back of the tub and his eyes to slide shut.

Without his piercing silver gaze to watch her every movement, Talia felt her awkwardness ease, and her touch became bolder as she soaped the strong column of his neck and then the width of his chest.

He was astonishingly…hard, she realized as his well-toned muscles rippled beneath her touch. Although Gabriel had never been one of the effeminate dandies that pranced about London, his graceful movements and elegant attire had disguised the sheer strength of his body.

Her blood heated as she soaped his broad chest and felt his heart racing as she sensuously stroked his slick skin. In this moment she was in command of this dance of seduction, and she was heady with the rare sense of power.

She turned her attention to his nearest arm when a wave caught the yacht and water splashed from the tub onto the floor. Talia hastily began to rise, only to be halted when his fingers encircled her wrist, and his lashes lifted to reveal a smoldering heat in the depths of his silver eyes.

“Paradise,” he murmured. “I could become accustomed to having you play handmaiden.” His gaze lowered to the lace that did little to hide the low scoop of her bodice. “Of course, you would have need of proper attire.”

Talia sucked in a deep breath, acutely aware that her nipples were hardening beneath his heated gaze.

“Proper attire?” she croaked.

“Hmm.” His thumb stroked her inner wrist, no doubt able to feel the rapid beat of her pulse. “Perhaps a pair of those gauzy harem pants that are preferred by the sultans.”

She narrowed her gaze. For all her enjoyment in playing the role of handmaiden, she would be damned if she would dress as a concubine.

“You attempt to put me in harem pants and I will drown you,” she warned.

He chuckled, his gaze flicking over her flushed cheek. “Do you oppose the notion because you are a prude or because you possess the heart of a bluestocking?”

She stilled, meeting his amused gaze with a somber expression.

“Would it trouble you if I were a bluestocking?”

He lifted a brow. “The truth?”

She gave a slow nod, attempting to hide just how much his answer meant to her.

“Yes.”

He moved forward to press a kiss to her startled lips.

“I find the thought of a clever, well-educated woman who possesses the heart of a warrior and the lush temptation of a gypsy unbearably erotic,” he said lowly.

Her heart melted. It was, of course, the perfect response.

“You do?”

“If you have need of proof…”

With a tug on her wrist, Gabriel lowered her hand beneath the water and urged her fingers to wrap around his thick arousal.

“Oh.”

He hissed out a raw breath of pleasure, a shudder rippling through his body as he surged upright and out of the tub. Talia barely managed to straighten before his arms were wrapped around her waist, and she was being maneuvered toward the edge of the cabin.