She flinched at my tone, but her jaw rearranged itself in that stubborn way I was already starting to recognize. The vulnerability in her expression morphed into something more familiar. There was the defiance I knew.
But even though I could sense that she wished to say something, no doubt something angry and challenging, she didn’t speak. Maybe it was her nakedness that made her hold her tongue.
Whatever her internal conflict, it could be nothing compared to mine. All I could think as I forced myself to stay completely still was how much I wanted to drop the axe, cross the room, rip the sheet off her naked body, and show her what it meant to be a war bride of the Vandar.
Chapter 17
Jasmine
Climbing into the Raas’s bed had seemed almost reasonable after finishing off the wine and soaking in the green, fizzy water. After I'd soaked in the glorious sunken tub until my fingers pruned and dried myself with a length of smooth linen hanging from a hook, I’d stood naked in his quarters trying to figure out what to do next.
I couldn't put back on my dirty work dress, and the only other clothes in the room belonged to the warlord. Not only would they not fit me, from what I’d seen, the Vandar wore only leather.
So, I'd wrapped myself in the slippery black sheet from his bed, poured another glass of wine for courage, and climbed into the massive bed to wait for him. I'd been trying to arrange myself in what I hoped was a seductive pose when the door had opened.
Then the sheet had slipped, revealing far more skin than I’d planned and making little secret that I was naked underneath. I'd yanked it back up even as my face burned with humiliation, but not before both the Raas and his first officer had gotten an eyeful.
The first officer had fled like the room was on fire, and a part of me wanted to run out fast on his heels.
My heart was thundering so loud it was all I could hear. Well, that and the rushing of blood in my ears. What had I been thinking? I was at his mercy, naked in his bed, with nothing but a sheet and dwindling liquid courage to protect me.
“Explain yourself!"
I flinched at the volume and at the authority in his tone. Then, almost immediately, I got angry. What the hell did he think this was? Was I really so bad at seduction that it wasn't completely obvious what I was doing?
Then something occurred to me that made my stomach roil. Did he just not desire me? Was I so unappealing that even climbing naked into his bed didn’t work? That would be even more humiliating if such a thing was possible. Anger stoked with humiliation burned away some of the embarrassment.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" I snapped, clutching the sheet tighter against my chest. "I'm trying to seduce you!"
He stared at me, his golden eyes wide, but he didn't move toward me. He didn't start removing his armor or crossing the room with predatory intent like the heroes in Brielle's books always did.
He just stood there. I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or insulted.
Then his eyes narrowed. “Why?"
I blinked at him. This wasn't going even remotely like I'd thought it would. Wasn't seduction supposed to be more straightforward? Shouldn’t there be less debate?
I considered trying to use a breathy, girlish voice that Kaya employed when she wanted something from the blacksmith's son. I could probably flutter my eyelashes or say something coy about finding him irresistible.
But the wine had gone to my head, making it harder to think straight, much less seduce. Besides, the shrewd look on his face told me he'd see right through any act.
"I thought this was what you would want," I finally admitted, the words softer than I'd intended.
He emitted an actual, rumbling growl that I felt in my chest, and he raked a hand through the dark hair that now hung loose. "But you do not want this."
It wasn't a question. I suppose I had been pretty outspoken about not giving in to him or being a willing war bride. My abrupt change from defiant captive to seductress must seem completely out of character. Which it was.
"I could want this," I said, but even to my own ears it sounded weak.
He held my gaze for another beat, those golden eyes boring into mine like he could read every thought I'd ever had. Then, unexpectedly, he started to laugh.
The sound was deep and rich, rolling through his chest, and shaking his entire body. He was still chuckling as he bent down and began removing his boots, the heavy armor-clad footwear hitting the floor with solid thuds. Then he started walking toward the bathroom, his hands moving to unhook his battle kilt.
My mouth went dry as the leather waistband dipped to expose a V of muscles below his corded stomach.
"I have no desire to force myself on a female who has had too much wine," he said, his voice still tinged with amusement, "and thinks I would want something not freely given."
The kilt hit the floor.
