Page 108 of A Tale of Two Vikings

“Because you are dirty, and I would wash you.”

She stifled a groan. She was no longer dirty, of course.

While she hesitated, he took off his belt and drew his tunic over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. He was not muddy, except for his braies. Why was he removing…oh.

He made a peremptory motion of his hands that she should kneel. She did so, but she scrunched her eyes closed tight.

“Open your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking why all the time. Just accept that I know what I’m doing.”

She opened her eyes and gave him a look that said it was questionable, but before she could voice that thought, her tongue froze in her mouth. He was soaping his hands. Both of them. A lot. And she knew just where he planned to place those hands, because that’s where he was staring.

When his hands were slick with soap he spread them over her breasts, first in wide circles which got smaller and smaller till he worked her nipples into hard peaks. She wanted to beg him to stop. She wanted to beg him to never stop.

“You have beautiful breasts, Esme.”

Am I supposed to react to that? I do not care that he admires my breasts. I do not care that he makes them ache deliciously. I do not care that his fingers weave magic.

“Would you like me to suckle them?”

“Whaaat?” Where did that question come from? “Nay, I don’t want you to…to…do that.”

He had already moved his hands to her arms, which he soaped, even the armpits, and her shoulders. Then he ladled clean, warm water over her and said, “Now stand.”

She was about to ask why, but bit her bottom lip to stop herself. She knew why. “If I asked you to take pity and spare me this indignity, would you?”

“Nay.”

Well, that answer was short and to the point. She stood and lifted her chin defiantly. She was Esme, Lady of Evergreen. Let him do what he would with her. He could not take away her pride. Still, she whistled softly.

Actually…she soon changed her tune.

With a new dollop of soft soap, he lathered her abdomen and belly, then spent a great amount of time on her woman’s fleece and the private folds between her legs. Even the crease of her buttocks got his attention. The rogue knew what he was about, too, because he touched her in places and in ways that only an expert libertine would know of. If she had not realized it before, she did now…she was way beyond her depth with this man.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and glanced at him.

To her satisfaction, she saw him lick his own lips. The Viking was equally affected by this little game of his. She was surprised that he did not grab for her, but she should not have been. He was an experienced man. His moves would be smoother than that.

Handing her a linen cloth, he said, “Dry yourself, Esme. We have a contract to discuss.”

“What kind of contract?” she asked as she put the cloth to good use, then stepped out of the tub and used it to shield herself.

He grinned at her sad attempt at modesty after what he’d just seen and done. “Your punishment contract,” he said as he pulled the tub toward the door, then dumped the water outside. After that, he brought more wood inside and built up the fire.

Finally he answered her as he began to disrobe himself, “You kept me captive here for ten days. I figure that turnabout is fair play. Ten for ten. Except that you bit my lip that one time, which brings you up to eleven days, and your attempt at escape certainly counts for at least two more days. So your debt is thirteen days minus the two already spent here for a total of eleven days.”

“You should wipe my debt out totally for having forced me to take such drastic measures in the first place.”

“What kind of feminine illlogic is that?”

“Men just don’t recognize that women have brains.”

“It’s not your brain I’m interested in.”

“Have I ever mentioned that you are a loathsome lout?”