CHAPTER FOUR #2
Douglas smiled. “Thank you so much.”
The man acknowledged her thanks with a nod, and withdrew.
She sat down in a chair before the fire and proceeded to remove her boots.
Then she took off her knitted hose and wriggled her bare toes in the deep-piled carpet.
She paused, wondering if he would leave.
When Greystoke remained, she deliberately reached up and unpinned her braids, then with deft fingers she loosened the plaited strands.
She shook her head and the fiery red tresses tumbled about her shoulders.
Her eyes met his in a challenge. When he made no move to leave, she was determined that he would not intimidate her, nor inhibit her, for that matter.
She turned her back on him and began to unfasten the buttons at her neck.
“I’ll need a towel,” she threw over her shoulder, “and something clean to put on.”
Silence behind her made her glance back. Greystoke had disappeared. With all speed she stripped off her leather breeches and the rest of her clothes and climbed into the tub.
The water covered only her legs and hips, but she scooped up handfuls and splashed it over her belly and breasts. Douglas let out a blissful sigh, and picked up the soap and sponge.
The door opened. Greystoke hadn’t disappeared for long. He closed the distance between them. He carried a towel and a white linen shirt. “I have no female garments, Firebrand, but you don’t seem to mind male attire.”
She slid down as low as she could in the tub, proving that she was both intimidated and inhibited. She clutched the sponge to her breasts like a protective shield.
“Douglas, surely by now you know I won’t harm you?”
“Are you telling me I can trust you?”
“Good God, I wouldn’t go that far!”
“You arrogant devil. Turn your eyes away, while I finish bathing.”
“Not a chance.” His gaze licked over her, missing no detail. “You are extremely lovely to look at. But for me, that isn’t your main attraction.”
His words so intrigued her, she forgot to clutch the sponge.
“It is your pride and confidence. It makes you incandescent. I’ve never seen a woman who seemed more alive, Firebrand.
” He reached down and took the sponge, then he moved behind her, lifted her hair, and soaped her back.
“Your bravado is irresistible, and your innocence draws me like a siren’s song. ”
“The water cools.”
“My blood heats.”
“Step away, or I’ll rake my nails down your face!”
He chuckled. “Feisty little Scot.” He held out the towel.
Her eyes widened. “You are baiting me.”
He grinned. “And you are rising to the bait.”
She did rise. Like Venus from the sea. She deliberately drenched him with the water.
She grabbed the towel, and Greystoke grabbed her.
She was panting with anger and indignation, and she struggled in his powerful arms like a wildcat.
She soon realized that fighting him was useless.
He was far too strong. She stilled, and to her amazement, he set her feet to the carpet.
“I think we’ve succeeded in banishing your chill and warming your blood. Dry yourself and put on my shirt. I hope you enjoyed the tussle as much as I did.” He removed his soaking wet shirt, and reached for her towel.
Douglas stepped back quickly before he could snatch the towel and render her naked.
“How dare you?” she demanded. “‘Tis said the Scots are uncivilized, but I warrant they have nothing on Englishmen. I expected a chivalrous nobleman, not a savage barbarian!”
“Thankless little bitch. I’ve rescued you, fed you, warmed you, and bathed you.” Anger darkened his eyes as he towered above her.
She tossed her head, and her fiery tresses tumbled about her naked shoulders. “And for that you expect me to lick your boots! Not in your lifetime, Englishman!”
Greystoke grabbed her and took possession of her mouth with his. His arms held her captive against his bare muscular chest. Heat leaped between them, as he kissed her deeply. The firm pressure of his lips gentled as she stopped struggling, and she gave herself up to his mastery.
A delicious feeling of pleasure swept Douglas from her mouth to her mons.
It was all new and exciting. She had challenged his manhood, and he had risen to the occasion.
She could feel his hard cock against her soft flesh, and felt exhilaration at the power she had over him.
He was the captor and she the captive, but suddenly she wanted to turn the tables on him.
She opened her lips, and felt a surge of sensuality when his tongue thrust into the intimate, wet, dark cave of her mouth.
She let go of the towel, went up on her toes, slid her arms about his neck, and pressed her full breasts against his powerful chest. His overt masculinity made her feel deliciously feminine. She felt his mouth release hers, and his lips brushed a gentle kiss on her eyelids.
She let out a shuddering breath. “It seems opposites have a fatal attraction.”
“Nay,” he murmured against her temple. “This is like calling to like.”
Douglas immediately acknowledged the truth of his words.
Greystoke stripped off his leather breeches and flung them after his wet shirt.
He settled her arms about his neck once more, then his hands cupped her buttocks and he lifted her onto his cock.
He bent his head to claim her mouth, and she raised her lips to meet his, eager for the ravishing.
His shaft lay in the valley between her legs.
With their bodies entwined he carried her across the chamber and deposited her on the wide bed.
He stared down at her, drinking in her glorious, wild beauty. “I’ve imagined these fiery curls between your legs since I first saw you atop the stone wall.”
Douglas boldly reached out to touch the curls that covered his groin. “Black and red, a dangerous combination.”
“Danger excites you.” His voice was deep and dark, like black velvet.
“You excite me,” she purred.
“Only because I’m dangerous, Firebrand.”
She licked her lips in sensual invitation. “If you play with fire, you’ll burn your fingers.” She arched her mons and felt a shudder of desire when he threaded his fingers into her red curls.
Greystoke expected her to bargain with him, offering her body in exchange for her brothers’ release.
Douglas had too much pride to ask. She would give freely and hoped he’d do the same.
He came down to kneel beside her on the bed, and spread her vivid hair across the pillow.
His instincts told him that this was her first time, in spite of her generous response to him.
Greystoke knew that in order to give her pleasure rather than pain, he must arouse her fully, lure her to cast aside her inhibitions, and revel in her own sexuality.
He picked up her foot and dropped a kiss on each toe, then he slid his tongue along the high arch of her instep.
His calloused hands stroked up the creamy skin of her leg, then he bent his head to kiss and lick the delicate flesh of her thigh.
When his mouth arrived at the tendrils on her mons, he pursed his lips and blew on the curls, making them dance about in playful abandon.
Then he picked up her other foot and repeated the foreplay.
“You make me feel beautiful and desirable,” she said breathlessly.
“Douglas Elliot, you are so luscious, I could devour you.” He gently bit her toes.
It was a new experience for her to be treated as if she were special. She had a healthy sense of self-worth, but in her family’s pecking order, she came after her brothers. Greystoke looked at her and touched her as if she were precious, and it felt blissful.
He stroked her belly and caressed her breasts, first kissing, then tonguing her nipples.
He felt himself harden and lengthen, and when he saw she was avidly watching his body’s reaction, his cock bucked wildly.
He straddled her thighs, and reached his fingers down to caress and stimulate her woman’s center.
He slipped a finger into her hot sheath, playing until she became slick, then he brought her to climax and watched her eyes widen in surprise.
He cupped her mons and she cried out at the exquisite sensations he aroused.
Douglas thought fleetingly of Alex Hume who had pursued her at the Queen’s Court, and it made her shudder.
When she compared the young fop to Lance Greystoke, she was suddenly thanking the Fates who had brought her to the English nobleman’s bed.
Here was a man worthy of her virginity. She banished her apprehension, and her lips curved in an inviting smile.
Lance came over her and took possession of her luscious mouth.
He gave her a hundred kisses, arousing her passion, then he whispered how much he desired her, and what he was going to do to her.
He positioned his cock. “Open to me, Douglas,” he urged.
She arched against him and he slid slowly into her tight sheath.
She could not take the whole length of him, but he was overjoyed with her generous response to him.
As he thrust in and out, she writhed and cried out with pleasure.
He did not prolong it, for fear of hurting her.
He spent quickly, then gathered her in his arms, and buried his face in her glorious hair.