The Kadin - Bertrice Small [180]
“Get out!” she shouted. “I’ll scream the castle down if ye dinna get out!”
“Dinna be foolish, my dear. No one will hear ye high up in yer tower.” He was completely naked now.
“Ruth is coming back. She will go for help.”
Mounting the two steps to the tub, Colin Hay stepped into the hot water and faced her. “I have dismissed Ruth for the night She has gone to her virgin bed.”
“You dared?!”
Reaching out he drew her resisting body towards him. Bending he found her mouth, and gently, but possessively, kissed it He released her. “Now, sweetheart, scrub my back.”
She screamed her rage at him in Turkish, but Colin Hay just laughed.
“All right” he said. “I’ll do yer back first”
Spinning her around he lathered her smooth, long back with the soap, then washed and rinsed it Finished, he pulled her against him, and cupping her breasts in his hands began to tease the nipples. She squirmed away from him, and grabbing the bath brush brandished it at him.
“You bastard!”
“My back, madame.”
“Will ye get out of my tub, then?”
“Aye.”
Angrily she attacked his back, scrubbing it so hard it turned beet red. When she had finished, he calmly climbed out of the tub and began to towel himself dry. She could not help but look at him, for other than Selim, she had never seen a naked man.
Colin Hay was big, standing at least six foot three inches. She knew he was fifty-five, but his body was lean and well-muscled, its smoothness marred only by a few old sword scars. His wavy hair was still midnight black with just a touch of silver at the temples. His wind-tanned face was handsome and craggy, with a high, wide forehead, long straight nose, a generous mouth, and those strange, leaf-green eyes which looked out from beneath thick-lashed eyelids that were always half-closed.
He stood straight now and faced her, and of his masculinity there was no doubt. She flushed as under her fascinated gaze his manhood became large and swollen. She could not seem to draw her eyes away from it
He laughed softly and holding out his hand commanded her, “Come.”
“I have no intention of getting out of this tub, Lord Hay, until you dress yourself and leave my apartments,” she returned coldly.
He reached the tub in two strides, and mounting the steps hauled her dripping from the water. Wrapping her struggling body in a towel he forcibly sat her in front of the fireplace. So black was his look that she dared not speak. Her heart was pounding violently with rage and fright.
“Madame, you try my patience! I told ye earlier I intended making love to ye tonight and I do. God knows I’ve waited forty years to do so!”
“Do ye take me for a fool?” she exploded. “Do ye expect me to believe that because ye watched me at court when I was but a child, ye hae been pining for me all these years? Aside from your three marriages, I’ll wager ye’ve been in every bed between here and the border, up to the isles and back! And now ye would add me to yer collection. I’ll kill ye first!”
As she launched herself at him, the towel that was covering her fell to the ground. As she reached to pick it up, the master of Grayhaven had snatched it away, and before she could stop him, he tumbled her back onto her bed and flung himself on top of her. She fought him violently, clawing and scratching.
Cruelly he forced her legs apart and sliding between them, he drew them up and over his shoulders. Shrieking as she realized his intent she tried to squirm out of his reach, but he held her buttocks in his big hands. Like silken fire his tongue touched her here and there—teasing, tantalizing, taunting. Sobbing, her control lost she moaned her desire and shame as his tongue plunged repeatedly into her throbbing softness. Her body arched to meet his mouth, but he slipped up and over her, and kissing the tears on her cheeks, plunged into her. He moved smoothly and rhythmically until she cried out her relief. He quickly followed.
For a few minutes only their rapid breathing broke the stillness.