confused and awaiting a command. Zarek tired of arguing with her so just nodded his head.
“My lady will suffice. But you need not bring more wine to the chamber tonight.”
The boy nodded and bowed once again and exited the room.
Zarek watched Lysandra sit in the middle of the floor on an area carpet rather than on the bed or a chair. She placed the platter on her lap and brought the goblet to her lips. She quaffed the contents with a long chug and placed the goblet on the floor in front of her.
“You agree to the servant calling me my lady, but yet you dismissed him from bringing me more wine. Why is that?”
He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room and leaned back on two legs watching her eating like an animal in the wild. Her mouth opened wide and she shoveled food inside as if she had not eaten in weeks. Then she wiped the grease from her hands on the Persian carpet beneath her.
“No courtesy title can make you a lady,” he remarked leaning his head back against the wall. He couldn’t help but remember the wild way in which she mated with him. Aggressive and demanding. Not a lady at all. But damn if he didn’t find the whole thing arousing. She was sitting nearly naked, cross-legged, and his eyes settled upon her bare skin. Then she licked the juices off her fingers, her tongue flicking in and out making him squirm.
“You are afraid I won’t know how to act if I drink too much.”
“No,” he said, knowing exactly how she’d act and craving a repetition of the last time they’d been intimate. “I was thinking along the lines of baby Zarek’s benefit. If you are nursing, it may not be wise to be well in your cups.”
“Men know naught of babies,” she said, gathering up the platter and goblet and getting to her feet. “If I drink wine, ’twill actually calm the baby when I let him suckle. ’Twill not harm him, I assure you.”
A knock on the door interrupted them again, and he was thankful the servants were early. This time several pages entered with a large wooden tub in their grip. Chamber maids followed behind them with buckets of hot water and a soft, flower-scented soap and towels.
More servants marched in behind them, all dumping the buckets of steaming water into the tub. Lysandra handed her dishes to one of the chambermaids, and in exchange took the drying cloth she’d been holding. Zarek saw her separate them, realizing there were two, just as he had instructed.
“I will only need one, thank you.”
She handed the other back to the girl. Zarek stepped forward, retrieving it from the girl and dismissing her. When the servants had all left and they were alone once again, he turned to her and held up the cloth.
“This one is for me,” he told her, reaching down to unfasten his breeches.
Lysandra stood motionless, her eyes fastened on Zarek’s hand. He meant to bathe with her! He had just assumed after the way he had treated her she would even agree to the idea.
“Don’t!” she warned him.
Zarek looked up, his hand stilling. His eyes swept past her, then to the baby and then past the tub.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t undress. You will not be bathing with me.”
He dropped the drying cloth to the floor and reached down and removed his sandals. “Wasn’t it you who commented of the foul smell of my tunic?”
“Yes, but - ”
“And wasn’t it you who demanded a hot bath be brought to the room?”
“I did. But for me only. The stench of the dungeon clings to me and I long to be rid of it.”
He chuckled, and pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his bare chest. Strong and sturdy he stood with his tunic in his hands, his eyes interlocked with hers.
“Well the stench of my son’s mishaps cling to me, and I long to be rid of it as well. I do not take a fancy to a wench telling me what I can or cannot do in my own bedchamber.” In an act of obvious defiance, he dropped the tunic at her feet.
Lysandra’s Amazon instincts told her this was only a test
“My lady will suffice. But you need not bring more wine to the chamber tonight.”
The boy nodded and bowed once again and exited the room.
Zarek watched Lysandra sit in the middle of the floor on an area carpet rather than on the bed or a chair. She placed the platter on her lap and brought the goblet to her lips. She quaffed the contents with a long chug and placed the goblet on the floor in front of her.
“You agree to the servant calling me my lady, but yet you dismissed him from bringing me more wine. Why is that?”
He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room and leaned back on two legs watching her eating like an animal in the wild. Her mouth opened wide and she shoveled food inside as if she had not eaten in weeks. Then she wiped the grease from her hands on the Persian carpet beneath her.
“No courtesy title can make you a lady,” he remarked leaning his head back against the wall. He couldn’t help but remember the wild way in which she mated with him. Aggressive and demanding. Not a lady at all. But damn if he didn’t find the whole thing arousing. She was sitting nearly naked, cross-legged, and his eyes settled upon her bare skin. Then she licked the juices off her fingers, her tongue flicking in and out making him squirm.
“You are afraid I won’t know how to act if I drink too much.”
“No,” he said, knowing exactly how she’d act and craving a repetition of the last time they’d been intimate. “I was thinking along the lines of baby Zarek’s benefit. If you are nursing, it may not be wise to be well in your cups.”
“Men know naught of babies,” she said, gathering up the platter and goblet and getting to her feet. “If I drink wine, ’twill actually calm the baby when I let him suckle. ’Twill not harm him, I assure you.”
A knock on the door interrupted them again, and he was thankful the servants were early. This time several pages entered with a large wooden tub in their grip. Chamber maids followed behind them with buckets of hot water and a soft, flower-scented soap and towels.
More servants marched in behind them, all dumping the buckets of steaming water into the tub. Lysandra handed her dishes to one of the chambermaids, and in exchange took the drying cloth she’d been holding. Zarek saw her separate them, realizing there were two, just as he had instructed.
“I will only need one, thank you.”
She handed the other back to the girl. Zarek stepped forward, retrieving it from the girl and dismissing her. When the servants had all left and they were alone once again, he turned to her and held up the cloth.
“This one is for me,” he told her, reaching down to unfasten his breeches.
Lysandra stood motionless, her eyes fastened on Zarek’s hand. He meant to bathe with her! He had just assumed after the way he had treated her she would even agree to the idea.
“Don’t!” she warned him.
Zarek looked up, his hand stilling. His eyes swept past her, then to the baby and then past the tub.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t undress. You will not be bathing with me.”
He dropped the drying cloth to the floor and reached down and removed his sandals. “Wasn’t it you who commented of the foul smell of my tunic?”
“Yes, but - ”
“And wasn’t it you who demanded a hot bath be brought to the room?”
“I did. But for me only. The stench of the dungeon clings to me and I long to be rid of it.”
He chuckled, and pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his bare chest. Strong and sturdy he stood with his tunic in his hands, his eyes interlocked with hers.
“Well the stench of my son’s mishaps cling to me, and I long to be rid of it as well. I do not take a fancy to a wench telling me what I can or cannot do in my own bedchamber.” In an act of obvious defiance, he dropped the tunic at her feet.
Lysandra’s Amazon instincts told her this was only a test
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