Page 21 of The Princess Stakes
Desperate to make a hasty exit without further humiliating herself, Sarani snatched up her discarded clothing and dragged her night rail over her damp body, nearly strangling herself with the ties. She made the mistake of turning around and immediately wished she hadn’t. Whereas the copper tub had almost hidden her from view, his bulk dwarfed it.
She tried not to look, truly she did. But holding on to any willpower was a lost cause, not when the duke sat like a pasha, in all magnificent indolence, his arms lazily draped over the edges and that powerful chest of his on mouthwatering display. Droplets clung to the hair there, dampening it to dark gold. One foot lay propped on the edge of the tub, the other beneath the water, exposing a thickly muscled calf.
Dear goddess of eternal fertility, why did he have to be so masculine? Five years ago, he’d been boyishly handsome, but now he was simply devastating…exuding leashed power and a raw virility that left her body in flames and her usually sensible mind in ashes.
As a sailor, couldn’t he have had scurvy? Loose teeth and bulging eyes? Maybe a harelip or a peg leg? Was that too much to ask?
But no—his lips were perfect, his legs were in fine muscular form, and his storm-colored eyes…well, she’d never stood any lick of defense against them. Not five years ago, and not now, when he was hip-deep in a bath and bare as he was born, staring at her with a sensual smirk on his lips.
Those mercurial eyes of his glittered when her gaze finally returned to his. “Changed your mind on staying?” he asked. “I won’t hold it against you if you did. Or I might, if you insist.”
Sarani couldn’t handle the playful lilt of his voice, much less make sense of his words, not while he was so…so dratted naked.
“Hold what against me?” she mumbled, her brain fighting to keep up.
“What you’ve been devouring with your eyes.”
Her face scorched. “You are…insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told by my very sassy cabin boy.” He lifted a golden eyebrow, a smirk playing over his lips. “Speaking of cabin boys, did your gossiping cronies inform you that a traditional duty is assistance during a bath?”
Sarani’s knees nearly buckled at the idea of touching him. Of putting her hands on those acres upon acres of glistening skin. She wanted her hands on him, her lips on him, her tongue… Gracious, her mouth actually watered at the thought. She wondered whether all those muscles were as hard as they looked. If it was a cabin boy’s job, then it was her duty to do it, wasn’t it? For the sake of devoted cabin boys everywhere. She’d turned and almost taken a half step back toward him before she came to her rioting senses.
Oh, get it together, you bean-brained hussy.
She should stand her ground. Cut him dead like the royal she was. Flay him alive with the whip of her tongue. But her stupid, shameless tongue had apparently decided to mutiny. It had other ideas instead of sensible speech…ideas that involved licking and sucking and a variety of lewd things that defied decency or morality.
Her mouth went dry at her wicked thoughts of tasting himthere.
Squaring her shoulders, she met his stare. “I wasn’t aware that you required washing like a helpless babe.”
“Are you offering?”
“No.”
A glittering gaze swept her. “You know you want to, or at least your body does.”
“And what would you know of what my body wants, Your Grace?”
His hot stare fastened on her breasts. To her undying shame, her nipples were proclaiming their steadfast adoration, straining against the thin, dampened lawn of her nightclothes that had now become transparent. Sarani slapped her arms across her front, her cheeks on fire.
“So I’m cold… What of it?”
His smile was wicked. “Are you certain that’s the reason?”
“For a duke, you’re no gentleman.”
“I never said I was.” His smile grew teeth. “And you should know that I’m done playing games, so you had better get used to it, my littleapsara.”
The lyrical sound of the Hindustani nickname he used to call her—water nymph—rolling over his tongue did unconscionable things to her needy heart and already shaky willpower. She was weak when it came to this man. And here he was, throwing down the gauntlet.
He hates you and wants to punish you.
He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Don’t trust him.
Gathering the shreds of her dignity, she tossed her chin high. “Play your games or don’t. But I guarantee you, Captain, that the only thing you will do is lose.”
