Page 77 of Their Master

Moira’s eyes flickering from Smith to Luke and back as the other man fastened the magnificent diamond necklace around her throat.

“Make sure it is snug,” he told Luke, his eyes on Moira. “It is meant to fit tightly—a choker is the word the jeweler used. There is even a tiny lock. But I won’t have Luke put that on you tonight,” he assured her, amused by her startled expression.

It was the single most expensive gift he’d ever purchased for anyone. Smith had to admit it looked well on her—five rows of diamonds that blazed like white fire. The earrings were double tear drops and suited her heart-shaped face and short hair.

Luke stepped back once he’d screwed in the second earbob.

“You may go, Luke.”

The door shut behind his servant and Smith ran a finger over her diamond collar. “You look magnificent, Moira. These stones are almost beautiful enough to adorn you.”

She swallowed, the necklace cutting into her skin when her throat flexed. “Thank you, Smith.”

The pulse at the base of her throat was pounding like a tiny drum. He leaned over and kissed it, lingering over the delicate spot before straightening.

“You are welcome, Moira.”

Smith took the towel from beneath her arm and soaped her armpit, where tiny glints of reddish-gold hair were breaking through her pale skin.

“I appreciate that you agreed to such rigorous grooming. I know it seems… excessive, but I cannot stop wanting it. Needing it. For years I tried to combat my obsession for both order and extreme cleanliness, but I finally decided there were other battles more worthy of my time.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

“You want to know what made me this way?” He smiled at her hesitant nod. “I’ve never told anyone else.” He replaced the brush and then picked up the razor. “But hopefully you will be the mother of my child, so you should know.”

Her pale skin flushed. Was she feeling guilty about cleansing herself? Or something else?

Well, no matter.

Smith stretched the skin and then stripped the area of hair in only three swipes of the blade. He glanced up and caught her staring, her eyes so wide the whites were vivid.

“You see how quick and painless that was?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Smith wiped away the soap with the still-hot towel and then tossed it into the nearby hamper.

“Using separate blades is the key to a painless, close shave,” he said conversationally as he picked up the second razor, tested the edge, and then moved to her other side and commenced the same process.

When he was done, he went to the foot of the table and raised the level of the stool until it put him at the correct angle. He then slid a hand around each of her ankles and exerted gentle pressure. The mechanisms that locked the stirrups into place clicked as he opened them wider.

“This table is quite ingenious, isn’t it?” he asked, continuing to push.

“Yes.”

“I have to admit it gave me …ideasfrom the very first moment I saw it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did it give you any ideas, Moira?”

“Yes, Smith. It did.” The tension around her eyes told him that she was beginning to feel discomfort at being opened so wide.

Smith halted his pushing and examined her spread thighs. The tendons that joined her thighs to her pelvis were prominent beneath the smooth, white skin. He caressed them with light touches that made her shiver.

“When I was young—not quite ten—I was freezing to death in a snowstorm. I had nowhere to stay, no money to buy my way into even the meanest of flophouses. So, I broke the lock on a cellar door and hid in a huge bin of apples.”

Smith looked up from the snow-white cloth that covered her sex and met her rapt gaze.

He clucked his tongue. “Here I’ve been chattering and this towel has become cold.” He took another heated towel from the silver warmer and replaced the one covering her. “Better?”

She nodded.

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