Still, he was frozen in bemusement at her motives, and his eyes reveled in their freedom as they feasted hungrily on her beauty, seeking out every charm once hidden from him. Shanna felt devoured, and it took an effort of her will to remain pliant beneath his probing eyes.
“Come,” she urged, and her voice did not sound her own in her ears. She tugged at his arm. “Your bath is ready, Master Beauchamp.”
Ruark let himself be led like a dumb animal into the bedchamber where a large, massive tester bed occupied the far wall. A candelabrum sat on a table beside it, its flames flickering in the soft breezes that billowed the draperies at the windows. Beneath it, glasses and crystal decanters of several various brews waited. White, filmy netting was tied to the heavy, ornate posts of the bed, and he saw that the bedding had been folded down invitingly and the pillows fluffed.
Shanna halted beside the tub which faced the room. A taper gleamed beside it, and its light silhouetted her through the gown, betraying the full measure of her beauty. As he stood close before her, her soft, green eyes lifted to meet his, he was almost overwhelmed by the nearness of her, the sweet, exotic fragrance that clung to her. Her breasts pressed wantonly against the gauze of her diaphanous gown, almost touching his chest. It was all Ruark could do to hold in check the urges that flooded him and to keep himself from simple rape.
“I thought you might enjoy a bath,” Shanna murmured. “If not…”
Ruark’s eyes swept about the room, but he could find no place for assailants to hide and certainly not the broad, hulking Pitney. The draperies and windows were open, and the dense black yard and the jungle beyond lent only the usual night sounds to his ears, the twittering of birds and the occasional croak of frogs or chirp of insects.
He returned his gaze to Shanna, who waited patiently for his answer.
“Such richness might warp my senses.” He kicked of his sandals. “But I shall taste its fullness ‘ere my final doom descends.”
Shanna smiled softly, and her slim fingers plucked at the fastenings of his breeches. “You do not trust me still.”
“I remember our last encounter in England,” Ruark responded dryly, “and deeply fear that another such interruption might render me useless to any woman.”
Shanna ran her hands down his lean ribs but kept her eyes carefully on his face as he tossed the breeches to a chair.
“In the tub, my lustful dragon. Breathe not your fire aimlessly. I am here to see the bargain out. You need have no further fear of me.”
Ruark lowered himself into the warm bath and relaxed a moment in the luxury of it. As his wandering gaze moved to her, Shanna gently caressed his shoulder and offered him a large snifter of brandy. Ruark drained the glass in a single breath and welcomed the burning distraction in his throat. Taking the empty glass from him, Shanna poured another draught and returned it to his hand. Her kiss was as soft and quick on his lips as a butterfly’s touch upon a rose.
“ ‘Tis better if you sip it slowly, my love, and taste the fullness of it.”
Ruark leaned back against the high rim of the tub and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the warm water. His baths in the creek had been good enough for cleanliness, but they had lacked much in the way of comfort and relaxation. He opened one eye to peer at Shanna, setting the glass aside.
“Wife in truth you be?”
She nodded. “For this night.”
“Then scrub my back, wife.”
He tossed a sponge and leaned forward, awaiting her. Shanna came to him, and her hands were gentle, lathering the broad expanse. She was again reminded of a sleek, powerful cat as her hands lightly glided over him, and she could not help but marvel at the rugged strength that lay relaxed beneath her touch. Oddly content at the task, Shanna leisurely lathered his black hair, fluffed it dry, and brushed it into place. She massaged his neck and shoulders, dissolving any fatigue that might have been there. Ruark could remember no other moment in his life when such pure bliss had descended upon him. Then she ran her finger along his chin, rasping her long nail along the short stubble there. Shanna pressed him back until he lay again against the high back of the tub and, taking up a razor and soap, shaved him carefully and then stroked his face gently with a hot towel.
“Is this the way of a wife?” Shanna asked almost hesitantly. “I’ve had so little practice, I would not know.”
Ruark’s eyes met hers, shining softly so close above him. He reached out to take her hand and draw her near, but she left him and wandered to the open window where she leaned against the sill and toyed with the tassels on the drapes. Ruark relaxed to finish his bath. He had seen the fleeting frown of bemusement that crossed her face and wondered what dire circumstance had brought the thornbound Shanna out of safety and to this end. Certainly no assault of his, for he had not been stirred to risk a flogging or worse in seeking her out.