'I warn you, I'm very strong…'
'Really.' He slipped the morsel of toast into his mouth.
'I unload freight in our warehouses.'
He chewed briefly and then swallowed. 'Do you now.'
'You won't find it easy to wrestle me down.'
'But a pleasure, I warrant…'
'After I eat and bathe, I may allow you to try.'
His smile warmed his eyes. 'How nice.'
'You needn't sound so smug. I've arm-wrestled some of my grandfather's sailors and won.'
'I see.'
'They were powerful men, I assure you.'
'I'm sure they were.'
'You're beginning to annoy me, Bathurst.'
He dipped his head infinitesimally. 'When I'm trying my utmost to be agreeable.'
She snorted softly. 'Men aren't always strongest.'
He'd fought guerrilla troops for months on end in the foothills of the Himalayas, and while he agreed with her in principle, they were far from evenly matched. 'I understand,' he pleasantly said.
'Go and get the damned food.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'I'll deal with you later.'
Bending low, he ran his fingertip over her lush lower lip. 'I can hardly wait.'
But the food took center stage once it was all brought in and arranged within reach, the splendid assortment beautiful to the eye, delectable to the palate, and delicious. Dermott sat opposite her while she lounged on the bed, and they ate for some time in a companionable silence broken only by agreeable comments on the food or Dermott's selection of wines.
'You have a remarkable appetite,' Isabella observed after Dermott had demolished two plates of steak with oyster sauce and an entire bottle of claret.
He glanced up. 'I forgot to eat today. Anticipation, I suppose.' His smile was cordial. 'Were you able to eat?'
'Actually, no. So you don't do this every day either?'
'Not every day. Not ever.'
'I'm the first?' she flirtatiously inquired, knowing full well she wasn't the first in anything with the prodigal earl.
'The first to share my bed in Bathurst House. You see how enamored I am.'
'I am wonderful, am I not?' she playfully agreed, spreading her arms wide.
'No argument there.' He lifted his wineglass to her in salute.
The sound of a door closing, followed by footsteps and the splashing of water, interrupted their solitude.
'Sounds like your bath.' Dermott nodded toward a small door in the corner of the room. Pushing away from the table, he stood. 'I'll check on their progress.'
The hum of conversation resonated through the door for a time, as did continuing footfalls and the sound of water being poured. Until a final thud of a door closing was followed by Dermott's reappearance. 'Would you like me to carry you?' he asked, moving toward the bed.
She smiled at him. 'I'm not an invalid.'
He frowned briefly. 'I wasn't cut out to be a despoiler of maidens.'
'Soon I shall be a consummate courtesan and you need no longer castigate yourself.'
'We'll see about that,' he gruffly replied, the thought of her as a consummate courtesan no less deplorable.
'
'We'll see.' His voice was low, scarcely audible, an odd possessiveness overcoming him.
Her brows rose.
He smiled and offered her his hand. 'I said, you're right, of course.'
'And don't forget it, my darling Bathurst. What I've just done was specifically intended to maintain my independence. I'm not likely to relinquish it to someone else.'
'Yes, ma'am,' he dulcetly replied, drawing her to her feet.
'You're much too glib.'
He grinned. 'A failing, I'm told. I shall endeavor to improve.'
She stuck out her tongue. 'Insolent rogue.'
'A bath might soothe your temper, my lady.' He was blatantly unctuous.
'But not your insolence.'
'A shamelessly intractable trait, I believe.' He spoke with unabashed cheekiness. 'Perhaps you could school me in manners.'
'I doubt you'd comply.'
'If the reward was sufficient, my lady, I might be persuaded.'
'A sexual reward, no doubt.'
'Unless you find poetry as intriguing as I.'
She laughed at his outrageous mummery. 'You'd settle for poetry?'
'If the conditions were ideal, of course.'
'Meaning?'
'After your bath, I'll tell you.'
'Now
'On that common note, my dear, might I suggest you take advantage of the bath while the water's still warm.'
He sat well away from her while she bathed, resisting the impulse to ravage her bounteous charms with an unaccustomed self-denial maintained with only the greatest effort. If he were a gentleman, he'd refrain from making love to her again tonight, he reflected, and allow her to recover from her denouement. But he wasn't capable of such chivalry when she was so alluring. In fact, he was hard pressed to remain in his chair.
He drank to distract himself, although he questioned the suitability of further numbing his already tenuous self- control. She bathed with a serene disregard for his presence, as though they'd done this countless times before, and he wondered if she realized how uneasily he was balancing base impulse and good judgment.
'You're quiet,' she murmured, tracing her palm over the surface of the water, causing light ripples to wash over the mounds of her half-submerged breasts.
His grip on his brandy glass tightened. 'I'm practicing self-restraint; it takes all my concentration.'
'How sweet, but you could join me if you wish.'
'I'm trying not to.'
'What if I were to specifically invite you?'
'I still wouldn't.'
'Because?'
'I might hurt you.'
'This heated water is making me feel very sexy.' She slid up higher so her large breasts floated on the surface of the water. 'I think I'm going to be
'You're making this damned difficult.'
'I feel perfectly fine-without a twinge of discomfort.' Lifting one leg from the water, she balanced her calf on the side of the copper tub and smiled at him.
'It's not going to take very much to change my mind,' he growled softly.
'Would something like this help?' Raising her other leg, she rested it on the tub rim, her provocative pose bringing his erection to full alert.
He set his glass down and reached for the tie on his dressing gown.
