thrust them under his gaze, then drew a deep breath, taunting him further.
He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back to her flushed cheeks and eyes.
“Tell me…” She came closer. The room suddenly seemed smaller, the temperature scorching, and the air incredibly thick.
He ached with longing for…what? He sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to think about the insistent throbbing between his legs.
Her eyes locked on his. Mistake. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
She laid her hand on his arm. He flinched as if scalded, but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t have brushed her hand from his arm if his life depended on it.
Before she could say more, there was a thud at the door. As if released from a spell, Marco got to his feet and pulled back the bolt. Two burly young men edged into the room, carrying a heavy wooden tub.
“Set it down near the fire,” Marco ordered. These were the two whose hands had been all over Emma when they found her. Maybe the ones who had bruised her face. The heat of anger rose up in him and he moved to shield her from their stares.
Still trying to steal looks at her, the men did as they were bid. They placed the tub on the floor and went out, only to reappear with pails of water. Some sloshed over the sides as they turned their eyes on the woman while they filled the tub. She pulled the coat tighter around her.
He found another coin for them. “Get out.”
They scuttled away. Marco heard their coarse laughter as he bolted the door. He turned back to his captive. “They know no better.”
“They are the least of my concerns. I need to contact the nearest British Consul.”
“In due time.”
“What in damnation are you talking about?” She looked around the room and glanced down at her bare legs. “What kind of a man are you?”
“An honorable one, although you find me in strange circumstances. I said I would take you to a place of safety and I will do so. In a few days.” He hoped his voice was reassuring. God only knew what would happen to her if they were caught before they reached the caves.
She looked him up and down, a sneer of distaste twisting her pretty mouth. “You want ransom money, don’t you? I’m your hostage.”
He fisted his hands in anger, but forced himself to speak calmly. “It pains me that you think so. I will do my best to make you comfortable and to keep you safe. But you will have to follow my orders.”
Her eyebrows rose and she gave a gasp of disbelief. “Orders? I’ve never followed a man’s orders in my life.”
God, he would like to see her on her knees before him, begging to know his wishes, eager to comply with his every desire… He fought to control the pounding of his blood, giving no hint of the lustful thoughts that besieged his mind. “I can believe that.” He indicated the tub sitting in front of the fire. “I am sure you wish to clean your skin of the salt. They brought warm water for you. You may bathe.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Surely not in your presence? A gentleman would leave.”
He shrugged. “There are few gentlemen here. You have no other choice,
She stood. “Fancy that. Bella donna. Beautiful lady.” She took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair. “In my country it’s the name of a poisonous plant.”
She fingered the torn edge of her shift that skimmed the nipple of her left breast.
Marco stood across the room from her, his arms folded, his back against the rough wooden door. He held his body under tight control, even while the blood pounded in his veins and his cock begged to be set free of his confining clothing. He steeled his expression to give nothing away, but still felt her under his hands as they had snaked under the old coat.
Her eyes on his face, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shift and began to lift it, a small, secretive smile on her lips. “You had better turn away.”
His jaw tightened and the blood throbbed in his groin. If she stripped in front of his eyes, how in God’s name would he be able to hold back? What kind of an animal would she think him? He turned to face the wall.
The shift rustled as she raised her arms above her head, drawing the cloth up her body. His nerve ends twitched as he saw in his mind’s eye the slow revelation of her thighs, her belly, the dark patch between her legs that would match the color of her hair. He knew exactly the curve of her waist, the swell of her breast, the sweet hollow at the base of her throat. He closed his eyes and forced a deep breath.
He heard the lap of the water as she stepped into the tub.
“You can turn around now. I’m reasonably decent.” Her voice mocked him and his sense of chivalry.
He turned. The water reached the same spot as the torn shift, revealing the curve of her breast, shrouding her nipples.
She lay back, the ends of her hair trailing on her shoulders. “Is there any soap?”
“Of course.”
Emma stretched in the water, letting the warmth soothe her aching muscles. At least she was alive. Was it possible that everyone else on the boat was dead? Even if these people knew differently, there was no way of knowing if they would tell her the truth. They were bandits, that much was obvious, and this tall man, Marco, who’d given her his coat in an amusing gesture of gallantry, then carried her across the filthy farmyard, was their leader.
She still hadn’t figured out exactly why the two oafish peasants had scooped her up off the beach and brought her here. Marco said he didn’t want money, but he hadn’t convinced her. Everyone had their price whether it was gold coin or a roll in the hay.
Last night on the boat, that nice young officer had pointed out the lights of Naples as they steamed out of the Bay. But God only knew where she was now. Somehow she had to persuade this Marco to take her to civilization. Daddy would pay any kind of ransom and think it cheap enough to get his precious daughter back.
She sighed. So much for turning her back on her old life. This Marco might think he was in charge, but he wanted her and she understood enough about men to know there would come a point when he’d do anything she asked just to get inside her. If she played it right. And she would do it, if that was the price to set her free.
He came close and handed her a bar of yellow soap. She let her fingers linger on his as she took the offering. He had the most amazing eyes, dark and luminous under strong brows. His face was lean and rugged, with high cheekbones, while his lips showed red and forceful amidst a black stubble only a few days old. She already knew how they tasted and how strong his arms were.
She let her gaze skim the rest of his muscular torso. It had felt warm and powerful pressed close to hers. A tiny warm ache of desire that had started between her thighs when he held her, spread slowly and deliciously up into her belly. Persuading him to help her might not be such a hardship after all.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He gave a little bow and stepped back. The soap smelled foul, probably made from mutton fat or something equally disgusting, but she was in no position to be fussy. She slid under the water so her hair floated on the surface and then came up for air.
After she’d worked up a lather, his eyes followed the veiled movement of her breasts as she raised her arms to twist her hair on top of her head like a crown. She’d bet five pounds he was hiding something large and tempting inside those trousers.
She lifted one leg and ran the soap along its length, taking her time to arch her foot and show the slenderness of her calf. His gaze came to rest on the water that hid the top of her thighs.
“Did Enrico’s sons molest you in any way?”
She looked at him from under lowered lashes, wondering how much to tell him. It might be a good idea to keep his mind on the possibility of sex with her. She saw his throat work as he swallowed.
“They had their hands all over me. One of them had me pinned against the wall, while the other undid his trousers. Their father came, so they tied me up and brought me here instead.”
The flush of anger stained his cheekbones. “Signorina- I shall see that they are reprimanded.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She splashed water on her shoulders and saw him lick his lips as the droplets cascaded
