down her breasts. Was he one of those who were aroused by the thought of forcing a woman? “I suppose I owe Enrico my safety, although he doesn’t look like someone who would rescue a damsel in distress.”
“Enrico knows better than to incur my displeasure.”
“I see. Well, that’s good to know. I don’t mind telling you I thought I was a goner.” She could not repress a shiver, although she tried to keep her tone light. She didn’t want anyone to know how terrified she’d been. How frightened she still was, if the truth be told and if she allowed herself to think. The Houndsdales had fought in every battle from Agincourt to the Somme. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean that she would accept whatever these men dished out to her. She had nothing to rely on save her own wits and determination if she was to get away from here.
She held out the soap to him. “Wash my back.”
Without a word, he took a step toward her. She saw a faint tremble in the hand he held out to her as she placed the slippery bar in his palm. He rubbed the soap between his hands and touched her shoulder with the foam. She thought she was ready for the feel of his fingers, but a tingling shock ran through her, catching her off guard. Leaning forward, she presented her back.
He knelt, letting his hands slide over her, from her neck to the base of her spine. His fingers crept over every muscle, every bone, around her side to the swell of each breast. Her breath came quicker as the spark in her belly grew into a glowing ember.
She closed her eyes, hypnotized by the warmth of his exploring fingers.
With an effort she opened her eyes and sat back, forcing him to take his hands from her.
“Very nice, thank you,” she said. Color stained his cheekbones and his eyes glittered as if with a fever. For two pins she’d stand up and reach out for him, letting him press her wet body to his firm torso. Just for a fleeting moment she allowed herself to imagine the feel of him against her, then brought her thoughts under control. She had to play him carefully, saving the prize for last.
“Anchors aweigh,” she said, and slid under the water to rinse her hair.
“I don’t suppose you have any fresh water, do you?” she asked when she emerged.
“There is some cold-”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make do.” She smiled at him sweetly, hoping his cock was rising, begging for release. “Do you have a towel?”
He sprang to his feet as if goaded. “Of course, signorina.” In two steps he had seized a large cloth from a nail in the wall and held it up. She looked at it dubiously. It was more than likely the grayish hue signaled a lack of washing rather than a natural fiber. She gave a mental shrug. This ordeal couldn’t last long. She’d tease this fellow until he had no resistance left, and then he’d deliver her to a nice hotel in a large city where she could contact the authorities. Forget all the nonsense about not telling her where they were and not being able to send a message. Forget the few days in his safekeeping. A few hours maybe. She’d be on her way home in no time. The worst that could happen would be she’d have to break her promise to lead a reformed life.
He held the dirty-looking cloth in front of his face, hiding his eyes, and she rose as gracefully as she could from the water, allowing him to wrap it around her. She twisted the ends above her breasts and he handed her another, smaller cloth to dry her hair.
The material clung to her damp breasts and to her thighs as she moved. The feel of the rough weave was arousing her even more. Her breasts tingled, and it wasn’t only the bathwater moistening the inside of her thighs.
She gathered up the torn shift and thrust it toward him. “Burn it, and find me some clothes,” she said. “And then we’ll talk about how I can get home.” She looked at him sharply and raised her eyebrows. “You can find me something to wear, I suppose? You don’t expect me to travel home naked?”
Chapter Two
Marco took the dirty cloth from her. The silky surface rippled smoothly under his fingers as if it were her skin. Naked? If he had the choice, he’d keep her tied up without a stitch of clothing just as he’d found her and damn the consequences. But he had no such choice. The thin cloth of the towel was soaked where it touched her body and clung sensuously to her breasts and thighs. Her nipples jutted in peaks, begging for a man to touch and squeeze them. His fingers itched to do just that, to find out where she liked to be caressed, how hard she would have him suck her breasts, what sounds she would make when he pleasured her-
She raised her hands and loosed the small cloth from her head.
With an effort, he turned and thrust the remains of the shift into the fire, making the flame flicker and sending a plume of smoke into the room.
“Dammit, take care, man.” She coughed and waved the fumes away, but drew nearer to the fire. Kneeling down, she threw her hair forward and let it hang over her face, allowing the warmth to dry it.
Marco swallowed. On all fours she presented a temptation hard to resist. The damp cloth molded the curve of her ass and fell away from her belly, allowing the faint light from the flames to outline the shape of her body, luring, enticing exploring hands.
He stifled a groan in his throat, and she looked at him sideways from under the fall of hair. “Did you say something?”
He shook his head and backed away. “I will ask Enrico’s wife if she has something you can wear, signorina.” He let himself out of the door and stood for a long moment, his back hard against the solid wood. The latch jabbed into his side but he welcomed the pain. Somehow he had to control himself. He had never known a woman who could so inflame him with a single glance. He drew deep breaths of the night air. She claimed to be the daughter of an English lord. He should be thinking how this might affect his mission, calculating the risks of returning her to the authorities. Instead, his foolish head was full with a young man’s fantasies. She made it spin with impossible desires.
“
Emma finished drying her hair and sat on the floor, her arms hugging her knees. What kind of pickle had she landed herself in? It might be 1930 in the real world, but this place was positively medieval. As soon as she had some clothing to wear, she would work on finding her way back to civilization. The
She felt a stab of sorrow at the thought of the other passengers, especially her maid, Catherine. Surely they couldn’t all be dead? Some of them must have been washed ashore just as she was. She couldn’t imagine any reason why she would have been saved over the others.
The rattle of the door latch brought her to her feet, ready to do battle if one of Enrico’s sons appeared. Marco edged into the room with an armful of clothing. She remained wary, still not too sure how much she could trust him. So far he seemed well disposed towards her, and she meant to keep him that way.
A hunk of bread sat balanced on top of the pile in his arms, and wobbled as he closed the door with his foot. Under his arm he carried a flagon of wine.
He dumped everything on the table, grabbing the bread as it rolled off the heap.
“Here.” He thrust it out to her and pulled a knife from his belt. Instinctively she flinched, but he ignored her. In two paces he reached one of the hams hanging from the rafters and sliced off a chunk of meat. “Eat while you can. Time grows short.”
Emma took the oily ham from his fingers. The rich, smoky aroma set the juices flowing in her stomach.
