Sweet Savage Eden Read Online Free Page B

do you want, girl?” the wench demanded, and Jassy feared that she would be sick. The tavern wench was young, with well-rounded bosom and hips, and she moved with an explicit sway that brought new horror to Jassy. This … this was what she would become.
    Quinine! She reminded herself desperately, and the thought gave her courage.
    “I have been asked here,” she said simply.
    “Oh,” the wench said, smiling slyly and eyeing her curiously. She shrugged and cast a glance toward the stairway. “Here for his lordship, eh? Well, well. Aye, he’d be expectin’ you. Third door. Best room in the house.”
    Jassy nodded. As she moved toward the stairs the wench sauntered over to the barkeep and whispered quite loudly to him, “Why, ’tis Jassy Dupré. Imagine! Her what thinks she’s better than the rest of us! Whorin’ up to him that’s rich and fine, same as any other lass!” She laughed delightedly.
    The barkeep chuckled, and Jassy could feel his eyes boring into her back. “So ’tis her, ain’t it, now? Maybe she won’t be so high-flyin’ in the days to come, eh?”
    They both burst into crude laughter. The malicious mockery followed her all the way up the stairs and along the hallway.
    Jassy reached the door and desperately threw it open, not thinking to knock. She closed the door tightly behind her and leaned against it, gasping for breath. Here she was in a man’s bedchamber—as the hired entertainment for the evening.
    Not any man’s, she reminded herself. Robert’s. The kind, golden-haired gentleman. She would not die at his touch; she would come away with coin—bartered or stolen—and with her virginity intact.
    Instinct forced her first to appreciate the warmth of the room. Then she noted that it was very dark, for the fire in the hearth that provided the warmth had burned down very low, to glowing embers. The room seemed empty, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light she stiffened, biting into her lower lip with perplexity.
    Before the softly glowing embers of that fire sat a deep metal hip bath, from which steam wafted. It was definitely empty. Awaiting … her.
    Bitterly she wondered how she would manage to scan his clothing when it appeared that she was to doff her own first. Nor could she make any attempt at playing the seductress, and then the innocent, until she had crawled into that tub, for it was understandable that such a gentleman would not want a serving girl until that girl had bathed.
    Uneasily she stepped into the room, softly treading nearer the tub, wondering what had become of the man she had been summoned to … serve.
    She gasped, her heart seeming to beat like thunder, when large hands fell upon her shoulders from behind. She did not spin around but stood like a deer, poised for flight, yet achingly aware that she dare not run.
    “Your cloak, mistress,” came a husky male voice from the darkness that loomed all around her. “May I?”
    Panic seized her. He was behind her, it was so terribly unnerving to feel him there. The room seemed to blacken still further, and then spin, and she braced herself. Slowly the dizzy sensations faded.
    She lowered her head, nodding. She tried to remind herself that this was the golden-blond, shining knight who had championed her in the public room when his towering, dark friend had so cruelly cast her into trouble.
    She closed her eyes tightly, the better to remember his light, gentle eyes. So admiring.
    “You are cold. As cold as ice. The bath and the fire will warm you.” He spoke very quietly. His words were nearly whispers, and yet they, too, unnerved her. Soft, they were different somehow. They held a curious tension,a certain fever. He was a man, she reminded herself. A man who had hired a harlot for the evening.
    He touched her.…
    Her cloak was gone. His hands fell to her shoulders, and she tried not to shiver at the feel of those long male fingers there.
    She stepped forward, eluding those fingers.
    “The bath. It is for