The Wicked House of Rohan Read Online Free Page A

a sweet voice. “But I’ll give you a towel.”
    She put out her hand, trying to keep the rest of her under the rose-clouded water. He pushed away from the door and came to stand over her, and she suddenly felt hot, so hot she wondered if the water would start to heat up around her once more. She took the towel and waited for him to move back.
    He didn’t. She glared up at him. “Go away,” she said again.
    â€œDon’t waste your breath, my love. I’m not going anywhere. Here, I’ll hold the towel for you.”
    Even in the shadowy light he could see her glare, and he laughed. “Very well, I’ll back off. A few feet. But we’re going to have to talk, sooner or later.”
    He really would stay there until she gave in. It was difficult, holding the towel in front of her as some kind of blanket, then trying to angle herself out of the tub without getting her hair wet all over again.
    She slipped, and he was there to catch her, lifting her out, the towel a thin layer between them, his hands on her naked back as he held her.
    He looked down at her, surprise clear on his face. A moment later it was gone, replaced by the sardonic languor she was fast growing accustomed to. “You’re much too thin,” he observed. “I can feel your ribs.” His cool fingers stroked her heated skin. “But I find you’re much more interesting with your clothes off.”
    She yanked herself out of his arms, wrapping the towel around her. He caught her arm before she could move completely out of reach, and he picked up a thick strand of her hair. Once she’d washed it she’d let it hang over the edge of the tub and it was almost dry, its familiar strawberry-blond color warm in the firelight. “And your hair is quite lovely. Such an unusual combination—chocolate-brown eyes and strawberry hair.”
    She froze. Fifteen years ago he’d teased her, flirting with her, telling her she had chocolate eyes, and it had been a joke between them. She allowed herself a brief, searching look at him, but he didn’t appear to have made any connection. He’d probably seen any number of women with chocolate eyes.
    â€œThe bed is in the adjoining room,” he said.
    â€œWh…what?”
    His smile was wry. “You were going to take a nap, remember? Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
    â€œPlease release me,” she said in response. She couldn’t think straight when he was touching her. Even the simple hold on her wrist sent waves of heat through her body, to places she didn’t even want to think about.
    â€œWhy?”
    She yanked, but he didn’t let go. “If you bruise me your fellow degenerates might complain,” she said bitterly.
    â€œI expect they’ll bruise you far worse than I will. Why do you want me to take my hand off you?”
    â€œBecause I don’t like you.”
    â€œTry again. Don’t you have any idea why you shiver when I touch you?”
    â€œRevulsion? Extreme dislike? Nausea?”
    His slow smile widened until it was absolutely wicked, and he trailed his other hand up her bare arm, to the base of her neck, letting his fingers dance over her racing pulse. “No. But then, you wouldn’t be likely to recognize it. Try this.”
    And before she realized what he was going to do he’d leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers, a light, clinging kiss, pulling away before she could react.
    She stared up at him in consternation. “Why did you do that?” she whispered.
    â€œTo make a point. It’s called sexual attraction, my innocent one. It’s a powerful force when it hits this hard. It’s animal instinct, the mating urge, and for some bizarre reason it exists between you and me.”
    â€œRidiculous.” She barely managed to get the word out.
    He was trailing his hand up and down her arm while his other one captured her wrist. “Not at all.