Lois Greiman by The Princess, Her Pirate Page B

a heartbeat.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “I’ve no wish to disturb you, my lady…”
    My lady. She almost smiled.
    “But I cannot allow you to remain in there alone.”
    Slipping out of her shoes, she padded silently to the window, but one glance told her that her initial assessment had been correct. She was too high up. She would not escape by that route. Turning back toward the tub, she loosened the ties at the back of her simple gown.
    “Surely you are not suggesting that you watch me bathe,” she said.
    “Nay.” He sounded appalled, then cleared his throat. She could almost see him straighten. “But I must insist that you leave the door ajar.”
    “But…” She let her voice waver again. “Lieutenant, ’twould not be seemly.”
    “I assure you I’ve no interest—That is to say, I will not watch you. I only wish to ascertain your safety.”
    She opened the door and granted him the smallest of smiles. “In other words, you want to make certain I do not escape.”
    He cleared his throat again, but didn’t look her in the eye. “I can see the window from this chamber,” he said.
    It was her turn to scowl. “And you will not…dishonor me?”
    If his back were any straighter, he would surely keel over backward like an axed pine. “You have my word, my lady.”
    She bit her lip. “Very well then. But you will stay well back by yonder wall?”
    He glanced over his shoulder, past the menagerie of unidentified objects toward the bedroom’s only door. “I willguard the portal,” he said. There was a host of places to sit, including a small satiny couch of sorts that curled dramatically at one end. There was also the bed, which seemed the most welcoming, but he would use neither of those. No, she was certain he would stand hour upon end like a stone sentry and be perfectly happy doing so.
    She nodded, then left the door ajar and pattered out of sight. His footfalls were distinct as they paced from the plush weave of the carpet, onto hardwood, and back onto softness.
    She skimmed the room quickly now—the tub, the plant, an ungainly statuette. It seemed to be a figure of a man. It was not large, perhaps twelve inches in height, but what it lacked in stature, it made up for in earthy suggestiveness. The figure’s penis was nearly half the length of its body and as erect as an oak tree. Her hands shook as she lifted it. It was heavy, solid, substantial. A fine weapon. A noise brushed from the other room, and she stiffened. But in an instant it was silent again. She exhaled heavily and set the figurine quickly aside.
    This was no time to hesitate. Straightening, she set her hands to her laces. She was not accustomed to dressing herself, but her costumes were usually more elaborate. This gown was simple enough to remove. She did so, controlling her breathing and glancing furtively toward the door. Not that she didn’t trust Peters. If she were reading him right, he would take a sword through the heart before he would dare displease his lord, and if there was one thing the princess of Sedonia was adept at, it was reading people. She had learned long ago to know whom to trust and whom to fear. All fawned, few cared. She had been a duke’s daughter since the day of her birth, a commodity, an heiress, and now a sovereign. Like so much gilded treasure, to be carefully hoarded and well spent.
    In a moment her shift had joined her gown. Her stockings came next, and she drew a deep breath as she shed her long cotton stays.
    The clothes reeked. That much was true. She needed a bath, but that was hardly her reason for agreeing to this foolishness. She stepped into the tub. The temperature was perfect. She wouldn’t have suspected Cormick for a lady’s maid.
    The water slipped steadily up her body. It was almost tempting to relax, to let the warmth soothe her frazzled nerves, but of course she had no time for that. She had been less cautious than her situation warranted, true. She had made a misstep, had lost her