the . . . brush," she quavered.
"Yes, mademoiselle, the brush if you please," Alex soothingly replied. "I promise not to hurt." The double entendre further stiffened his erection. He lost a little of his sangfroid and shifted unobtrusively.
Why had he ever been so rash as to promise not to touch her? Given her desperate circumstance, he could have struck any bargain he pleased with her. What a fool he'd been to be so charitable; such careless impetuosity was the result of being exceedingly drunk. Had he been sober, he would have been considerably more hardhearted. Christ, she was penniless and homeless, prey to any adventurer and blackguard, and what did he do?—made some goddamn noble gesture that necessitated this charade. Devil take it! Five minutes, he fulminated silently. I'll give her five minutes more, and if she hasn't fallen into my arms, integrity be damned! I'll rape her. He was amazed and disconcerted with the attendant consequences of his careless generosity on the train. Normally it wasn't his way to disturb himself over anything. His principles had always been lax, and now he was envisioning rape. Whimsically he considered the absurdity of noble gestures.
Zena handed the hairbrush over compliantly. Grasping her gently by the shoulders, Alex turned the young woman around so that her back was presented to him. He lightly brushed the long waves, stopping occasionally to undo some knotted curls.
Zena was quite sure it wasn't altogether appropriate that the prince be here brushing her hair when she was in such a state of dishabille, but he seemed to have come out of concern for her long absence. Maybe St. Petersburg's country manners were more relaxed, allowing casual encounters like this without the censure of impropriety. In any event his fingers were very gentle, and the long, slow brush strokes were soothingly pleasurable. She shut her eyes contendedly and smiled happily.
The prince noted the long, dark lashes lower with felicitous gratification. "Pardon, mademoiselle," Alex murmured. "This may pull a bit; a very stubborn tangle." Bending near, his warm breath touched her cheek, sending shocks down her spine as he pushed her long curls aside. His brown fingers lightly touched the back of her neck to untangle the snarl. At his touch Zena shivered as a hot glow began to spread. The prince's smile deepened. The tension of the long day in his presence, the soothing warmth of the sauna, and the delicate feel of those long, lean fingers served to kindle Zena's desire. Her slowly awakening senses made her want to touch the powerful, masculine body as she had wished to do a hundred times that day. Every quivering sensation in her body yearned for the seductively magnetic nobleman while he blandly and coolly, with a civil cordiality, resumed brushing her hair. This piqued and provoked her. With a woman's perversity she wanted him to desire her. Did he feel no attraction to her? Was she less appealing then mon ange of the previous evening? Had he found her wanting in their encounter on the train to Moscow? His eyes minutes ago had seemed to speak an ardent message, or in her own confusion was she misreading the expression.
Taking exception to the prince's disinterest with a deep-seated womanly umbrage, Zena in a thoroughly feminine volte-face lifted limpid, deep blue eyes and, staring straight at the prince's face in the mirror before her, said in a lightly teasing way, "Is it only a host's duty, my lord, that prompts your kindness?"
Bestowing an extremely penetrating stare on the young damsel, the prince murmured, "Would you have it otherwise?"
"A soft blush followed by a delightful confusion struck the flustered mademoiselle, telling him quite clearly they understood each other. He expelled a soft sigh of relief. Zena had made the first move. Thank God, for his composure had been near to cracking. Standing a hairbreadth away from an all but nude beauty in the privacy of a dimly lit sauna without grasping the
"Yes, mademoiselle, the brush if you please," Alex soothingly replied. "I promise not to hurt." The double entendre further stiffened his erection. He lost a little of his sangfroid and shifted unobtrusively.
Why had he ever been so rash as to promise not to touch her? Given her desperate circumstance, he could have struck any bargain he pleased with her. What a fool he'd been to be so charitable; such careless impetuosity was the result of being exceedingly drunk. Had he been sober, he would have been considerably more hardhearted. Christ, she was penniless and homeless, prey to any adventurer and blackguard, and what did he do?—made some goddamn noble gesture that necessitated this charade. Devil take it! Five minutes, he fulminated silently. I'll give her five minutes more, and if she hasn't fallen into my arms, integrity be damned! I'll rape her. He was amazed and disconcerted with the attendant consequences of his careless generosity on the train. Normally it wasn't his way to disturb himself over anything. His principles had always been lax, and now he was envisioning rape. Whimsically he considered the absurdity of noble gestures.
Zena handed the hairbrush over compliantly. Grasping her gently by the shoulders, Alex turned the young woman around so that her back was presented to him. He lightly brushed the long waves, stopping occasionally to undo some knotted curls.
Zena was quite sure it wasn't altogether appropriate that the prince be here brushing her hair when she was in such a state of dishabille, but he seemed to have come out of concern for her long absence. Maybe St. Petersburg's country manners were more relaxed, allowing casual encounters like this without the censure of impropriety. In any event his fingers were very gentle, and the long, slow brush strokes were soothingly pleasurable. She shut her eyes contendedly and smiled happily.
The prince noted the long, dark lashes lower with felicitous gratification. "Pardon, mademoiselle," Alex murmured. "This may pull a bit; a very stubborn tangle." Bending near, his warm breath touched her cheek, sending shocks down her spine as he pushed her long curls aside. His brown fingers lightly touched the back of her neck to untangle the snarl. At his touch Zena shivered as a hot glow began to spread. The prince's smile deepened. The tension of the long day in his presence, the soothing warmth of the sauna, and the delicate feel of those long, lean fingers served to kindle Zena's desire. Her slowly awakening senses made her want to touch the powerful, masculine body as she had wished to do a hundred times that day. Every quivering sensation in her body yearned for the seductively magnetic nobleman while he blandly and coolly, with a civil cordiality, resumed brushing her hair. This piqued and provoked her. With a woman's perversity she wanted him to desire her. Did he feel no attraction to her? Was she less appealing then mon ange of the previous evening? Had he found her wanting in their encounter on the train to Moscow? His eyes minutes ago had seemed to speak an ardent message, or in her own confusion was she misreading the expression.
Taking exception to the prince's disinterest with a deep-seated womanly umbrage, Zena in a thoroughly feminine volte-face lifted limpid, deep blue eyes and, staring straight at the prince's face in the mirror before her, said in a lightly teasing way, "Is it only a host's duty, my lord, that prompts your kindness?"
Bestowing an extremely penetrating stare on the young damsel, the prince murmured, "Would you have it otherwise?"
"A soft blush followed by a delightful confusion struck the flustered mademoiselle, telling him quite clearly they understood each other. He expelled a soft sigh of relief. Zena had made the first move. Thank God, for his composure had been near to cracking. Standing a hairbreadth away from an all but nude beauty in the privacy of a dimly lit sauna without grasping the
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