you, Christoph, but the moment your head touched that pillow last night, you were fast asleep. You didn't even stir once when I undressed you, and that was no easy task, as big and heavy as you are. A cannon could have gone off in this room, and you wouldn't have—"
"I get the idea," he grouched. "Bloody hell, I drank that much?"
She nodded with a grin. "You really are quite funny deep in your cups. You don't slur your speech. You don't stagger or sway in your movements. You don't appear intoxicated at all. But the things you say—I really doubt you would say them if you had a clear mind."
"Such as?"
"Oh, such as when you told me I would never dance again. So silly, of course I will—whenever you ask me to. And when you tossed me up onto your horse and told me to stay there while you killed Nicolai."
His eyes widened. "I didn't, did I?"
''No, you got distracted, trying to find a weapon in one of your pockets, then finally couldn't remember what you were looking for."
He grimaced. "Never again. If I ever see another bottle of rum, I'll—"
"Yes, I know, you'll break it over your head before you drink it."
"I wouldn't go that far."
She chuckled. "I didn't think so, but that is what you said last night."
The sound of her humor again stirred him. He pulled her farther up his chest, so that her mouth was within reach of his. His eyes locked with hers. He had no doubt she would recognize the desire she could see in his.
"So we haven't made love yet?" he said huskily.
"No, nor will we," she said matter-of-factly, "not until I rid you of that awful headache I know you are suffering. When I make love to you, Christoph, I want you to feel only pleasure. I did not exaggerate when I told you I was skilled at healing. The knowledge of herb lore has been in my family for many generations. This will not take long."
He was beset by several different emotions at once, hotter desire when she spoke of making love to him, acute disappointment when she left the bed, abrupt awe as he was treated to a full view of her nakedness.
She behaved as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do, to walk about unclothed. Not a bit of self-consciousness or embarrassment did she show. Nor was she proudly flaunting that luscious body before him, though she certainly had reason to. She simply went to a cloth satchel that was hers, rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for, then looked about the room until she spotted what else she needed—glasses and several decanters, one that was replenished with fresh water each day.
She opened each decanter to sniff it, then, surprising, chose the brandy to sprinkle some crushed herbs into. Stirring it briskly with her finger, which she then sucked clean, much to Christopher's horror—what that did to his already stiff condition was quite painful—she came back to the bed and handed him the glass.
There was barely a half inch of the golden spirits in the glass, made murky, though, by the powdered herb, which had him staring at it with a frown. "Why the brandy rather than the water?"
"Because the cure isn't very pleasant tasting, and the brandy will mask the taste. Drink it. You will feel much better in only, oh, fifteen minutes or so. Just enough time for me to take a quick bath."
The thought of her in his large tub had him gulping down her concoction to set it aside. "I'll join you—if you don't mind."
"I don't mind." She smiled down at him. "If you will promise to keep your hands to yourself until you are feeling no more pain."
He sighed. "Never mind, I'll suffer here—er, wait here for you."
She nodded, leaned over to kiss his brow, then paused to whisper by his ear, "Good things come to those who wait, Christoph."
It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to her that his name wasn't that foreign-sounding Christoph, but he chose instead to savor the sight of those magnificent breasts that had come so close to
"I get the idea," he grouched. "Bloody hell, I drank that much?"
She nodded with a grin. "You really are quite funny deep in your cups. You don't slur your speech. You don't stagger or sway in your movements. You don't appear intoxicated at all. But the things you say—I really doubt you would say them if you had a clear mind."
"Such as?"
"Oh, such as when you told me I would never dance again. So silly, of course I will—whenever you ask me to. And when you tossed me up onto your horse and told me to stay there while you killed Nicolai."
His eyes widened. "I didn't, did I?"
''No, you got distracted, trying to find a weapon in one of your pockets, then finally couldn't remember what you were looking for."
He grimaced. "Never again. If I ever see another bottle of rum, I'll—"
"Yes, I know, you'll break it over your head before you drink it."
"I wouldn't go that far."
She chuckled. "I didn't think so, but that is what you said last night."
The sound of her humor again stirred him. He pulled her farther up his chest, so that her mouth was within reach of his. His eyes locked with hers. He had no doubt she would recognize the desire she could see in his.
"So we haven't made love yet?" he said huskily.
"No, nor will we," she said matter-of-factly, "not until I rid you of that awful headache I know you are suffering. When I make love to you, Christoph, I want you to feel only pleasure. I did not exaggerate when I told you I was skilled at healing. The knowledge of herb lore has been in my family for many generations. This will not take long."
He was beset by several different emotions at once, hotter desire when she spoke of making love to him, acute disappointment when she left the bed, abrupt awe as he was treated to a full view of her nakedness.
She behaved as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do, to walk about unclothed. Not a bit of self-consciousness or embarrassment did she show. Nor was she proudly flaunting that luscious body before him, though she certainly had reason to. She simply went to a cloth satchel that was hers, rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for, then looked about the room until she spotted what else she needed—glasses and several decanters, one that was replenished with fresh water each day.
She opened each decanter to sniff it, then, surprising, chose the brandy to sprinkle some crushed herbs into. Stirring it briskly with her finger, which she then sucked clean, much to Christopher's horror—what that did to his already stiff condition was quite painful—she came back to the bed and handed him the glass.
There was barely a half inch of the golden spirits in the glass, made murky, though, by the powdered herb, which had him staring at it with a frown. "Why the brandy rather than the water?"
"Because the cure isn't very pleasant tasting, and the brandy will mask the taste. Drink it. You will feel much better in only, oh, fifteen minutes or so. Just enough time for me to take a quick bath."
The thought of her in his large tub had him gulping down her concoction to set it aside. "I'll join you—if you don't mind."
"I don't mind." She smiled down at him. "If you will promise to keep your hands to yourself until you are feeling no more pain."
He sighed. "Never mind, I'll suffer here—er, wait here for you."
She nodded, leaned over to kiss his brow, then paused to whisper by his ear, "Good things come to those who wait, Christoph."
It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to her that his name wasn't that foreign-sounding Christoph, but he chose instead to savor the sight of those magnificent breasts that had come so close to
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