The Sorceress of Belmair by Bertrice Small Page B

“Lovers like to bathe together, and it is time you became lovers. He is the king, and he is your husband. That is not likely to change. This is a good way for you to become better acquainted with one another. You have not lain with him since the joining. You will cause gossip if you continue to behave like a skittish doe with her first buck.”
    “In the hall before the meal…” Cinnia began.
    “He took you for a little joggity-jog,” Anke said. “I know.”
    “You know?” The girl’s cheeks grew red.
    “As soon as the servant entering the hall saw, she withdrew and warned the others not to disturb you,” Anke said in matter-of-fact tones. “She heard your cries as he was spanking you, and hurried to aid you, but saw you needed nothing, and did not require any rescue,” Anke finished. “He’s a fine man, mistress, and should give you great pleasures if you will let him.” She quickly drew off Cinnia’s silk gown and chemise. Then sitting her mistress down, she brushed her long black hair out and pinned it up. “Come along now,” she said, leading Cinnia brisky from her chamber to the bath chamber.
    “I’ll leave you a night garment on the chair by the fire so it may warm. You may want it later, mistress. Ah, here we are!” Anke flung open the door to the bath chamber. Warm, moist steam billowed out into the small corridor. “I bid you good-night, mistress!”
    Gently the serving woman pushed Cinnia through into the room and shut the door behind her quietly.
    Cinnia stood silently for a long moment. The door behind her opened again, and turning she saw Dillon step through. Oh my! Cinnia thought as she looked at him naked. The joining had been such a tumultuous affair she really had not gotten a good look at him. She saw now that he had a big body, but it was proportioned properly.
    Broad chest. Narrow hips. Long, shapely legs. He turned briefly to shut the door behind him. His buttocks were lovely. Nicely rounded, firm, and she had the most incredible urge to fondle them with her hands. Cinnia’s cheeks grew warm with her lascivious thoughts; and when he turned back to her he grinned. Her cheeks grew hotter. Could he know what she had been thinking? It was untenable! “Stop that!” she commanded him. “It is not polite to intrude upon others’ thoughts, my lord.”
    He walked across the room and, reaching her, smiled down into her eyes. “I want to hear you call me by name, Cinnia.”
    “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met, Dillon, ” she answered.
    He grinned again. “I probably am,” he agreed. “The result of my exalted pedigree, my queen. Now, let us bathe each other.”
    The bathing chamber consisted of several small rooms. In the first, two indentations in the shape of shells had been imprinted into the marble floor. A gold spigot, fashioned like an openmouthed fish, sprang from the wall bordering each of these recesses in the floor. Faintly scented lukewarm water poured from them. Next to each shell was a small table upon which rested a large sea sponge and a round, flat dish of thickened soft soap bearing the same fragrance as the water.
    She found herself quickly over her shyness regarding their nudity. She stole a quick look at his maleness. She was hardly familiar with the masculine body, but she doubted his manhood would be called insufficient by any standards. And if she was to admit it to herself he had indeed given her pleasure in the joining. It was that that most disturbed her. They were barely acquainted and she had enjoyed it. What did that say about her? Belmairans did not have the easy morals of Hetarians. Cinnia stepped into the shell.
    “Now it is your brow that furrows,” Dillon said to her, and he directed the spigot head to wet her body.
    “Are you invading my thoughts?” she said sharply.
    “You asked me not to, and so I am not,” Dillon answered her. “I would know what troubles you, Cinnia. Can you put it into easy words, or would you prefer I