He was still grinning when he pushed open the door to her chambers. But before he stepped inside, some sixth sense that had saved his life more than once in the past, urged caution. He hesitated before entering, thereby avoiding a violent thrust of movement.
Sabrina sailed harmlessly past him, her right arm extended, a small fruit knife in her hand. He caught her around the waist and lifted her from her feet.
“Put me down, you great oaf,” she yelled.
Unceremoniously, he carried her to the bed and dumped her on the mattress. Before she could spring back up, he flung himself on top of her, pinning her thighs between his and wrists in his hands. She squirmed, but couldn’t twist free.
“Good morning, my slave,” he said, staring into her flashing brown eyes, then pinching her wrist until she released the weapon. “Did you really think you could be rid of me so easily?”
“Obviously not,” she muttered, turning away from him. “It’s a fruit knife, Kardal. I couldn’t have done any serious damage. I was protesting being held prisoner.”
“You could have expressed your displeasure with a sign. Perhaps a small demonstration or a strike.”
“I preferred the knife.”
She spoke through gritted teeth. He fought against a smile. She had attacked him. He respected that in anyone. She’d known she couldn’t possibly best him and that she might make him angry, yet she’d been fearless…if inept.
He drew in a breath and inhaled the sweet scent of her. As he’d left her with no other clothes, she’d been forced to wear the ridiculous harem outfit he’d provided. How she must hate the scanty clothing. And how he enjoyed the sight of her breasts spilling out of the too-tight top.
He found himself wondering what she would taste like and how she would feel under him while they made love. His arousal was instant and insistent. Still, he ignored the throbbing in his groin. Taking a princess, even one who wasn’t a virgin, was not something he could do lightly. There was also the matter of their betrothal. If he had his way with her, he would be sealing the match—something he wasn’t sure he was willing to do.
“You are not a very obedient slave,” he informed her.
She glared up at him, still squirming beneath him. He was surprised she didn’t realize the pleasure he found in her movements.
“You didn’t leave me any instructions,” she said tartly. “Therefore I couldn’t have disobeyed that which I hadn’t been told.”
“Not attacking one’s master is implicit in the slave’s covenant.”
“Not from the slave’s perspective.”
He considered her words, then released her. “You have a point. From this moment onward I will provide you with detailed instructions. I do not wish you to attack me in any way.”
She waited until he stood away from the bed, then she slid off the side and rose. “I’d rather discuss the disobedient part.”
“I’m sure you would. But instead, I would request that you serve me. You need a lesson in subservience.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so.”
He walked to the far wall and pulled a cord hanging there. “I would like a bath.”
She blinked. “You taking a bath is supposed to make me subservient? What? You’re going to make me drink the bathwater or something?”
“No. I’m going to make you bathe me.”
Her eyes widened and color drained from her face. She took a step back, which caused her to bump into the bed. She dropped into a sitting position, then quickly bounced back to her feet.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.”
She opened her mouth again, but didn’t say anything. Kardal studied her startled expression. She couldn’t possibly be as shocked as she seemed. His gaze dropped to the curve of her breasts, then lower to the sweep of her hips and her long, nearly bare legs.
No woman raised as she had been raised, with such an attractive face and body could possibly be innocent. Sabrina thought to play him for a fool. Fine, he thought as there was a knock on the door. He would go along with her game…for as long as it suited him.
Sabrina told herself this wasn’t really happening. No way was she dressed like an Arabian nights call girl, with Kardal insisting that she bathe him. Yet even as she inched her way toward the rear of the room, Adiva appeared in the doorway and nodded as Kardal instructed her to have a bathtub and hot water brought to the room.
It was all so fourteenth century, she thought, unable to believe there really wasn’t running water for bathing in the castle. There had been a surprisingly modern toilet in a small room off her bedroom, but instead of a sink, there had been a basin and a drain, along with some handmade soap. Yesterday, she’d used a tub filled with water brought by several servants.