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handfuls and splashed it over her belly and breasts.
Douglas let out a blissful sigh, and picked up the soap and
sponge.
    The door opened. Greystoke hadn’t disappeared
for long. He closed the distance between them. He carried a towel
and a white linen shirt. “I have no female garments, Firebrand, but
you don’t seem to mind male attire.”
    She slid down as low as she could in the tub,
proving that she was both intimidated and inhibited. She clutched
the sponge to her breasts like a protective shield.
    “Douglas, surely by now you know I won’t harm
you?”
    “Are you telling me I can trust you?”
    “Good God, I wouldn’t go that far!”
    “You arrogant devil. Turn your eyes away,
while I finish bathing.”
    “Not a chance.” His gaze licked over her,
missing no detail. “You are extremely lovely to look at. But for
me, that isn’t your main attraction.”
    His words so intrigued her, she forgot to
clutch the sponge.
    “It is your pride and confidence. It makes
you incandescent. I’ve never seen a woman who seemed more alive,
Firebrand.” He reached down and took the sponge, then he moved
behind her, lifted her hair, and soaped her back. “Your bravado is
irresistible, and your innocence draws me like a siren’s song.”
    “The water cools.”
    “My blood heats.”
    “Step away, or I’ll rake my nails down your
face!”
    He chuckled. “Feisty little Scot.” He held
out the towel.
    Her eyes widened. “You are baiting me.”
    He grinned. “And you are rising to the
bait.”
    She did rise. Like Venus from the sea. She
deliberately drenched him with the water. She grabbed the towel,
and Greystoke grabbed her. She was panting with anger and
indignation, and she struggled in his powerful arms like a wildcat.
She soon realized that fighting him was useless. He was far too
strong. She stilled, and to her amazement, he set her feet to the
carpet.
    “I think we’ve succeeded in banishing your
chill and warming your blood. Dry yourself and put on my shirt. I
hope you enjoyed the tussle as much as I did.” He removed his
soaking wet shirt, and reached for her towel.
    Douglas stepped back quickly before he could
snatch the towel and render her naked.
    “How dare you?” she demanded. “‘Tis said the
Scots are uncivilized, but I warrant they have nothing on
Englishmen. I expected a chivalrous nobleman, not a savage
barbarian!”
    “Thankless little bitch. I’ve rescued you,
fed you, warmed you, and bathed you.” Anger darkened his eyes as he
towered above her.
    She tossed her head, and her fiery tresses
tumbled about her naked shoulders. “And for that you expect me to
lick your boots! Not in your lifetime, Englishman!”
    Greystoke grabbed her and took possession of
her mouth with his. His arms held her captive against his bare
muscular chest. Heat leaped between them, as he kissed her deeply.
The firm pressure of his lips gentled as she stopped struggling,
and she gave herself up to his mastery.
    A delicious feeling of pleasure swept Douglas
from her mouth to her mons. It was all new and exciting. She had
challenged his manhood, and he had risen to the occasion. She could
feel his hard cock against her soft flesh, and felt exhilaration at
the power she had over him. He was the captor and she the captive,
but suddenly she wanted to turn the tables on him. She opened her
lips, and felt a surge of sensuality when his tongue thrust into
the intimate, wet, dark cave of her mouth.
    She let go of the towel, went up on her toes,
slid her arms about his neck, and pressed her full breasts against
his powerful chest. His overt masculinity made her feel deliciously
feminine. She felt his mouth release hers, and his lips brushed a
gentle kiss on her eyelids.
    She let out a shuddering breath. “It seems
opposites have a fatal attraction.”
    “Nay,” he murmured against her temple. “This
is like calling to like.”
    Douglas immediately acknowledged the truth of
his words.
    Greystoke stripped off his leather