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open to reveal the inside curves of her breasts and for a moment all he could do was stare.  His eyes travelled further down, seeing her stomach her thighs and what lay between.  The hands before him were swollen, the raw skin and wounds inflamed.  He refocused on the hands and lifting the key gently unlocked them, opening them and allowing her to pull her hands out at her own speed.  She did so with a hiss her arms sagging when they came free.  He laid the chains to the side refusing to feel remorse for the damage he had done to her.
    He turned back to the Lady and quickly plucked the cloak from her shoulders.  He could no more stop his perusal of her body than he could stop his own breath.  She had the curves of a woman whose hips were ripe for child bearing and her breasts were full and would fit perfectly in his hand.  Her brown eyes glowed as she looked at him, waiting for his next move.
    “The bath is for you,” he said knowing she had caught him looking and he couldn’t help but smile for her body was a pleasure to look upon.  He laughed at her defiance.  She stood before him with her head stubbornly raised a notch and stood proudly as if she let men look at her naked body every day.  When his eyes locked back with hers he saw hate in them.  Her hands extended in front of herself she turned and walked to the tub.  He watched the sway of her hips, the rounded cheeks of her ass he wanted to cup in his hands and feel them lift her weight and settle her in his lap.  He watched her gently step into the tub.  She stood in the water facing him, watching him.  His eyes travelled back over her body, settled on her upper legs, her inner thighs as they opened and she sank down into the water with a groan.  Her breasts were only partially covered by the water as she settled her hands into the steaming liquid.  A hiss escaped between her clinched lips, her eyes tightened closed as she threw her head back to keep from crying out. 
    A knock sounded on the door and Damien bid the knocker enter.  Cyrille crossed the threshold closing the door behind him.  He came forward pulling the gauntlets from his hands but the gray hood he wore remained on as his eyes moved to the tub.  His brother liked the woman in his tub because Damien felt him tense seeing her there.  He did not handle desire or any other emotion that involved another human being well.  The subject of Cyrille’s perusal glared openly at them her hostile stare directed at both men. 
    “How are things?” Damien asked drawing his brother’s attention from the naked woman.
    “The walls are secured…” he began but the knock on the door interrupted him.  Damien bid them enter and the redhead came in carrying a basket and armload of linens.  She hesitated when she saw Cyrille but came further into the chamber. 
    “Put them there,” he pointed to the table at the foot of the large bed.    
    She moved to it and sat her bundle down.  “Will there be anything else my lord?” she asked and her eyes showed she was more than willing to do more for him. 
    “Yes,” he said walking to his brother’s side.  “This is my brother Cyrille and you are to entertain him for the night.”
    “Why does he wear the hood?” she asked wearily and speaking to Damien as if she could just ignore his brother.
    “They hide the scars he received bravely in battle,” Damien replied irritably.
    “Can he speak?” she asked her voice sounded close to panic.
    “I can speak,” his brother’s gravelly voice bit out. 
    The servants face whitened and she shook her head no.  Cyrille moved quickly toward her and grabbed her arm.  Damien did not know if it was an attempt to secure her or to reassure her.  She did the unexpected and grabbed his hood with her free hand and yanked it from his head.  Damien thought she might faint but instead she began screeching uncontrollably then turned and fled the room.  Damien didn’t see the scars so much on his