I felt Rogue raise his head and I opened my eyes to find his, dark Pacific blue, nearly black and swimming deep. The three-three beat of his heart pounded in counterpoint to mine.
“You promised to flirt, Gwynn. This feels like resistance.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that I hate you with all my heart?”
“But I know you don’t.”
I had no response to that. Except to open that little door between us and let him feel the hot rush of it.
Rogue closed his eyes, as if savoring a fine wine. “The strength of your passion is enough for me. It’s connection enough for what I need from you. And—” he opened his eyes again, spearing me with their blue blaze, “—you are now failing the terms of our bargain. Which means you will owe me a forfeit. Are you prepared for that?”
“Oh no—we didn’t define the terms of the bargain. You failed to define flirting. And,” I repeated myself in measured tones, “we haven’t dealt with Darling yet.”
“Observe, darling Gwynn.”
His eyes darkened and I felt something gather in the air around us, like an electrical storm of the navy-black energy I’d pulled from the lily. I could taste Rogue’s magic in the air. I craned my neck to see Darling. With a subaudible chime, the topazes poofed into amber smoke, the armor following suit. Darling sat up, shook himself and meowed at Rogue.
“No—the lovely Lady Gwynn has paid for it. Now leave us so I can collect.”
Darling sent me a salacious image, but it felt tired. He sauntered out of the tent, all dignity, his tail drooping slightly.
“Perhaps I should—”
“Pay attention to your bargain with me? Yes. Anything else to deal with—regarding Darling, of course?”
I tried to think of something, shifted a bit to see if Rogue would release his grip, but it was like being held by granite. Really warm, satin granite.
Giddy relief that Darling was okay surged through me. My blood heated at the press of Rogue’s lithe muscled body. This was not good at all. “I could think better if you’d let me go.”
“No. Darling questions now or we…move on.”
Okay then. I tried to divorce my mind. Focus on what I needed to know.
“Why didn’t Darling know the stones were enchanted? He talked me into using them.”
“If Darling were perspicacious enough to avoid such traps, he wouldn’t be a cat now.”
“You mean he’s not really a cat—he’s a man? Or a faerie, I mean?”
“Both. Anything else?”
“Why wasn’t the spell in the necklace nullified when I transformed it into armor?”
“Because you’re an amateur. You didn’t properly stabilize the spell so it would stay itself.”
“Oh.” How interesting. “Like your chamber pots. How do you do that?”
Rogue’s eyes gleamed with an acquisitive light. “I could teach you—for a price.”
“Sorry, I’m clearly already in debt up to my eyeballs.”
Rogue nipped my ear lobe lightly. “You’re stalling. Do we have anything else to ‘deal’ with, in your estimation?”
“Define flirting.”
“It was your own offer—you define it.”
I frowned at him. “I can’t think in this position.”
“That would be your problem.”
“Acting like you’re interested in someone…romantically.”
“I can accept that.” Rogue trailed his lips along my cheek. “I look forward to your interest in me.”
“How could you do it?” I whispered. “Send me to that…place.”
“That is not a question about Darling.”
I caught his gaze. “Nevertheless, I need to know.”
“I told you. Not everything is within my power, lovely Gwynn. I knew you would survive it. And that you would come out stronger. I did what I could to make the terms bearable.”
“You made sure they couldn’t actually use me—sexually.”
“Yes.” He nearly growled the word. “That is only for me. I long for you. Let me have you.”
His eyes burned with an intensity I couldn’t face. I looked away and wiggled the fingers of my right hand. “My hand is falling asleep.”
“Pity. I’ll have to rub it for you.” He slid his body sinuously along mine in demonstration. My nipples chafed and peaked. Rogue’s eyes roved down to where the straight neckline of my dress threatened to drag too low. He tightened the arm around my waist, lifting me up a bit, which only pulled the dress lower. He bent, placing a trailing kiss along my bosom. I dragged in a breath, trying to still my response.
“This isn’t flirting,” I gasped out.
“What do you call it?” he asked lazily, as a lock of his hair fell across my breast, stark against the white curve.
I held back a whimper as his tongue dipped below the fabric dangerously close to a nipple. Longing surged through me.
“I don’t agree to this. I agreed to flirting, nothing more.”
Rogue chuckled and raised his head. With a heated stare at my breasts pushing above the top of my dress, he placed a last kiss just over my heart.
And set me on my feet. He watched me with close interest while I pulled the fabric back into place. He cocked his head when I set to massaging the feeling back into my hand.
“Shall I help?”
“No thanks. No more touching.”
“Flirting means no touching to you?”
“Correct.”
“I want touching. To me, flirting involves some touching. It’s not acting as if you’re interested otherwise.”
“That would be your problem,” I quipped back, all sweetness.
“Okay, we can void the agreement and I’ll proceed as I wish—you don’t seem to be very good at fighting me off.”
Humiliating but true. Though I didn’t think he’d rape me, I could tell by the need already throbbing through me that I wouldn’t resist him forever if he made a concerted effort. I hated him—why wasn’t that helping? Instead I felt alive and alert. Stimulated. And by more than just the foreplay. I enjoyed the banter. He’s not your friend, I reminded myself.
“Limited touching. No lips, no…body parts.”
His lips quirked at my unwillingness to name the parts.
“Some body parts, surely—hands?”
“One hand only,” I allowed grudgingly. “Outside the clothes.”
“And any publicly exposed skin,” he qualified.
I didn’t like it, but I thought it might be the best deal I’d get.
“Agreed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
In Which I Fulfill One Bargain
We stood there, glowing pillows scattered at our feet. Rogue quirked a gloss-black eyebrow at me. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to flirt with me now?”
“I really hate to tell you this, Rogue, but you’re barking up the wrong skirt here—I’m a lab rat from way back. I’ve dated exactly three men in my life and have absolutely no idea how to flirt.”
He sighed expressively, then held out his elegant hands in a palms-up gesture. “What shall we do? You promised flirting.” His eyes fell on the full bathtub. “You could take your bath and I’ll watch.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It would be a flirtatious thing to do…”
“It would be exhibitionism on my part and voyeurism on yours. Besides which, I am not stupid enough to add to the skin that’s already publicly exposed.”
“But your feet are dirty.”
He was right. Dust and mud mixed with unmentionable fluids caked my toes and spattered up my legs from my run through the camp. Ick.
While Rogue watched with gr
eat interest I walked over and stepped into the tub, holding my skirt up out of the water and shivering at the tepid temperature. Bunching the fabric carefully between my legs, I sat on the uncomfortable narrow rim and began scrubbing.
Rogue piled up a few pillows, smacking them to his desired brightness and arranged himself as if for viewing a show. He peeled off his leather boots and, reaching back, he pulled the tie off his tail of hair, releasing it to spill around him. He looked like a raven Viking, all masculine cheekbones and streaming hair, his bare feet as long and elegant as his hands.
“Tug the skirt up higher,” he suggested, “and blow me a kiss.”
“No.”
“It would be a mild flirtation and you’ve yet to do anything that qualifies as vaguely flirtatious.”
I tugged my skirt up a grudging inch and pursed my lips at him.
His eyes flared. “Is the water warm enough for you? I could heat it up.”
“So can I,” I retorted and wished it a little warmer. “Rogue, we need to talk.”
“No, no, no.” He waggled a long finger at me. “That’s anti-flirtation. ‘We need to talk’ is the death of romance. I don’t think you’re taking this bargain seriously. I’m close to crying foul.”
A smile curved his lips, but his eyes were deadly intent. I tried to think up something flirtatious.
“Surely a big, strong, handsome man like you wouldn’t take advantage of little ol’ me,” I fluttered with a peachy accent.
“Amazing. You really are bad at this.”
I stood, clutching the fabric balled in my lap. “Look, Rogue…”
As I moved to step out of the tub, he was there in a flash, holding my hand to help me balance. One hand only, I noticed.
“Oh, believe me, I am looking,” he assured me. “You are lovelier than ever, saucy Gwynn.” He let go of my hand to run his fingers over my hair. “Come, sit with me. I’ll teach you how to flirt, as I’ve taught you so much else.”
“Barely an ounce of what I need to know,” I grumbled, but allowed him to help lower me to some pillows when he gave me a significant look. I stretched out on my side, propped up on one elbow.
He stood over me. “Observe.” He swept his hands in a grand flourish and presented me with a flower. Another Stargazer lily—if anything, larger, sweeter and more intensely blue in the throat than the first had been. “Now, when a gentleman gives a lady a gift, to evince interest in him, she might trail it along her cheek to show him how lovely it feels against her skin, to give him ideas of how he might touch her.”
He sank down onto the pillows, not close enough to touch, eyes intent on me, glowing bluer than the blossom. There was no harm in playing this game, theoretically. Unable to tear my eyes from his, I inhaled the fragrance, then brushed the velvet petals along my cheek. The light flared in his eyes and, emboldened, I trailed the flower down my throat to brush with exquisite delicacy over the upper curves of my breasts.
“Very well done.” His voice sounded a bit hoarse.
“This seems more like seduction to me.” My voice had a whiskey quality, too.
“Oh yes,” he murmured, easing himself to lie down to face me, mirroring my pose, but still not too close. “Flirtation is seduction with clothes on, sex without sex, back and forth. You are ravishingly seductive, Lady Gwynn.”
“You just want me for my eggs,” I teased.
“I plan to enjoy much more than that on my way to them.”
“Why me?” I asked softly. Just as I’d asked the Black Dog.
“Never question a man’s desires, Gwynn. Especially when he’s flirting with you.” He slipped the lily out of my hand and laid it between us, then lifted my fingers in his, rubbing his thumb over them lightly. “I should never have agreed to no lips.”
“It’s not your fault,” I offered generously. “You were outwitted.”
“Is that what happened?” He stared at me, burning blue. Then laid my hand back on the flower and leaned over to trace my cheek. Then down my throat, following the path of the lily. I held my breath as he stroked over the upper curves of my bosom. “Much can be done with one hand, Gwynn.” His sensitive fingertips trailed over the cotton of my dress, circling my breast. A breath shuddered out of me and I closed my eyes. “Watch, Gwynn,” he whispered, “see how you want me, too.”
His fingers, pale against my dress, gracefully swirled over my breast. Ever smaller circles, until they brushed over the painfully hard point of my nipple. I nearly convulsed in response, a sharp cry escaping my lips. I started to pull back, but his fingers closed on my nipple through the fabric.
“Resisting, Gwynn? Will you deny me what you granted?”
“Oh, please…” I whimpered, but held myself still.
“What do you plead for?” he asked, massaging the nipple with his clever fingertips.
My head spun thick and sweet. My elbow seemed to collapse and I laid my head down. I couldn’t form a response. I did want him. To my great peril.
Rogue released my nipple to resume his circling, moving to include the other breast now offered up as I lay back. I gazed blurrily at the night sky through the open flaps above, until his face moved over mine. Propped on his elbow still, he watched me, seeming to drink me in. Jet-black hair, glinting navy and rose from the pillows, fell around his face, shadowing it. A few long locks fell across the hand lying by my side. I surreptitiously wound them around my fingers, clutching at the silk of them. It reminded me not to reach up and wrap my arms around him.
I was pushing my breast into his hand now, fighting the overwhelming urge to spread my legs just a little. It had to be hardwired into women’s brains—enough arousal and we wanted to open right up. Nothing like making it easy for them.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I gritted out.
“Did I ask?” He sounded amused. He also never stopped teasing my breast. “Though if you wish to cry off the bargain, I’d be happy to oblige you.”
I was going to explode, but I didn’t think I could actually climax this way. Only endless buildup. My vision reddened and I clutched at the pillows beneath me. I should have taken my chances with fighting him off. Allowing this was unbearable.
“I can’t take any more.”
“Oh, I think you can. We’ve only just started, lovely Gwynn.” He breathed along my cheek, not quite touching his lips to me. “Do you wish to cry off?”
I moaned in despair.
“Is that a yes?” Rogue watched me, the lines of his face seeming to oscillate in the light. Maybe that was my own frantic pulse, pounding through the fragile vessels of my retinas.
“No,” I gasped, then whimpered when he increased the pressure on one breast, the pleasure keen as pain. I realized it was my left breast, Falcon’s bite marks throbbing anew under the stimulus, the pain flaring up. “You’re hurting me, Rogue.”
He frowned but lightened his touch. “Why? That shouldn’t hurt.”
I tried to sit up, but he held me still, searching my eyes. I looked away uncomfortably.
“Tell me Gwynn. Now.”
I felt a nudging against my thoughts, so I gave him the image of Falcon bending over me, his razor teeth sinking into me. Vastly easier than describing it.
“He took a taste of you?” Rogue’s voice was eerily calm, devoid of emotion. He ran his hand lightly over my breast. “Let me see.”
I sat up, clasping the fabric to my chest. “Absolutely not.”
“Think of me as a healer—I need to see if it’s okay.” Something glinted in his eyes, however. Anything I uncovered would fall under the “exposed areas portion” of our agreement. I didn’t want to find out how I’d respond to him touching my bare flesh, if the fabric-muffled version had been so intense.
“No, it’s healing fine. I can tell that much.”
He studied me fo
r a moment, then sighed, resigned. That was too easy. He looked too relaxed, too at ease. He radiated satisfaction, not the frustration of a man denied. It appeared Falcon’s trick had at least gotten me out of this snare, but Rogue had something else up his sleeve.
“It’s late and you need to sleep. We can continue tomorrow.” He gathered his hair into the tail again. “Take your bath and get your dress washed—the dragon blood is a little much.”
I watched him, trying to crank my thinking back into gear. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”
“Why, my lovely Gwynn—more flirting!” Rogue gave me a wicked smile and lightly tugged on my hair where it spilled over one shoulder.
“Wait…” Geez, I seriously needed to clear my head. Rogue looked suspiciously alert and unaffected by our little tryst. “More flirting? I didn’t agree to more than tonight.”
“In point of fact—” Rogue stood and held up a professorial finger, “—you did not place a time limit on the bargain. You said, and I quote, ‘we can flirt all you want after you deal with Darling.’ It’s still after.”
I stared at him, trying to assemble a coherent argument. I could not go through this all day, every day. I knew myself. I’d cave eventually. An image of myself begging him to take me, promising all sorts of things, asking for that green silk binding, crossed my mind. Like a dose of cold water, it hit me. Here I was, hurtling toward another slavery.
“But,” he allowed in a generous tone of voice, “I’m willing to settle for the standard night and a day. At sunset tomorrow you may return to denying and sniping at me with the bargain fulfilled.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest under the skirt, wrapping my arms around them. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“I might have a battle tomorrow.”
“No.” Rogue shook his head, pulling his boots on. “Falcon and I will be meeting. He can pursue his war later.”
Rogue's Pawn Page 21