The idea startled her. She was now simply another one of the women Adrian Rohan had bedded. Part of a vast number, no doubt, and easily forgotten. By the next time she saw him he'd have moved on to someone else and forgotten all about her. After all, how could he keep track. . . ?
"Are you going to just stand there or would you like a bath?” He sounded surprisingly patient, almost amused.
She glanced over at the tub. It was huge—and steam was rising in wafts over the cloth-draped sides. "I'm waiting for you to leave. "
"We're locked in again. I'm not going anywhere. "
"I'm not sure I quite believe in these locks of yours. "
He gestured toward the door, his grip on her sheet loosening, and she felt it begin to descend. "See for yourself," he offered as she quickly gathered the falling material back around her body.
"I'm not going to take off this sheet in front of you. "
"Modesty," he said with a sigh. "Such a wasted value. What if I promise to keep my back turned?"
"Why should I believe you?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
That silenced her. Indeed, why shouldn't she? It wasn't as if he'd made any effort to touch her, to kiss her, to continue the seduction of the night before. Though come to think of it, once you'd been bedded was seduction even an issue anymore?
"Turn your back," she said in a grumpy voice.
"Will you fall at my feet?"
She stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment. She'd already fallen at his feet, handed herself over. . . oh, he was talking literally, not metaphorically.
"No," she said shortly.
His lids were drooping lazily over his blue eyes, and his smile was small and polite before he released her, turning his back to sit at the little table, addressing himself to the tray of food.
She moved to the side of the tub quickly, dropped the sheet on the floor and slid in. The water was blissfully hot, scented with roses, and her moan of delight was out before she realized it.
The sound caught his attention and he turned to look at her, a cup of coffee in his hand.
"You promised not to look," she shrieked and sank lower in the bath.
"I most certainly did not. I believe my exact words were. 'What if I promise to turn my back?' You said you wouldn't believe me, so I didn't bother making that promise. " He hitched the chair around so that it was facing her, and his eyes were alight with amusement. "You should know better than to trust me. "
"You're right," she said in a cranky voice. "Just go away, will you? If you can't leave, then go lie down and pull the curtains and let me enjoy my bath in peace. "
"You could always turn your back on me. "
Good point. Sinking lower, she managed to shift around so that her back was to him, enabling her to rise enough to let her head rest at the edge of the oval-shaped tub. She closed her eyes, and this time she managed to keep the sheer, sensual delight to herself. She heard him moving around behind her, but she ignored him. She'd never seen such a large tub in her life, and it astonished her that she hadn't heard it being filled this morning. But then, she'd been exhausted, sleeping more soundly than she had in months. Sleep had always been an elusive commodity in her life—there were always too many things to think about, too many things to do.
She wasn't going to think about why she slept so well. If it needed that to make her sleep then she was doomed to a lifetime of insomnia.
She leaned back in the tub, spreading her legs slightly, letting the warm water soothe her there. She had a strange memory of Adrian washing her, but that clearly was a dream. The only reason he might have done so was that he was too fastidious to have her again, and after the initial event he hadn't attempted a repeat. So much for magnificent experiences. The steam was rising around her face, and she knew her hair would become even curlier, the bane of her existence, but there was nothing she could do about it. She lifted her arm out of the water. It was faintly pink, but she could still see the smattering of freckles across her shoulder. Had he really called them flakes of gold? Or was that another dream?
He was moving around in the room behind her, doing something, but she wasn't going to think about that. She was going to concentrate on the blissful feel of the warm water moving around her, soothing her, delighting her.
"You're humming. " His voice came from somewhere behind her, sounding slightly muffled.
She immediately stopped. She didn't try to deny it – it was a source of embarrassment.
"It's an unfortunate habit of mine. " Despite the lascivious delight of the water she managed to find some semblance of her stiff little voice. "I tend to hum when I'm enjoying something. When I'm eating something particularly delicious, when I'm taking a bath, when I'm walking in the countryside. "
"I'll have to keep that in mind. " His voice was no longer muffled. "You hum when you're particularly pleased with life. "