Chapter 4

 

Anna looked at her hands, gently clasped on her lap, the rich feel of silk a sweetness on her freshly scrubbed body. She had never worn anything so fine as the yellow gown now wrapping her body. She certainly hadn't enjoyed the luxury of a long bath or a quiet afternoon in over a year. She should feel pampered and clean—most especially clean. Instead, she felt unsettled. Not exactly sullied, but not even remotely virtuous.

Fortunately, she was no stranger to guilt and quite adept at ignoring it. She even had the added excuse that she had vowed to do everything possible to survive. What was a little show for the Chinese against her life? If pleasuring herself made her all the more interesting to the voyeuristic Enforcer, then so be it. No guilt. Simple survival.

Except, she hadn't just done it to tantalize the mandarin, who had surely been watching. Why had she done it? Why had she slipped her fingers between her legs and done what every priest had preached against since the church began?

Why had she done it? Because she was about to die. What a fool she was. She should be thinking of a way to survive, to live to tomorrow, no matter what the cost. But in her last hours of life, she had needed to give herself a little pleasure, a moment of ecstasy to savor before it all ended. It made no sense, and yet she hadn't been able to stop herself. She had needed release. She had wanted to feel—if only by her own hand—why life could be so very good. And if her erotic dream had replayed in her mind as she touched herself, then it was only to give form and detail to her last moments of delight.

And now that it was done, she could face death. She didn't even flinch when a cold blade slid across her shoulder, aiming for her throat. She'd felt the breeze when her assailant lifted the tapestry flap to enter the room. She had absolutely heard his harsh breath as he hefted his blade. Someone had come to kill her. And perhaps this was God's punishment for her debauchery.

Or perhaps not. Without conscious thought, she slammed her elbow hard into her attacker's ribs. The knife hadn't quite made it to her neck. And besides, the man—Jing-Li, she now saw—was obviously not used to slitting throats. He didn't have a good grip on her or the knife. She was able to knock the blade away with ease, then twist out of his floundering grip and punch him hard in the chest.

He went reeling back, banged into the tub and fell down. He didn't land flat, which might have been better. At least it would have ended it quickly. Unfortunately, he tried to catch himself. One arm went deep into the water, and his chin banged on the hard wood. His feet were still scrambling for purchase on the wet deck, and he naturally lost his footing. Without his feet to support him, his upper body dropped. His neck caught hard on the edge of the tub and he gurgled in real pain.

She might have helped him. She had not planned to murder the man, simply to disarm him. But his feet were flailing and she could not get close. Within moments, he'd toppled the desk. At least the smooth wood had been empty of ink or brush, but the hard bamboo edge caught her skirt as it overset. Amidst the clatter of the desk and the servant's garbled curses, she heard the ominous sound of fabric ripping. Looking down, she stifled her own curse.

Her skirt was ripped in a long inverted V shape where the edge of the desk had gouged a hole. Now her entire left leg was completely exposed and scraped raw. She wasn't sure which bothered her more.

Light flooded the tiny room as the silk hanging on the door was ripped away. The Enforcer rushed in like an avenging god. She glimpsed his face contorted in fury, his long black queue whipping behind him as he bolted forward. And then he was gone.

He'd fallen flat. In his haste to get to her side, he slipped on the very wet deck and dropped forward. But unlike his servant, he'd gone down neatly, catching himself on his hands in a kind of push-up. He was clearly coordinated, as he held himself there for a moment, reestablishing his poise, then abruptly flipped onto his side and tucked in his knees. Within moments, he had settled his legs beneath him and was completely composed, though his silks were darkening with water.

Then he did the most amazing thing of all. He burst out in laughter, catching his breath only to burst out again. "It is a good thing that you are not an assassin, Jing-Li. I am sure you would starve!" Then he settled back into another hearty laugh.

The servant glared at his master, dark fury tightening his wet features as he managed—finally—to lift his neck off the tub. His throat was red, but his face was more so. Anna had not realized how large his hands were until she saw them tighten into fists. Would he lunge at his master? She very much feared so, especially as the servant whipped his dripping queue away from his face only to have it wrap wetly around his opposite arm. This was a man who lost all coordination when angry. A lumbering bull who would cause indiscriminate damage.

All the while, the Enforcer laughed and laughed, seemingly oblivious to the danger. Anna glanced hurriedly around, searching for the lost knife. She saw it underneath one of the cushions, and she stepped quickly to it, tucking it tightly to her side until such time as she might need it.

The Enforcer noticed, of course. He pointed. "See, Jing-Li," he continued in Chinese. "She is armed now. We are such blunderers that a white nun can overpower us both!"

The servant narrowed his eyes in her direction. He was no longer dripping wet, but his skin remained dark with fury. Anna tightened her grip on the knife, slowly raising it before her. She doubted it would save her life, but it would allow her to cause some damage before other servants came in to overpower her.

She widened her stance and prepared to fight while the Enforcer sobered. The growing quiet seemed to finally affect Jing-Li. He turned to his master and his color began to recede. His lips trembled as if he hovered halfway between mirth and fury. Then the mandarin tipped the scales, leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper.

"What would your aunt say if she saw us now?"

The servant shook his head. "She would say nothing. We would simply be whipped and sent to bed."

"Ah, but what would she say to her ladies?"

Jing-Li grinned. "Every detail."

"With exaggeration."

"I would have nearly drowned—"

"I would have fallen atop you, holding you underwater by accident."

"And the nun would be a blind old woman who couldn't hold a knife with her two palsied hands."

The two descended into mutual laughter that had Anna slowly drawing the knife down into the folds of her skirt. Meanwhile, the servant pushed to his feet then leaned forward to help his master stand.

"You only got what you deserved," the Enforcer commented. "I will not allow you to kill her."

The servant grimaced as he hauled his master up. "You cannot keep her alive. She draws too much attention."

"We can hide her in a palanquin. No one need see her face."

The servant threw up his hands in disgust. "Have you lost your reason? We cannot be saddled with a white woman!" He stepped forward, and his boot was loud on the deck. "Lust has thickened your brain. You can have a dozen women such as her! Han women, white women. Ones with fatter breasts or smaller feet. Whatever you want, but not until Shanghai!"

His tirade ended on a loud exhale. The two men stood face to face, the Enforcer slightly taller, his friend and servant shorter but more powerful. Or at least so it seemed. Except, the more the servant blustered, the taller and more composed the mandarin appeared. His face remained placid, his stance almost casual, but there was no mistaking his power when he finally spoke.

"Have you forgotten that you pose as my servant? Compose your tone."

They spoke in court Chinese—similar to the Mandarin she knew, but more stylized. Clearly they did not think she understood, and she did not enlighten them. But she could not stop her internal start of surprise. She knew the Chinese, like the British, often kept servant families. Children would often grow up together, and therefore by nature would have excessively familiar attitudes toward one another, even servant and master. But what the mandarin said meant "pose." The friend posed as his servant, which meant things here were not as they appeared.

Meanwhile, the "servant" grimaced, and though his body and tone took on a more servile expression, his face did not. "It is too dangerous to keep her alive."

"She is my wife, and you will not touch her unless I bid it."

"You have other wives," the servant groused.

Anna had to fight to keep from reacting. Of course she was a concubine—a third wife, fourth, maybe hundredth wife. It didn't really matter. And yet, this blackened her thoughts nonetheless even after the Enforcer dismissed his past spouses with a casual wave of his hand.

"Two dead and the third gone." He frowned. "Where is she now?"

"Companion to my mother in Canton. She still curses your testicles and swears she will cut them off if ever you come for her again."

The mandarin gave a mock shudder. "As if that would ever happen." He glanced back at Anna. "So I have an adequate number of wives, and may now indulge in the women I want." His voice continued in that conversational tone as he addressed her. "Do you comprehend, wife? Your life depends wholly on me."

She did not respond, pretending to not understand his words. She doubted she fooled the mandarin, but his friend dismissed her with a shrug. "Why do you play with death? She is a ghost woman. Her kind will only bring ill fortune."

"That is your aunt speaking, not your brain. How will you fare among the whites of Shanghai if that is your attitude?"

Jing-Li sighed dramatically. "Most ill, I am afraid. I will likely die within a year." Then he frowned at Anna. "Less, if you continue in your ignorant lusts." He leaned forward, his entire body urging the Enforcer to listen. "We cannot take her to Jiangsu. The place is too small to hide her."

The mandarin stared back, his body rigid. But moments later, he slumped. "I know," he finally said.

Everything in Anna urged her to step forward and demand an explanation. How far away was Jiangsu? How long did she have before she died? But what was the point? They wouldn't answer her, and she would give away that she understood their court dialect. She bit her lip and considered fleeing right then and there, but there was nowhere for her to go. Not on a boat filled with the Enforcer's servants. So she decided to bide her time and pray for an opportunity.

"Leave us, Jing-Li," the Enforcer snapped. "I have made a bargain with her. Entertainment for her life."

The friend rolled his eyes. "She will bore you with white God stories, then slit your throat while you sleep."

"Then you should not be so careless with your knife." And he held out his hand to Anna, obviously demanding the blade.

She pretended ignorance, shaking her head in confusion. "I only speak Jin dialect of the north," she said in that language.

Though she knew the man was the Emperor's Enforcer, his attitude these last hours had been of a scholar and an official. She had seen him give in to his friend and servant. She had not been thinking of him as the Emperor's killer, so she was not prepared for his next action. He moved with startling speed. Before she could do more than cringe, he was beside her, one arm wrapped across her chest—near to her throat—and the other gripping her hand just above the knife hilt. His thumb was sharp and painful where it dug into her wrist at the base of her palm.

She had no choice but to release the blade. It clattered to the floor where Jing-Li snatched it up. Then she waited in absolute stillness for him to release her. He did not. Instead, he whispered harshly into her ear.

"Isn't lying against your religion, Sister Marie?" Except for her name, he spoke in court Mandarin. "Lie to me again, and I will kill you for breaking your vow to your white god."

She swallowed, unsure what to do. And as she hesitated, his arm crept higher on her body, brushing past her breast up to tighten ever so slowly around her neck. She made a noise of distress, but it did not stop him. His arm was implacable as he began to cut off her breathing.

"Confess, little nun. Beg forgiveness for your sin."

She need only stay silent. She knew that. The best lies were adhered to against all odds. In time, she could even convince herself that what she spoke was the truth. Stay silent! she ordered herself.

But she couldn't do it. Not with the breath trapped tighter and tighter in her body. Not with Zhi-Gang's free hand now slipping around her arm to press against her belly. She was flush against his body, his erection a hot presence against her hip. She felt him everywhere—against her back, wrapped around her belly and throat, even against her ear and cheek as his hot breath coiled around her face.

"Yes!" she cursed in his Mandarin dialect. Then she twisted abruptly, shoving him away with all her strength. He went nowhere. "Yes, I understand your lying speech. I know you will kill me despite your promise. So do not curse me for lying when you have no honor of your own."

He released her then. Not because she had begun to fight him in earnest, but for some quixotic reason of his own. He even had the gall to smile at her as he clapped his hands.

"Excellent!" he cried, though she had no idea what he thought was so good. "We shall let Jing-Li clean up this mess, and then our evening can begin." His eyes grew darker, his lids slipping to a sensuous pose. "I trust you will not bore me with 'white God tales'?"

She swallowed, unsure how to respond. "No," she finally whispered. "No morality plays. My stories are... of a different kind."

He grinned. "I look forward to them."

She bit her lip, knowing she should remain silent. But she was frightened and off balance. She could not stop herself from trying for some type of security. And if not security, then at least foreknowledge of what he expected.

"They are just tales, you know. Nuns are... Nuns do not..." She swallowed, knowing how ridiculous this was, given what she had been doing in her bath moments ago. But some men might be content with that—with simple viewing. It was a vain hope, but she clung to it nonetheless. "If I am to keep my vow of honesty, then I must keep my vow of chastity as well." She lifted her chin. "Do you accept that? Will you honor that?"

He wouldn't, of course. She knew. Hadn't she just felt his erection hot and hard against her bottom? And yet she still waited in anxious silence as he studied her. Jing-Li watched as well, his brows contracted in thought as he obviously plotted something of his own. She wanted to look at him, to discover some clue as to what the servant/friend intended, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Enforcer. His presence—even in silence—trapped her somehow. It was that powerful and that terrifying as she waited for his response.

In the end, he simply nodded and bent his head and upper body in a slight bow. "Of course I will honor the vows of any cleric, male or female. To disrespect that would taint my qi."

She snapped back, startled by her own daring: "What happens to your qi when you kill a cleric?"

He grimaced. "Feng-Du punishes such crimes most severely."

She frowned, not understanding.

"Feng-Du is where spirits are judged and punished after death. Demons torture those who commit evil crimes."

"Hell," she supplied. "We call it Hell."

His smile seemed twisted somehow, but it was hard to tell as he gave another slight bow. "Exactly." Then he turned, gesturing negligently to Jing-Li. "Clean up this mess, servant." He grinned, obviously enjoying forcing his friend to wait upon him. "I believe I shall rest."

Jing-Li tensed. His shoulders lifted and his face took on a dark, angry flush. "You push this ruse too far," he growled. "You are no better than me. Less, by birth."

The mandarin arched a finely sculpted brow. "And how much does your birth help you now? You hide from the Empress on the Enforcer's boat." He grinned. "You must act like what you pretend."

"We are friends!" hissed Jing-Li.

The mandarin sobered, obviously answering a question neither had voiced. "We will find you a new place, Jing-Li," he said softly. "Away from the Empress, you will be able to live freely again. Just not right now." Then he stripped off his wet silk pants and tossed them at his friend.

Pretending to a modesty she didn't want, Anna forced herself to turn away from this interesting conversation. No nun would allow herself to see the mandarin's finely sculpted legs, and so she turned her back, but she kept listening closely, hoping for more clues about the man who held her captive. She heard nothing of use. Only his chuckle as he settled upon the cushions.

She heard his soft sigh as he stretched out and probably reclined, his hands behind his head as he quietly laughed at his friend's work. And then she imagined that his gaze drifted to her, wandering over her body clad in this tight Chinese silk. She felt uncomfortable awareness prickle between her shoulder blades, tighten her breasts, and heat her belly. She pulled her exposed leg in close to her body, knowing it made no difference. The fabric was too torn. He could see all of her leg from the knee down.

Such exposure was not so uncommon, really. Though the cool temperature in the north made for heavy fabrics that covered everything, the southern provinces were vastly different. In Shanghai, for example, tight skirts were often slit way up the thigh, especially among a certain sort of woman. The sight of Anna's knee and calf could hardly compete. Still, she felt his gaze burn there with erotic intensity. And yet, she dared not move away for fear that everything she imagined was simply that—her imagination—and moving away would bring on the attention she feared.

This made no sense. She knew that. And so, giving a muttered curse of disgust with herself, she stomped past Jing-Li to the toppled desk. She righted it quickly, then sat on the stool behind it. Once she was settled, she allowed herself to look at the Enforcer, this man who had haunted her dreams and now tormented her reality.

His eyes were closed, his chest shifting in the slow breathing of a man deeply asleep.

* * *

He slept like a man without fear: deeply and with total relaxation. He lay sprawled across the cushions, completely insensate, while Jing-Li finished cleaning and departed. Meanwhile, Anna sat on the stool, her thoughts weaving in and out as she longed for her own rest. After so many days of running, she was in sore need of sleep. In the end, she could not resist. She slipped off the stool to curl up on the hard deck. She did, of course, manage to quietly steal one of his pillows to tuck under her head.

She was asleep in moments, no doubt as deeply as he because when she next became aware of anything, her body ached from long inactivity and someone was singing badly nearby. It was loud singing, in that nasal baritone so loved by the Chinese. Much more interesting was the smell of dumplings sizzling in a pan.

She opened her eyes. She saw the tub again, dead center of the room, and the Enforcer's long queue undone down his back. Indeed, at first she thought she viewed a woman, so beautiful was his dark curtain of hair. But then he began another chorus of whatever Chinese opera he was singing, and there was no mistaking his male voice. Neither could she mistake the broad expanse of his shoulders as he straightened in the tub.

"Did I wake you, little missionary? Are you awake yet?" The words were sung, and it took some moments for her to realize that he was singing his questions to her rather than intoning some operatic refrain.

She twisted and attempted to straighten her legs, grimacing at the stiffness of her body. Had she truly been sleeping with her hands clenched about her knees? Apparently so, since it took real effort to untangle her arms before she could even contemplate straightening.

"I thought nuns slept on hard boards all the time," he sang. "Do you tell me that your body is unused—misused—not used—unused to such things?" He was clearly adding his own rhythms to a traditional melody.

She grimaced, wondering how he could know she was awake when all she could see of him was his back. Meanwhile, she managed to shift her legs and slowly roll to her knees. Her muscles protested the movement, but the change in blood flow was welcome if painful. Then she rolled her head a bit on her neck to remove a crick, only to stop halfway.

He had a mirror. Probably not a large one by his standards. It rested on another stool and was held in place by two hands—Jing-Li's, no doubt. That mirror was angled perfectly so that he could watch her and she... She sat back on her heels. She could see him in all his naked glory. Well, everything from the waist up, that is.

He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. Then he lifted a sponge high above his face and squeezed. Water gushed from his hand in an audible splat upon his chest. It was a broad chest, she realized, smooth and surprisingly muscled. His body didn't bunch like so many of the brutes in her adopted father's employ. Instead, the Enforcer seemed to have a lean strength, his tone and form much too... too... interesting for her tastes. Especially as it made him an effective killing machine.

She dropped her eyes to maneuver her feet underneath her. Her hip was tingling with renewed blood and her left foot still had little control, but she managed nonetheless. The sting from the scrape along her thigh helped focus her thoughts. Finally, she was able to force her body upright. She stood with little grace, but at least she didn't knock anything over.

The Enforcer made a gesture, and Jing-Li tilted the mirror back so that she had a fuller view of his naked torso. He—presumably—had a better view of her, too. She bit her lip, wondering what game he was playing. From this angle she could see all of his muscled chest in front of the sleek curtain of his black hair. His skin was golden in color and absolutely smooth as it rippled across his broad form and narrowed in at his waist.

Then he grinned and reclined backwards in the tub, stretching his arms high above his head. "My goodness, Jing-Li, I do believe that I have tired of singing."

"Praise Heaven," his friend intoned from behind the mirror.

"I wonder, then, what else I might do to pass the time. What else could one do in a bath?"

Anna's gaze snapped back to his face. His eyes were alight with mischief, and his expression challenged her to... to do something. Obviously he knew what she'd done before in her own bath. Given his expression, she knew she'd guessed correctly. He had indeed been watching her. Strange, how that thought didn't bother her as much as it should. She ought to feel humiliated by his not-so-private teasing. And she did—a bit. She also felt a strange exhilaration building inside her, another affirmation of life in this game she played with the mandarin.

One of the things she'd learned about the Chinese is that they were as circumspect about sexual activities as the English—in public. More so, in fact. But in private—between a husband and his wives—a great deal of exploration took place, especially among the wealthy elite. The most scandalous things were whispered among the married ladies when she wasn't supposed to hear. Obviously, the Enforcer was indeed of the elite. Of the frankly sexual elite.

While she tried not to stare, he was making exaggerated motions with his arm. She couldn't see if he actually stroked himself; the edge of the tub blocked her view. But his motions were meant to be explicit.

She continued to chew on her lip, wondering what to do. She had seen a naked male organ before. Her work at the hospital, for one, had stripped all of that modesty long ago. But she was supposed to be a nun who—presumably—was innocent. Except, she was obviously not nearly as innocent as appeared, given what her bath had been like.

She pulled her lip out of her teeth and firmed her jaw. Her own dithering was beginning to irritate her. The Enforcer obviously delighted in tormenting his victims. This was just a different method of torture. But it also told her something about him. He enjoyed the unusual. He was obviously delighted by her bath-time activity. And now, he teased her about it to see if she would give him another unconventional reaction. Very well. She would work on being peculiar. She was, after all, supposed to entertain him tonight. Besides, she had never been the kind of person to look away.

She stepped out from behind the desk, her eyes trained on the Enforcer's reflection. "Good evening, great sir," she began formally. "I thank you for allowing me to sleep. It was most kind of you."

She remained behind the tub, but her angle of view in the mirror increased the further she walked into the room. One more step and... yes, she could see past the lip of the tub to his most private part. Or would have if his hand and the sponge were not blocking her view.

Her gaze canted up to meet his eyes in the mirror, and she arched a brow, silently challenging his modesty. His smile widened as he obviously enjoyed her game. "You looked so sweet sleeping—like a child curled around a treat. I could not bear to wake you."

"Most kind of you," she murmured, shifting her weight to the side as she moved around the desk. He shifted the sponge accordingly. Her lips curved into a smile. "Was Jing-Li born higher than you?"

She'd succeeded in startling him, as his hand and expression froze. Jing-Li was not so affected. He leaned around the mirror and smirked.

"I only ask because you are so kind to me—a concubine wife whom you are about to kill—and yet so cruel to your friend whom you have known since... childhood?" She was guessing, but from their earlier conversation she knew she was right. She took another step forward. "Was it hard, great sir, being the one always thought lower in status, less worthy because of a simple accident of birth?"

The mandarin's eyes narrowed and his gaze slipped to Jing-Li. "Yes," he answered simply, but there was a wealth of understatement in the one word.

"A good thing you were not born a woman," Anna drawled. "I do not think you would have tolerated it well. The smarter female always has a difficult time."

"Pah!" he responded, sloshing the bathwater in his vehemence. "There are no smart women."

She had sidled closer to the tub. Her angle now allowed her to look down directly, but he still kept the sponge carefully resting so that she could not see anything of importance. "Do you think so?" she mused. "Then you must think that we women couldn't possibly be as brave or bold as one such as you—a male in the prime of his life, and a scholar as well."

The mandarin shrugged. "It is so."

She arched a brow at Jing-Li and the man's arrogance, but Jing-Li merely shrugged. Obviously, he thought so as well. She carefully adjusted her skirts and knelt down beside the tub. The mandarin shifted position so that he looked directly at her. That suited her purpose just fine. It only brought her target that much closer.

"You have not found any woman more clever than you?" she asked.

He sneered.

"More brave? Perhaps your mother. She did brave childbirth for you."

"Very true, but children are a woman's purpose. To avoid it out of fear would mean to be completely useless."

"My, that is certainly a male perspective." Anna reached down as fast as she could and snatched the sponge from its resting place. His sex lay thick and heavy against his thigh. She openly stared at its shape and length. "And this is certainly another perspective."

He said nothing and so she slowly, reluctantly lifted her gaze to see his face. He was grinning, his eyes sparkling. "And now you see what you wished. And I have delighted myself in allowing you to do as you secretly desired."

She nodded, as if she'd known all along that he would allow her to reveal himself fully to her. And perhaps she had. Only a man comfortable with himself would bathe in front of a woman. So she tossed aside the sponge, then carefully maneuvered her legs in her tight Chinese gown. It took some work, but in the end, she sat on the ground, her arms folded atop the edge of the tub, her chin resting on her hands.

"Oh," she murmured in mock defeat. "Well, then go ahead."

He frowned, clearly not understanding. She had fooled him! Glee bubbled up inside her, but she kept it carefully hidden as she straightened in dismay. "I thought you said you planned for this."

"Of course!" He leaned back, silently offering his organ. He apparently expected that she would try to buy her freedom.

This time she couldn't stop a small smile. "Well then, prove me wrong. Prove that I was not more daring and more clever than you."

He folded his arms across his chest. "Woman, you are illogical and stupid. Do you not understand what you are to now do?"

She shrugged in pretend confusion. "I'm not sure," she said. "I knew you were watching me this afternoon. And yet I acted in the full knowledge that I did so for your entertainment. Do you say that you are not equally brave, equally capable?"

He blinked, then his eyes widened. "You do not intend to...?"

She pulled back. "I did not have help. Do you say you are incapable of doing it yourself? Tsk tsk." She shook her head. "And yet you claim you are more skilled, more clever than women."

His expression darkened, but not so Jing-Li. The man burst out in barely restrained laughter. "He is capable, woman. As a child, it was the only way—"

"Get out!" roared the mandarin.

With perfect ease, Jing-Li set the mirror aside, then bowed. "Of course, Zhi-Gang," he said in an undertone to the floor. "It is a brave and clever thing you do," he taunted. "I understand you want no witnesses should you fail."

"Out!"

Jing-Li was still laughing as he skipped quickly out of the room. But that left just Anna beside the tub and the mandarin jutting proud and hard out of the water. She looked at his face, trying to gauge his mood. His expression was no longer angry. Perhaps it was more thoughtful, more curious, as he seemed to inspect her carefully. Thoroughly. And with a frank sexuality that unnerved her. Or perhaps not. Her nipples tightened under his dark regard, and she felt her tongue wet her suddenly dry lips. "You wish to see a show?" he challenged. She canted her glance away. "I wish merely to entertain, honored sir. I—" Her words were cut off with a surprised squeak as he suddenly gripped her chin and slowly, inevitably, turned her head to face him. "Do you seek to hide now, clever woman?" She swallowed. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I would never hide from any sight you chose to show me."

He grunted in pleasure, as if she had just promised more than she'd intended. But before she could do more than wonder, he began to pull her head down. His grip wasn't brutal, merely firm as he tugged her chin back to its place on her forearms atop the edge of the tub.

"You wish to see? Then watch." Then he wrapped his hand around his organ and began to stroke.