Free Her Lord and Master by Alexa Cole Page A

She knew his chest was splendidly wide and broad, swelling and rippling with muscles. She would not look at it, nor at his bulging biceps, banded with thick gold rings, and painted with blackened warrior tattoos.
    He removed the leather wristlets that covered his forearms, setting them aside, along with the gold arm bands. She noticed the thick tendons that corded his arms, and the pulsing veins that covered that back of his hands. The sheer vitality of him was magnetic.
    When he turned away from her, and bent over to remove his boots, Elizabeth nearly fell off her chair.
    His buttocks were mere inches away from her!
    And he wore no undergarment.
    Feigning oblivion, Ragnor slid his leather pants slowly down his hips, over his butt and down his legs, smirking to himself with every inch of naked skin he revealed to her. Behind him, he could hear Elizabeth’s shocked breath growing more and more ragged, and he could envisage her pale, chaste face turning burgundy with shock. She was squirming in her chair uncomfortably, seeking release for the secret little ache that she didn’t think he knew about. Ah, she had reacted to his nudity precisely how he hoped she would. She liked it.
    He’d better cool things off before she came right there in her chair, he laughed to himself.      
    Ragnor eased himself into the water, now barely lukewarm. He had been thinking of a hot bath since he first saw the jumbo tub at the convent that morning, but tepid water had certainly been worth the price to let Elizabeth bathe first. Seeing her in the water had only whetted his appetite for her. Her body was even more flawless than he had imagined, and he was burning with yearning for her. The big, brown nun’s habit did her a grave injustice, he thought, submersing himself in the half-cold water. He would have it burned tomorrow, he decided. She deserved to be clothed like a queen.
    While the tub had been large and ample for Elizabeth, it was not nearly adequate for Ragnor’s large frame. He lounged against the metal, leaning his head against the back, and resting his arms on the rim. But the situation was far from ideal. If he reclined his head, there was no room for his long legs. If he submerged his legs, he had to sit awkwardly upright, which completely defeated the purpose of taking a bath in a tub in the first place. Ruefully, he let his legs dangle outside the tub. At least they were warm by the fire.
    Elizabeth giggled at his predicament, and he laughed too. Oh, how they would banter and joke when she learned his language, he anticipated cheerily. Six months immersed in Denmark, and she would be just as fluent as Jordan was, he predicted.
    He could tell she was keenly intelligent, and her regal bearing revealed she was a certainly someone of high stature in these lands. It would not do for him to keep her as a slave once they reached his home. No, he would have to make her a freewoman. Once he had tamed her that was. He smiled, and she smiled back.
    But now was not the time for friendly repartee, he thought, shifting in the water. It was time to teach Elizabeth why her god had blessed her with such gorgeous lady parts and subtle feminine charm. And it was time to put them to use. He scrubbed himself quickly with the sliver of soap, and rinsed rapidly.
    “Bringe mig dem,” he said in Danish, pointing to the pile of dry towels. “Please,” he added.
    She shook her head. If he got out of the water, she would have to see him again. All of him. Naked.
    “Please?”
    She shook her head again.
    His eyes held hers, challenging her. She returned his gaze boldly. So, she was going to be stubborn, he thought. Two could play at that game. He would enjoy every minute of it...So would she, he would make sure.
    “Suit yourself,” he said in Danish, shrugging.
    If she wanted to play hardball, he could play too.
    Ragnor cocked a sardonic brow, and slowly took his manhood overtly into his hand. He looked over the rim of the tub at Elizabeth,