Viking by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

and cold water. When the tub was sufficiently full, Thorne motioned them away. Then Tyra arrivedwith a stack of clean clothing. She laid Thorne’s things out carefully on the bench and began to undress.
    “I will bathe you, my lord.”
    Thorne gave an impatient wave of his hand. “Not this time, Tyra. Fiona will bathe me.”
    Suddenly Fiona realized that both Tyra and Thorne had spoken in Gaelic, and that Tyra must have come from her part of the world. “I will gladly relinquish the chore to Tyra,” Fiona said, smiling at Tyra. Perhaps they would become friends. She would like that.
    “Nay,” Thorne said. “Tyra can attend my brother and father. Bathing me will be your job, Fiona.”
    Tyra sent Fiona a venomous look, dashing Fiona’s hopes for a friendship with the pretty slave. “If she does not please you, my lord, I will be happy to attend you.” Then she flounced out the door, her skirt swirling around her shapely ankles.
    “Are you a nobleman?” Fiona asked. “Tyra addressed you as such.”
    “Aye. Father is a jarl, an earl in your country. He is a favorite of King Harald Fairhair. Help me to undress, the water grows cold.”
    “Nay, my lord,” she mocked in a tone that was far from submissive.
    “Do not try my temper, wench.” He braced his foot on a bench and pushed her down on her knees before him. “Unlace my shoes.”
    Fiona gritted her teeth and complied. When she finished she stood up, her mouth gaping open when Thorne pulled off his cape and tunic and tossedthem aside. A nude Thorne was far more intimidating than a clothed Thorne. Light golden hair covered his chest, thickening into a dense patch across his loins. His body was crisscrossed with scars, some old, some still puckered and healing. Thick, ropy tendons rippled beneath the tanned flesh of his arms and torso. His legs were long and sturdy, a masterpiece of strength and power. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on his massive body. Then her gaze settled on his manhood and she blanched. He was in a state of full arousal. She tore her gaze away from him.
    Thorne seemed not to notice the direction of her gaze as he eased into the tub and sighed audibly. “Come,” he said, crooking his finger, “the water is fine.”
    “I’ll wait until you’re finished,” Fiona contended.
    “You can’t wash me from there. I’ll tear off your clothes myself if you do not obey.”
    Fiona feared he would do just that if she did not comply, so she started to climb into the tub, clothes and all.
    “Nay, not like that. Remove your clothing. I won’t have you fouling up the water. It won’t be the first time I’ve seen you naked.”
    A trail of red crawled up Fiona’s neck. That was one encounter she’d like to forget. “Perhaps Tyra—”
    “Tyra won’t do. Do not prolong what is inevitable. I am the master, you are the slave. Remove your clothing and get into the tub.” His voice was hard, implacable … determined.
    Fiona could turn and run, but what good wouldit do her? She had the sinking feeling that Thorne would rise out of the tub stark naked and force her to do his bidding. Certainly no one in his household would come to her aid. A slave’s lot was a hard one. If she didn’t obey, she would be severely punished.
    With shaking hands she removed the brooch from her shoulder. The tunic fell to her waist, revealing the thin linen shift beneath. Then she unclasped the belt around her waist and the tunic pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it and looked at Thorne, hoping he’d let her keep her shift. It was not to be.
    “Everything. Take off everything. Hurry, the water grows cold.”
    Her lips thinned in resignation as she slipped her arms from her shift and let it fall to the floor. She entered the tub so quickly Thorne scarcely got more than a brief glimpse of white skin, rosy nipples and taut buttocks.
    “You forgot the soap.” His lips curved into a wicked grin as he glanced meaningfully at the bench against the