Louise Allen - Virgin Slave, Barbarian King

Over the rim of the tub she could see Wulfric’s head, streaming wet, the long, blond hair dark and slick. He rested it on the folded towel. ‘Just pour the water straight in.’

‘Certainly.’ The side of the tub was too high to lift the full bucket straight up. Julia pulled a stool close and stood on that, balancing the wooden container on the edge. Wulfric was lying back, his eyes closed. She let her gaze roam over the wet skin, the way the water flowed off the sculpted muscle, the shadows of the submerged part of his body.

‘Where exactly shall I pour it?’ she enquired sweetly. The green eyes flew open at her tone, but too late. Julia upended the bucket and a torrent of cold water hit him straight in the chest.

She expected spluttering, splashing and a shout of rage. What she was not prepared for was for him to rise straight up out of the water with a bellow of fury, grab her round the waist and heave her into the tub with him.

‘Aagh!’ She was wet to the waist, then with appalling suddenness, Wulfric sat down, dragging her with him, and ducked her under the water. She kicked and struggled, knocking against knees, tangling with legs, treading on feet, until he let her up to breathe.

‘Waurms! Thaunus! Unhultha!’ He gave her a shake and held her, spluttering, in front of his face. ‘Serpent!’

‘I am not your slave, I am not your servant, I am a free Roman citizen and I will not fetch and carry at the orders of a loutish barbarian!’ Her defiance was somewhat marred by the fact that her plait had come undone and she was trying to declaim through a mass of wet hair. She twisted in his grip, tried to stand, tangled her feet in her undertunic and fell back with a splash to land painfully on her bottom. ‘Oh, I can’t move!’

Sobbing with anger and frustration Julia tugged at her skirts, then began to struggle as she felt Wulfric’s hands on her girdle. It snapped as though it were a single thread and, despite her shrieks and clawing hands, he dragged tunic and undertunic together over her head and threw the sodden bundle out of the tub.

I am naked. I am naked in a tub with this naked man. I want…No! ‘Let me out of here,’ she demanded, her voice vibrating with feelings she did not dare express. She wrapped her arms round her breasts; they did not seem to cover very much.

Wulfric’s anger appeared to have vanished altogether. He was leaning back, his arms around the rim, water dripping from his beard, an appreciative grin on his face. The water lapped around his chest. Julia tried very hard not to stare at the flat pectorals, the strong tendons of his throat. She could feel his feet, one each side of her hips as she crouched there between his legs. ‘Please.’

He lifted one hand and gestured to the edge of the tub. ‘Feel free.’

‘Stand up? In front of you?’

‘I could always stand up instead and turn my back,’ he offered. She could see he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

‘Thank you, no.’ She glared at him. ‘Why can’t you just close your eyes?’

‘Because I am enjoying myself,’ he admitted simply.

Julia put her hands on the edge of the tub as though to lever herself upright, then snatched at the towel Wulfric had been cushioning his head on. He caught her wrist easily and held it. ‘Now what?’ he enquired, straight faced.

‘This.’ Her slender hold on her temper snapping she launched herself at him, striking with her free hand at his imprisoning fist. ‘Let me…’

His response was never what she expected, she should have learned that by now. He made no attempt to evade her blows, simply pulling her close in against himself. Frightened, furious and excited in equal measure, she looked up into the clear green eyes so close that she could count his lashes.

‘You savage! Let me go.’

For a long moment they stared at each other, then with a growl Wulfric released her hand, encircled her waist and trapped her mouth under his. It was her dream of the night before and more. Their bodies touched together, slipped apart, as her hands came up to grip his shoulders and her mouth opened under his with an instinctive, fierce response she did not know she possessed.

They were both angry. She had no idea whether she was more angry at him than herself, but there was no mistaking that Wulfric was furious with her, and utterly determined to bring her panting and pleading to his feet.

His grip on her was punishingly hard, his mouth plundered without any mercy, lips and teeth and tongue possessing and taking with a power that seemed to only increase as she refused to be cowed by it. He plunged his tongue into her open mouth, hard and hot. Innocent of a man’s body she might be, but Julia knew what this invasion mimicked. Writhing against him under the water, she tangled her own tongue with his. I will reduce him to begging for me and then I will laugh…

He let her go as violently as he had taken her. Julia fell back against the side of the tub gasping, rubbing the back of her hand across her swollen mouth, staring at him wild-eyed.

‘You are a virgin—you should behave like one,’ he snapped at her, his chest heaving.

‘You hypocrite! You presume to lecture me on my behaviour? You kissed me, you forced me!’ Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together.

‘Forced you? I think not, Julia.’

She could feel the shamed blood staining her cheeks, saw on Wulfric’s face nothing but male arrogance and the desire to dominate. She had fought back, not with her fists but with her sensuality and he could not deal with that, she told herself, fighting for some balance.

‘You are an animal,’ she managed to spit out.

‘I would be taking you on the floor by now if that were the case.’ She gasped. He stared at her haughtily and she read his pride and the indignation that she had insulted him in the hot green look. ‘Wash my back.’

‘What? Now?’

‘Yes, now.’ He reached one long arm over the side of the tub, groped in the jar and came up with a soap ball.

‘I would sooner stick a knife in it,’ she retorted flatly.

‘I am aware of that.’ Wulfric shifted round until his broad back was towards her. His disregard for the danger she posed was an affront in itself.

Julia stared at the expanse of shoulder, the long, flexible line of his back, the strong dip to the spine, the dramatic narrowing to his hips. Below the water she could see the taut shape of his buttocks. His hair was plastered to the skin, covering his shoulder blades.

‘Now,’ he growled. ‘The water is getting cold.’

Julia began to make lather, and then to wash her own body as fast as she could. Sharing bathwater was a dubious way to get clean in her opinion, but she was going to wring what benefit she could from this hideous situation.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Washing.’ She ducked under the water to rinse off the suds, pushing her hair back out of her face. No rosemary hair wash, no sweet oils, just one large, sweaty barbarian’s bathwater. Julia grimaced at the magnificent back in front of her.

‘Then wash me, slave girl.’

She scooped one hand under the fall of his hair and threw it over his shoulder, then attacked his back as hard as she could. Wulfric grunted, not, she was sorry to realise, with discomfort, but with pleasure. Gritting her teeth, she scrubbed the coarse soap ball over his back, following up with her other hand, kneading the muscles as though to pummel her anger out into them. She followed the fascinating masculine lines as far as his waist. No further.

‘You have stopped.’ He turned his head to look at her. Julia shifted closer, the only way to shield her naked body. Her breasts were a finger’s breadth from his back.

‘You can reach the rest.’ She tossed the soap ball up over his shoulder. Reflexively he lunged for it and she scrambled over the edge of the tub, seized her sodden clothing and ran for her bed space.