Aye, 'tis ready."
"Is it hot?"
She had to suppress the smile that threatened her lips. "Aye 'tis hot." She started for the door but he called her back.
"Hold. You are not dismissed." She turned around at his superior tone of voice. "Since my squire is busy, I will need assistance." Ginny gritted her teeth and approached him, then waited for him to speak. "Do you know not what to do?" She knew and dawned him to hell for his baiting. Her father had never allowed her to attend a guest's bath. He did not hold with the custom and now she knew why. It was humiliating. "This chore is usually reserved for the lady of the house. Do you wish for me to call your sister?"
Ginny let the blood drain from her face. "Nay, she would find it as distasteful as I."
His deep rich laughter filled the air. "Then hurry before the water grows cold."
That remark gave her pleasure. Cold? It would take half the night for the water to cool. She reached up his chest, feeling the cold links beneath her hands, but the tips of her fingers barely brushed the fastening on his shoulder. Although the closure proved just out of her grasp, he did not sit to make it any easier, and she would be damned before she asked him for assistance. Standing on her tiptoes, she stretched to undo the armor, her arms and back feeling the strain as each strap slipped through her figures. She nearly dropped the heavy woven medal rings, and when the covering was free, the weight dragged her arms down.
He smiled at her predicament and stepped out of the heavy garment at his feet. "It would seem that you have never done this before."
Ginny blushed from the tip of her toes to the top of her head and she tried to finish removing the tunic with looking or touching the man. She turned and stared at him. The laughter in his eyes raised her ire. "Strapping an invader holds little interest for me."
"Someday you might find the experience rewarding. But I will take pity on you. See to my clothes while I finish removing my pants." His hands moved to the belt at his waist.
Relieved that she didn't have to strap him naked, Ginny whirled around. This one tiny kindness humbled and humiliated her more than bring beaten in battle. Ginny had never been, nor would she ever be, an object of charity. She moved to the clothes chest his men had deposited in the room and opened the lid. Behind her she could hear him moving around and the sound of clothes being dropped. She could not wait for him to get into the tub. Covertly, she removed his tunic from the floor and waited for the yell of pain. She heard water splashing but no pain filled cry.
"Ah the water is comfortable. Remember, slave, this is how I like my bath water."
Merlin, he was the son of Darkness. She kept her back to him as she folded his clothes, trying to block out the splashing sounds. The water had been poured straight from the kettle into the tub. It would be scalding hot.
"Hand me the soap, Slave."
Unable to look at him, she picked up the chunk of soap from the tray and took a chunk of soap from the tray and took a cautious step backwards. Careful to keep her eyes averted, groping for the rim of the tub, she thrust the soap behind her.
Hot water splashed her hand and she cringed from the heat. He was a devil. "Closer, mademoiselle; I cannot reach it." She moved a foot back and thrust her hand further back. Another spray of water hit her back and she gasped, jumping away from the tub. Laughter filled the air and, forgetting herself, Ginny spun around.
The warlord was on the other side of the tub half dressed, "The water is just a touch to hot. You will need to fetch two buckets of cold water." Ginny snatched up the buckets and stormed out of the room, his mocking laughter following her all the way down the stairs.
"Lady Ginevra pardon me," Bret nursemaid said as Ginny filled the buckets. She was one of the only staff members that knew Ginny and her family's secret. "Why do you not use magic," she whispered.
"If the warlord was to find out I'm a witch what would he do? I can not take the chance. Spread the news no magic, even Bret needs to be careful." Ginny looked around making sure that no one was about. "What is it, Parvati?" Ginny asked, noticing the strain and hesitation on her old friend's face.
"We would have made good our escape if not for the noise that led the Normans to us."
The children, Ginny thought sadly. "Children cannot be expected to understand the gravity of the situation."
"Nay, the children were as good as angels. It was Lady Kayla that gave us up."
"Kayla?" Ginny gasped.
"She heard the soldiers and became frantic. I wanted to box her ears for it. Knowing the sacrifice you had made."
"Kayla," Ginny repeated in bewilderment, then remember the nursemaid. "I am so sorry, Parvati." Knowing that Kayla had ruined the plan hurt more than she could say. "I will not fail you again."
"No one blames you, my lady. We all know the length you went to assure our safety. It breaks my heart to see you as a slave and your sister-in-law as a lady. You are the true lady of this castle. "
"'Tis done."
"Take care you do not rile the Norman," Parvati said, a fearful expression clouding her aged features as she met her mistress's gaze.
"'Tis too late. I think I was put on this earth to do just that." She bid Parvati farewell and climbed the stone steps with the buckets.
The bath was tempered by the cool water, and she immediately went to finish the chore of unpacking the invader's belongings.
"What are you called?" he asked from the tub.
"I am Lady Ginevra of North Graham." She said her full name, unable to keep the ring of pride from sounding in her voice. "But I'm called Ginny by my friends and family."
"'Tis a weighty title and much too formal an address for one such as you. Never mind, slave, I will think on it." There was silence for a moment, then his voice rang out. "Nevra, fetch my clothes."
"My name is Ginevra," she said through clenched teeth.
"Nevra, fetch me my clean clothes." This time, Ginny didn't argue. Snatching up his clothes up, she stomped over to the bath and laid them by the tub. "I'm called Draco de Malfoy, but you will call me my lord," he said with droll amusement in his voice.
Ginny swore neither name would pass her lips. "Is there anything else, warlord?"
"Oui, slave." He extended his hand with the chunk of soap resting in it. "Scrub my back."
Ginny swallowed hard as the soap dropped into her palm. She moved around him and held the rough soap by her fingertips. The muscles beneath his flesh rippled when she drew the soap lightly down his back and across his shoulders. Her face burned at the intimacy and yet, some how could not look away. She was fascinated by the difference between them.
"Slave, you may not be familiar with bathing but you need to scrub to get the dirt off." He held a cloth over his shoulder.
Ginny gritted her teeth at the insult. She had never been so filthy in her life, covered in mud and ground-debris from her fight with him yesterday. She took hold of the cloth and dug the rough material into his shoulders. The flesh was red from her harsh treatment, but he didn't complain. However, she noticed that his muscles tensed every time she started another stoke. A small smile spread across her lips. By the time she was through, he would not have an inch of skin left that was not red and sore.
"Slave, that feels wonderful, but you have yet to scrub the skin below the water."
The smile on her face vanished. Below the water. She closed her eyes and lowered the cloth down beneath the waterline. So intent was she in finishing her task that her arm swung madly across his buttocks and sloshed water over the rim.
"That will do; now you can start on my chest." He leaned back against the rim and folded his arms behind his neck, looking very relaxed. Ginny didn't know if she could. She moved to the front of the tub and stared at the floor. This was beyond any humiliation she had ever suffered. "What is your delay, slave?" he asked his tone serious. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and saw the amusement in his eyes. Damn that man. He was laughing at her! Her chin rose a notch and she lathered the cloth with angry strokes.
Breast! Spawn of Darkness, she cursed silently, holding on to her angry and nurturing it as she ran the cloth across his chest. His light haired chest glistened in the suds and her figures tingles as if they were asleep and then suddenly awakened. A fine current shot through her veins as she realized this warlord stirred something in her. She chanced a glimpse into his light blue eyes and noticed the gleam in their depts. Quickly, she looked away. She could not bear for him to know what she was thinking.
"Do forget to wash all of me, slave," he said laughter in every word.
Ginny closed her eyes. He knew what he did to her and was making her endure more. Damn him. Pretend he is dead or so ancient that he cannot lift his decrepit body without help. Good, if she thought of him as a helpless old man, it was a bearable task. But when she washed down his chest and followed the thin line of hair down his belly. It was not a limp rod she felt but a firm shaft. Her face flamed and she jumped back from the tub. There was no way she could pretend he was old.
"I have finished. Will there be anything else, warlord?"
"Oui. From this night forward, you sleep here." He pointed to the bed. "With me."
"NEVER!"
"Never, mademoiselle?" An eyebrow arched in disbelief as he held her gaze. "Have you not learned that opposing me is futile?" he pointed again to the bed. "Upon yon pallet, you will rest your head next to mine."
Frustration and fury burned with in her. "Why?" she demanded, unable to believe his command.
"Because you are my slave."
"And as you slave I will do any and every menial task you ask but I will not play your whore."
His eyes narrowed. "You will do what I say. This is not a request, Nerva. It is an order. You will sleep in my arms."
"I will not." Ginny throw the cloth back into teh tub, splashing water and soap up into his face.
"Do I need to get out of here to prove my point?"
Terror surged through Ginny and she took a few steps backward away from the tub. "Nay, I will go get my clothes," she lied, bartering her integrity for ingenuity. She needed time to outwit him.
"Slave, do not make me come look for you."