She gathered what she needed and returned to the unconscious man—her husband—tied to the cot. Husband! What a strange word. A strange word for an absolute stranger.
A shot of heat curled in her belly and for a fleeting moment she wished she could keep him here, like this, tied for her own pleasure. A man of her own. A husband she could totally control.
Guilt curled through her at the sinful idea.
All her life she’d been under a man’s thumb in one way or another. All her life, she had manipulated, wheedled, and coaxed men to do her bidding. And here was a man that she did not have to do that with. He was hers for the taking—to do with what she willed. She could undress him, wash him. Kiss him.
Where had that thought come from?
Fascinated by the opportunity to explore a man, she ran her finger lightly over his stomach. Her wrist gently grazed the area just below where his hose and braies met.
That area twitched, seemed to lift of its own accord.
Unable to tear her gaze away, her eyes widened. It twitched again.
She gasped; a thrill spiraled through her. Tamping down a wayward tendril of guilt, she reached forward again. This time, she squeezed. Even beneath his linen garment she could tell it was cylindrical and fleshy. It hardened beneath her fingers and she laughed aloud.
What fun, wicked pleasure to toy with a man’s body! They were such stupid, half-witted creatures that even in sleep they had no control over their own parts.
His eyes opened, locking with hers.
Her delighted giggle died on her lips, and she drew her hand back as if she’d been slapped.
He had the most intense eyes she’d ever seen. Intermingled shades of dark and light green agate caught in candleglow. They looked almost inhuman, as if they belonged to a thing dredged up from hell itself.
Except they shone with intelligence and determination.
Not the eyes of a half-witted cretin at all.