Page 89 of The Truth About Myths
"Bathwater can produce such symptoms." She twirled a curl over her fingers once, twice, and then lowered it to the gaping cloth of her robe.
His self-control slipped, and he followed the lock. The silk covering her breasts was moist and transparent. Nipples the color of a dusky afternoon peeked at him. Warmth swirled inside his chest, and his mouth watered, an uncontrollable urge to taste them, first the right one, then the other, and then…
"If you allowed my maid to attend me, she would've dried my hair against the hearth." She caught said hair in a knot atop her head. The movement dislodged her robe, baring her arms and the curve of her left breast. She glanced at him sideways as if to make sure he had seen her bountiful charms.
His head jerked up. "Is this a seduction?"
Her sweet gasp was confirmation enough. He would be damned. The prudish princess trying to seduce the redoubtable rake…
She whirled away from him as fast as her legs would carry her, and then she wavered in place and would have dropped to her derrière if he had not caught her.
Ribs protruded from her torso. Had she lost two pounds? Three?
Gently, he settled her over the recamier. "Foolish, foolish girl."
She lay with her head lolling, lifeless, and Henrique's heart wrenched inside his chest.
He picked the truffle from the dinner tray and twirled it under her nose. She came to, confusion dimming her eyes.
"This ends now." His voice was low and explosive.
"Why should I eat?" She lifted her chin imperiously, but at least her cheeks had regained color.
That was the Isabel he knew. Seduction time had ended.
Her gaze shifted from his face to the dinner tray, caressing the food. A rumble interrupted their tense silence. It wasn't kind to point fingers, but he could swear it came from her belly.
Henrique cursed under his breath and paced away from the recamier. He couldn't think with her so close. He might be mistaken, and with Isabel, it was a fifty/fifty event, but what if the seduction had been a ploy to avoid her ultimatum while keeping her pride? He couldn't give up the chance to make her eat.
When Henrique turned to her, he had his grin back in place and shrugged. "We could play a game. If you lose, you have to take a bite."
She frowned, and for a second, he thought she would send him to hell. But then her eyes lit up. "It's hardly fair. Players should stand on even ground. You are dressed formally while I'm wearing a loose bed robe."
Henrique's pulse sped, and he feigned an interest in his fingernails. "Very well. If I win, you eat a morsel of my choosing. If you win, I will remove one piece of clothing."
Had her breathing turned shallower? She lifted her shoulder, and the robe slipped. "Why would I want that?"
Henrique couldn't take his eyes off her skin. "You are curious, Isabel. I remember the way you explored my chest in the garden and almost swooned when you saw me hammering the iron plaque, but if you prefer to disrobe yourself, then..."
She tugged the robe up. With her hair cascading down her shoulders to pool on the oriental carpet and her long legs resting over the carmine upholster, she looked like Venus awaiting mortals to sacrifice in her shrine. "What do you have in mind? Chess, cards?"
His gaze traversed the expanse of the tower. While the count had provided surfaces to tempt a couple into love play, he didn't bother with parlor games. "A trivia."
She narrowed her eyes. "The subject? I hope it isn't science. I will start at a disadvantage—"
"About myths. Greek myths."
She instantly perked up, her eyes flashing. Of course, she had a better classical education than many scholars he knew and would no doubt expect to give him a sound trouncing.
She tilted her head to the side. "The rules?"
"For each question you miss, you must take four bites. When I lose, I will remove a piece of clothing. The first to reply to three questions correctly wins the game. In the less probable event that you win, I will return your clothes and tiara. If I win, you will be civil and await Pedro Daun's arrival."
Henrique removed lint from his coat, pretending nonchalance when he wanted to force nourishment down her throat.
She nodded regally.
Before she could change her mind, he moved a low table to the hearth and placed the food tray atop it. The fire cast golden notes over the pillows, making the colorful silk resemble a lake. Isabel lowered her weight slowly into a half-reclined position, her legs folded beneath her. Despite the effort to cover herself, her toes peeked from the folds of her robe. She had lovely feet.
