“Stop.” Her voice, although low, contained enough anger to halt his speech. “You are not responsible. I can’t deal with your guilt on top of everything. It makes everything harder. It makes me feel wretched. Like I’m still a victim. I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity. I see you suffer and I want to help. I want to heal you, protect you, cherish you.”
“You can’t. You don’t even understand how I feel. You think I reject you because I either resent you, fear you, or don’t trust you. Or maybe a combination of all three, when nothing could be farther from the truth. That's the reason why, when we were intimate, I didn’t speak up until it was too late.”
“But I told you not to worry about my feelings.”
“How can I not? I see the torture in your eyes when you look at me. You treat me like I’m made of fragile glass, in danger of shattering at any moment. That’s the last thing I need. When you treat me like that, you make me weak. And being weak perpetuates my victimization.”
“That’s not my intention.” He was aghast. Horrified. Had he gotten everything wrong? “What can I do to fix it?”
“Have you ever been helpless, Michael? Have you ever been powerless, alone, without hope, without friends, far from home, afraid?”
He shook his head slowly. He had been hopeless when she left, afraid sometimes before a battle—only a fool wouldn’t be—he had been far away from home. But that’s not what she meant. He had never experienced all the things she mentioned all at once. The picture she painted was so bleak, it tore at his soul.
“That’s what I thought. You are always in command. Used to issuing orders and having them obeyed. Both as an officer and as a duke, you wield considerable power. How can you possibly understand what it is like to have no power whatsoever, not even over your own body?”
“Then make me understand,” he rasped.
“What?”
A crazy idea had just occurred to him, and yet as soon as he thought of it, he felt it was right. He slid his necktie from where it hung, undone, around his neck. Offered it to her. “Tie me.”
She looked at him with a frown of incomprehension.
“Even if I did, it could never be the same.”
“I know that. But you said I’m always in command, and you’re right. I am ceding control to you. Once you tie me, you’ll have all the power.”
Her eyes narrowed to feline slits, but some color was returning to her face. Her chin jutted forward and, with a sudden movement, she yanked the tie from his hands.
“Lie on the bed,” she commanded at the same time she jumped from it. He complied immediately, the warmth of the sheets where her body had been until a moment ago welcoming him. His gaze followed her scantily clad figure hungrily as she went to her robe and pulled the long sash off, then to a drawer to remove another length of cloth. A scarf? When she had gathered her provisions, she came back to the bed. Distracting him with the tempting vision of the outline of her body through the fine silk of her nightgown. His mouth went dry.
“Hands over your head.” Her voice cut through his fantasy, but only to heighten his pleasure.
He complied with alacrity, holding her gaze, and she went to work, shackling his wrists together and then securing them to a post of the bed. As she tied them to the bedpost, her breasts swung temptingly close to his mouth. If he just lifted his head a little, he could take one nipple in his mouth and suckle until it was hard and pointy, until she squirmed with desire. The urge was so great, he had to close his eyes to avoid the temptation.
“There, that should hold you,” she said as she scuttled toward the lower part of his body. He tested the bindings. They were stronger than he had expected.
“You certainly know how to tie a knot,” he observed.
“I learned to weave in the harem. I spent years tying knots.” One of her shoulders lifted in a small shrug as she moved toward his feet. “The purpose might be different, but the same principle applies.”
She studied him from under lowered lashes. “Open your legs.”
The vulnerability of his position struck him as soon as he moved his legs apart. The first frisson of discomfort ran down his spine, but he suppressed it. He had promised her control, and he wouldn’t go back on his word. He wasn’t even sure he could at this point. She was in a strange mood and needed to carry out whatever design she had planned.
With the utmost efficiency, she tied each of his legs to a post of the bed. After she was done, he surreptitiously pulled on the bindings, and they held fast. He was well and truly trapped, splayed out in front of her, as she contemplated him with narrowed eyes and an intent expression.
Submission and dominance had never played in his fantasies. If they had, Michael would have thought he would want to be the dominant party. But damn if being helpless and splayed out in front of her didn’t arouse him. His cock hardened under her considering gaze.
She lifted an eyebrow and met his gaze. “This is just a game to you, isn't it? You think it’s exciting being tied and helpless.”
“I didn’t know how it was going to be,” he replied truthfully. “I assure you, I’ve never been in this situation before. But yes, I’m aroused. Being with you arouses me. I can’t help it. It’s the effect you have on me.”
“Would it be different if the person holding you captive was someone you loathed and feared? Imagine you are a prisoner of an enemy army, and the person in front of you is not intent on pleasure, but pain. Can you imagine that, Michael?”
He closed his eyes, attempting to imagine the scene she described. It would be terrifying. He had faced enemies on the battlefield. Had confronted them in hand-to-hand combat. But it was one thing to be in action. Even if you were staring death in the face every instant, at least you had a chance to defend yourself. It was another feeling completely to be tied and helpless, at someone else’s mercy. He breathed deeply,attempting to calm the rhythm of his heart, the pumping of his blood that demanded action.
