"I'll give you three more minutes." The ultimatum came from the other side of the door.

Biting back a startled cry, she stared at the wooden surface. "I'm not the kind of woman who wears a red dress." Oh, but she wanted to.

"Do you not like it?"

"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen," she said, because to lie would be a desecration of his gift.

"Then you'll wear it. Or you will be naked." A pause. "Hmm..."

Every inch of her skin skittering with sensation at that considering murmur, she dropped the towel and pulled on one of the two identical pieces of flimsy underwear laid out beside the dress - there was no slip, nothing for her breasts, but then she didn't need it. Such luxury, she thought as the cloth whispered over her thighs to cup her behind.

"Oh." It was a shivering whisper as she realized the undergarment, cut high on her thighs and of a near-transparent material, exposed more than it covered.

"I'm coming in very soon."

"Wait!" Grabbing the dress after stuffing the extra pair of underwear in a drawer, she pulled it on over her head. Only to find that it laced up the back. Twisting to clench the sides closed, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair hung damp and sleek around her face, but it was still a shapeless mat, and her face hadn't changed. It remained that of a wicked witch right out of a nightmarish tale.

But the dress...oh, the dress.

It cupped her breasts, nipped in at the waist and flared out at the hips to give her a form that made her, for a bare moment, feel almost, if not pretty, then not ugly, either. Her lower lip quivered and she might have given in to tears had the door not pushed open behind her.

She swiveled to face him. "I need Jissa."

He stared at her, those green, green eyes lingering on her breasts. "Why?"

It suddenly felt as if her modest attributes were twice as large. "The back needs lacing."

"I will do it." Closing the door, he dared her to contradict him.

She couldn't think when he had his hands on her, her body reacting in ways that were simply not acceptable if she was to complete her mission and take him home. "It would be unseemly."

"We are in the Black Castle. The only rules that exist here are the ones I make."

"Just because you enjoy being a bully," she said, pointing at him with her free hand, "doesn't mean I intend to take it."

His eyes dipped to her chest, his expression intrigued, and she realized that by moving her arm to gesticulate at him, she'd caused the bodice of her dress - her gorgeous, precious red dress - to slip, revealing the upper curve of one breast. Face flaming, she pulled it back up and glared. "It's rude to stare."

He raised his eyes to her with such slowness that the heat in her cheeks spread throughout her body, a heavy, languorous warmth that was as terrifying as it was unfamiliar. When he began to stalk toward her, those winter-green eyes filled with dark, unknowable things, she backed up. He kept coming. She kept stumbling back.

Until the backs of her thighs hit the vanity.

He stopped so close she was scared to breathe for fear her breasts would press against the black armor that no longer seemed so very thick. "Turn around." A quiet order, his hands braced palms down on the vanity on either side of her hips.

Chapter 9

Realizing she'd well and truly lost this battle, she turned. Tall as he was, she could glimpse his face above hers in the mirror, saw his gaze dip to her back. Her stomach clenched. Shutting her eyes in an effort to lessen the impact of his nearness, she continued to hold the back closed, and waited for the ties to pull tight.

Nothing happened.

Chest painful, she exhaled, sucked in another jerky breath. "My lord?"

"I've never before done this," he murmured, and she was almost certain he was talking about something other than lacing a dress even when he pulled at the strings. "Hmm."

She dared open her eyes at the change in his tone. When she looked into the mirror again, it was to see his face set in lines of concentration as he laced her up inch by slow inch.

"I can't breathe," she said when he pulled too tight.

Loosening the strings, he said, "What other colors do you not wear?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Brown, gray and black."

He laughed, and she was so seduced by the sound that she made no protest when he finished lacing her up and spun her around with his hands on her hips. Leaning close, his cheeks creased with pure masculine amusement, he said, "Liar."

Jumping at the whisper of his breath across her cheekbone, she turned her head. "I must..." She didn't know what she had to do, was starting to panic at the closeness of him when her eye fell on the comb on the very end of the vanity. "I have to brush my hair or it'll become a rat's nest once more."

Reaching out, he picked up the comb before she could get to it. She thought she knew what was coming, but instead of ordering her to turn around again, he backed off, staring mock-thoughtfully at the comb. "What will you do for this?"

"What?" He was blackmailing her. "I'll tell you the rest of the tale."

He waved a hand. "You'll tell me the rest, anyway, the next time you want a bath."

Putting her hands on her hips, she fought the driving urge to pull him down, bite down on that taunting mouth. "What do you want?"

"Lushberry pie with real cream."

"Lushberry pie?" It was a well-known dessert in Elden.

"Yes." He folded his arms, comb still held hostage.

She knew without asking that he hadn't eaten lushberry pie since the childhood he didn't remember - but he'd remembered the pie. Hope unfurled in her heart. However, she didn't give in at once to his demand. He'd get suspicious of that. "Where am I supposed to get lushberries?" Even in Elden, the trees were dying like so much else.

"I'll get them." A grim look. "You'll make the pie."

"Give me the comb first."

"After the pie."

"It'll be no use to me when my hair's already dry and ratty."

A dark scowl. "Don't think to cheat me, Liliana."

Her abdomen grew tight at the sound of her name on his lips. "I'm not the one who refuses to follow the rules of civilized behavior." She held out her hand. "The comb."

Walking over until he was far too close again, he leaned in, sniffed the curve of her neck. "Pretty." Then he gave her the comb and walked out.

Knees crumpling, she stumbled to sit on the bed. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. The Guardian of the Abyss was not meant to be so very... "Yes. Just very." Realizing she was babbling, she lifted her hand and began to run the comb through her hair. When she was done, it settled in sleek lines over her shoulders, and she knew it would be soft even when dry.

The feminine heart of her sighed in pleasure. Her hair had never been soft or silky like those of other women - her mother, the courtiers, the mistresses her father kept. Until she'd turned seven and learned to use her own sorcery to heat the water, her father had made her wash in an ice-cold bath, use the roughest soap.

Weak, so weak. It might give you a little more spirit.

What it had done was turn her blue and almost give up bathing. The only thing that had kept her going back was the knowledge that the punishment for defying the Blood Sorcerer would be worse than the chill that infiltrated her bones after every wash.

Putting the comb back on the vanity as the memories threatened to steal the warmth from her bones, she got up and brushed down the front of her lovely red dress. Then, checking to make sure no one was at the open door, she twirled in front of the mirror, the skirts flying out around her. "Thank you," she whispered to the dread Lord of the Black Castle.

Lushberries were so called because, when ripe, the fist-size dark purple berries were so lush with juice they all but burst open. It was a favorite trick of travelers to place them in a stream until they were chilled, and then to crush the berries into pulp, creating a thick, thirst-quenching drink.

"Sometimes on the farms," Liliana told Jissa as she created the pulp for use in the pie only twelve hours after the man who'd given her a red dress had told her he'd find the berries, "the cook said they add milk and sugar to it."

Jissa's eyes widened. "Delicious, sounds delicious."

That was when Liliana remembered that brownies were rumored to love sweets of every kind. "Shall we try?" she asked, mischief in her veins. "His Lordship will never miss it, he brought back so many berries." He'd likely denuded an entire tree, the greedy creature.

"Liliana," Jissa said in a censuring tone. "You must not say 'His Lordship' in that tone. If he hears, oh, no, oh, no."

"Don't worry, Jissa. He'll threaten to throw me in the dungeon and I'll bribe him with food." Laughing at the look on the brownie's face, she put aside some pulp in a jug. "Why don't you add the milk and sugar to your taste?"

Jissa bit her lip. "We shouldn't."

Liliana lowered her voice. "I won't tell."

Temptation won over Jissa's timid nature and soon the woman was standing beside Liliana stirring the mixture into a rich purple concoction while Liliana put aside the rest of the pulp and pulled across the thick pastry crust she'd already baked. It was her special recipe, so buttery and rich it melted in the mouth. Even the cook had praised her for her pie crust - especially because she only ever made it for him, not for her father. Never for her father. But she would make it for the Lord of the Black Castle.

"There!" Jissa's voice rose in excitement. "Try, try!"

Feeling like a child, Liliana brought a small glass to her lips, took a sip. Her eyes widened, met Jissa's across the top. Both of them tilted back their heads and gulped. They'd drunk half the jug when Jissa wiped off her milk moustache and said, "Bard would like this, I think. Yes, I think."

"So would His Lordship."