when he realized just how ridged her body had grown.

Her tense fingers were barely able to wrap around his. "I'm afraid my muscles are protesting my prolonged confinement."

He attempted to comfort her. "A steaming hot bath after all this is done should set things right for you."

She sighed and in her weariness and need to remain alert she teased him. "You tempt me yet again, my lord."

He laughed softly, admiring her ability to joke in this awkward situation. "I have not even begun to

tempt you, Sarina."

"The solvent, sir," Bernard called out.

"I'll be right back," he said, and with a gentle stroke of his hand to her waist he floated down.

"Dagon," she called to him anxiously. "Please hurry back."

His feet touched the stone when he said teasingly, "Miss me already, do you?"

"I miss you terribly," she said on a whispered sigh.

"I'll rescue you, Sarina, on that you have my word," he said with a chivalry that seemed long since gone.

"If only you were the one who could," she whispered softly and sniffled back her tears.

Margaret warned him that the solvent had to be dissolved in hot water that was sprinkled with a liberal mixture of herbs. She advised him that she would prepare a tub to soak Sarina in once she was removed from the chimney.

Bernard raised an eyebrow, though Margaret did not find it odd when Dagon ordered her to prepare his tub for Sarina. She immediately took herself off to do as directed. Bernard remained with Dagon to help him.

Dagon had a.s.sessed the situation while he had talked with Sarina. He knew exactly where the solvent needed to be rubbed on her to free her, and he wasted no time in sending the bucket upward with the crook of his finger.

He instructed Bernard to remain close by and then floated up near Sarina. He managed to work himself close enough to her to be able to reach the pertinent areas and he quickly dipped his hands into the thick greasy mess that thank goodness did not smell as bad as it looked.

"I'm going to coat your body with this solvent and slip you right out of here," he said, making sure she understood why his hands were about to become intimate with her. "Ready?"

"I trust you," she said without hesitation.

Her simple remark affected him much more than he was prepared to admit, and he made a concentrated effort to focus all his attention and emotions on the task at hand. He worked his goop-covered hands up the front of her blouse, sc.r.a.ping his knuckles on the rough bricks that held her prisoner. He coated her ribs and placed gobs of the solvent on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, ma.s.saging the thick goop over every inch of her chest.

He repeatedly sunk his hand into the bucket to retrieve more solvent and continued to concentrate on his ch.o.r.e. He worked the solvent over her stiff arms, and she occasionally moaned when he touched a sore muscle.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, having moved himself closer to her so that his hand could reach farther up. His head now rested on her hip while his hand worked a thick portion of goop over her tightly wedged shoulders.

"You're not hurting me," she rea.s.sured him. "Actually, your hand feels quite good on my-" She paused a moment as if weighing her words. "Stiff muscles."

He tried not to think of how good her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt in his hand. The soft mounds fit his palm just perfectly, but this certainly was not the time for such sensuous thoughts. He was rescuing her not ravishing her. But still, she did feel so very good.

He focused on her shoulders and down her back, which was the most difficult part of her to reach. His hands worked their way down a little more roughly than he intended, and she moaned.

It was not a suffering moan. It was a responsive moan, one that responded most satisfyingly to his touch.

He ignored the soft ache that issued from her lips and ignored his own l.u.s.ty ache. He worked heavy gobs of the solvent again over her shoulders and down her arms. He ma.s.saged a good portion over her neck to protect her skin when he attempted to dislodge her.

Then his hand fought his way up her backside, squeezing the firm flesh harder than he had intended. His intimate action elicited another moan that left little doubt to either of them that his hands were causing her sensual havoc.

He worked as fast as he could, warning himself that she was exhausted and in her fatigued condition her body instinctively responded without thought or reason. He didn't bother to consider that his own body had responded out of plan, old-fashioned desire.

"Almost finished," he said and roamed his hand slowly over her body, making certain the solvent covered all the necessary places. It was a methodical task, though it took on the intimacy of a lover acquainting himself with a new partner, and this time they both moaned.

"Please, hurry, Dagon," she pleaded. "This ordeal has become unbearable."

He had to agree with her, though he remained silent and finished the task with a hasty hand that t.i.tillated all the more. He promised himself he would free her and leave her in Margaret's care. He swore he would, he vowed he would, he d.a.m.n well knew he wouldn't.

"Sarina," he said gently. "I'm going to slowly ease you down toward me. If I tug too hard or you feel any pain, let me know."

"I'll be fine," she said, her voice sounding a bit stronger, though it quivered.

With a swipe of his finger he sent the bucket to land gently on the ground and wiped his goop-covered hands on his sweatshirt. He then positioned his hands below her hips on her thighs were there wasn't as much goop and tugged slowly. He had trouble getting a solid hold and grew annoyed. Knowing his only choice was to grasp on to something solid and free of the solvent, he ran his hands beneath her skirt.

"Sorry, but I need to get a good hold of you," he said, explaining his intimate intrusion. His fingers rushed up her legs and caught on the edge of her lace panties. He cursed his fumbling fingers and the l.u.s.ty thoughts that invaded his senses and finally grabbed a solid hold of her thighs.

"Please do whatever you will," she pleaded softly.

Her words begged for release, and he pressed his forehead to her hip as he took a calming breath. Only this b.u.mbling witch who haunted his every thought and intruded upon all his senses could turn a difficult situation into an erotic one. With a groan of annoyance Dagon gave a gentle tug and he felt her slip. Only slightly but still her body moved. He tried again, and again her body slid a little way down the wall.

He called down to Bernard. "It's working! Tell Margaret and be ready with the blanket."

"Yes, sir!" Bernard shouted, and Dagon heard him rush out of the room.

He then directed himself to Sarina. "This may take a little time. I don't want to rush and hurt you."

"I'm all right, really I am. I'm just very tired and stiff."

"Margaret has a hot bath waiting for you, keep your mind focused on that."

She sighed. "Oh, yes, I will do that. A hot bath, how wonderful."

Dagon worked her down inch by inch, moving slowly down the chimney with her. He heard Bernard return, and he hastily told him that all was in readiness for Sarina.

Dagon kept himself focused, a difficult task since as they made their way down, the chimney widened and she began to slip down his body. Her limbs were rigid from her long confinement, and she could not move them at all.

"I feel so helpless," she said when finally she was free and her head came to rest on his chest.

His hands had forced her skirt up, and while he wished her no further embarra.s.sment, he could not push her skirt back down. He needed to keep his hands around her waist and besides the solvent already had her bunched-up skirt stuck together.

When he finally had her down in the mouth of the hearth, he lifted her as easily as he could into his arms, and Bernard didn't waste a minute draping the blue cotton blanket over her.

"Margaret waits upstairs, she will see to her care," Bernard informed him.

Dagon nodded and hurried out of the parlor and up the stairs.

Sarina continued to rest her head on his chest. "My arms, I cannot move them."

"Your muscles are rigid from being wedged in so long. It will ease once you soak in the hot water."

Her voice held a touch of panic as though she just realized she could do nothing for herself. "Margaret will help me?"

Dagon knew he couldn't turn her over to Margaret's care. He had to make certain she was all right. He wanted to see for himself with his own eyes, and he wanted his hands to be the ones who took care of her. He didn't understand why he felt the need, but it was an urgent need and one he didn't intend to ignore.

He refrained from answering her as he made his way down the hall to his quarters.

Realizing her whereabouts, she asked anxiously, "Why are you taking me up here? I thought Margaret was to look after me?"

He answered her honestly. "I ordered the bath prepared in my quarters. The tub is large and will be more comfortable for you."

Sarina shivered. "Suddenly I'm cold."

"A normal reaction to your ordeal," he a.s.sured her and entered his bedroom, walking straight for the bathroom. "You'll be in that hot bath in no time."

Margaret's presence sobered him fast and made him realize he had no choice but to leave Sarina in her care. Reluctantly he lowered her feet to the floor, but her legs gave way before he released his hold on her.

After several minutes it was obvious that Margaret was not going to be able to handle Sarina's care on her own. Between her stiff limbs and the gobs of goop, there was no way Margaret had the strength to hold her and undress her, never mind lift her into the tub.

Dagon spoke softly to her. "I think it would be best if I helped you into the tub."

Sarina was so embarra.s.sed she buried her face against his sticky sweatshirt.

Margaret was the one who eased the situation. "Dagon has the strength, patience, and honor to handle what must be done. I think it is best if I go fix you a hot pot of tea and something to eat."

Margaret didn't wait for any acknowledgments; she made a hasty exit.

Dagon slipped the blanket off Sarina. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

A weak smile teased her lips. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Seven.

Dagon worked at the b.u.t.tons on Sarina's blouse. Trying to hold her and undress her at the same time was proving difficult. While her legs had grown weak her upper body had remained rigid and he worried about causing her discomfort.

He looked about to see if there was anyplace he could place her that would make disrobing easier for him and less stressful for her, but nothing proved adequate. There was a small vanity bench with a soft cushion top against the wall near the door, but that would not prove entirely useful.

If he were able to use his powers, this task would already be accomplished, but no matter how many times he attempted, his skill failed him. He knew his talent would work on anything not connected with Sarina, but she herself remained impervious to a witch's magic.

He finished unb.u.t.toning her blouse and managed with tender care to slip the gooey garment off her. His eyes could not help but stray to her black lace bra and her hard nipples that protruded against the sheer material.

She moaned when he slipped the gooey garment off her shoulders, and he winced when he caught sight of her bruised and scratched skin.

"Did you struggle to free yourself?" he asked, more concerned with her immediate condition than his l.u.s.t-filled thoughts. He tossed the blouse on top of the discarded blanket and surveyed her bruises.

Sarina rested her head on his chest. "At first I did, but I think my futile attempts only worsened my situation."

Dagon ran gentle fingers over the scratches. "The water may sting these abrasions."

Sarina attempted to ignore the flutter in her stomach. His touch was incredibly tender and caring, not to mention it tingled her skin. "I'll manage."

"I'll tend to them after your bath," he informed her and moved his hands to the b.u.t.ton on her skirt. He wanted to afford her as much privacy as possible, if privacy was possible in this awkward situation. He thought to rid her of her outside garments first and then remove her bra and panties last, leaving her feeling the least vulnerable as possible.

He eased her skirt down along with her black silk slip and swore silently. The woman obviously had a penchant for black lace undergarments, and he had to admit her choice was exceptional.

The skirt dropped down around her ankles when he worked it past her thighs, and his glance dropped right along with it. She wore the slimmest, sheerest, scantiest pair of black lace panties he had ever laid eyes on, and he had viewed his share. The wisp of black lace hugged her skin beneath beige-colored panty hose, and he wondered if he could keep his eager hands from appearing too anxious of divesting her of the intrusive stockings.

He hoped her head continued to remain resting on his shoulder because if she ever glanced in his eyes she would see how his pa.s.sion for her raged much too close to the edge.

He slipped his fingers beneath the panty hose waistband and began easing the garment down over her hips. She was slight of build, her waist narrow and just a hint of a curve to her slim hips, and her stomach, though relatively flat, possessed the most charming little mound where his hand now rested.

He ran his hand back and forth across her stomach, working the stockings farther and farther down and feeling every inch of her incredibly cool soft skin. When he worked the stockings down near her knees, he slipped his sneakers off, kicking them away, and lifted his bare foot to yank the stockings down to her ankles.

"Almost done," he said when he felt her shiver. She did not respond and her head did not move off his chest. She most certainly must feel uncomfortable with him undressing her and especially with being so dependent on him at the moment.

And yet he liked the feeling her temporary helplessness gave him, and that thought disturbed him. He always liked strong, independent women, and yet here he was enjoying looking after a totally inept, dependent witch.

He shook his head at his crazy thoughts and gently lifted her into his arms and carried her to the tub. He sat her on the edge of the black tub and balanced her with one arm around her waist as he knelt on one knee to remove the panty hose bunched at her ankles. He then stood her up once again, quickly unhooked her bra, tossed it to join the pile of discarded garments and then with the same haste removed her panties.

He could not allow himself to think at this moment or look at her with the eyes of a man who found her incredibly desirable. He had to remain a gentleman-he simply had to.

One gentle scoop had her back in his arms, and with care he eased her down into the steaming water. Her groan and cry startled him, and he realized the steaming water had penetrated her scratches.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly, "but it is better you remain in the heat of the water. It will help ease the stiffness from your joints."

She agreed with a nod and closed her eyes, relinquishing her complete care and safety to him. And he had every intention of seeing that she was looked after and carefully tucked into a soft welcoming bed for the night.

He released his hold on her and took a brief second to remove his sweatshirt, the arms having gotten a thorough soaking clear up to his elbows. She looked serene lying there with the steaming water lapping over her. Her taut nipples bobbed to the surface every now and then as her body floated contentedly in the water.

She did not possess a perfect body, but then perfection could never be truly seen, only felt, and what he felt when he looked at her was perfection at its most extraordinary.