“No, no, it isn’t,” she said. “He’s harassing me. Make him go away.”
“You heard the lady, sir. It seems you’re not very welcome here.”
“The lady is my wife,” said Dafydd. “And see this.” He pointed to his gash. “She did that.”
The police officers inspected the injury with interest.
“Looks nasty. You should get that seen to.”
“I will. After you’ve arrested her.”
“You want to charge your wife with assault, sir?”
He breathed deep and looked hard at Vanessa, giving her one last chance to let him in and save herself from arrest.
She didn’t speak, or even move.
“Yes,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off Karl-Heinz’s hands, watching as he rubbed balm into Milan’s whip marks. They were so strong, so gentle, so manly, the perfect distillation of everything that drew her to him.
She watched Milan twitch, heard him groan then sigh with relief. The redness of his skin was fading, but long livid streaks still stood out against his habitual alabaster pallor.
“Is that better?” asked Karl-Heinz in a low voice.
“Much. It’s so long since I was whipped. I forgot that it hurts.”
Karl-Heinz laughed.
“Try to remember it next time.”
“I will.”
“Oh, so you are thinking of doing this again?”
Lydia sat down on the bed by Milan’s head and stroked his brow.
“Don’t expect me to do that to you,” she said.
“I wouldn’t,” said Milan. “But Karl-Heinz is very good at what he does. Does he whip you that hard?”
“Not quite as hard as that,” said Karl-Heinz. “Sorry.”
Milan winced as Karl-Heinz’s magic fingers pressed a little too hard.
“I’d like to watch him and you,” said Milan, after recovering. “I bet it would be hot.”
“You never were the jealous type, were you?” said Karl-Heinz with a grin, putting the lid back on the jar and sitting on the bed beside Lydia.
“What would I be jealous of? Lydia isn’t going to stop loving me. I know that for a fact.”
“Oh, you do, do you? Cheeky bugger.” Lydia folded her arms.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “It’s true.”