“Are you?” he said. “Are you, love?”
She lifted her head hopefully. She loved his kisses. Especially when she was lying down and her knees were not so badly affected.
He smiled at her and kissed her. She experimented. Instead of waiting for him to prod with his tongue through the seam of her lips, she parted them for him. And whenshe discovered the pleasure of moist flesh caressing moistflesh, she opened her mouth. His tongue came sliding hardand deep inside and she was very glad indeed that she waslying down. She would have disgraced herself utterly bycrumpling into a heap on the ground.
And then she felt alarm and pulled her head back sharply. One of her hands shot up to touch his forehead.
“John,” she said. She could hear her voice shaking. “You are fevered. You should have told me.”
His chuckle seemed to mock her terror. “My love,” he said. “My own little innocent. I am the big bad wolf inyour bed, I am afraid.”
She understood instantly. She lowered her hand and was glad of the darkness. She felt mortified.
“Adèle,” he said, “you married me to nurse me to my death. I know you love me, sweetheart. I know, too, thatyou did not expect this ever to be a normal marriage, aconsummated marriage. Perhaps you never wanted it to be.And if you still do not, I will respect your wishes. I willbe forever grateful for the selfless love you showed in marrying me. But if you do not want it, you are going to haveto remove yourself from my bed now or sooner—and stayaway. You do understand me, do you not?”
She felt such a deep stabbing of longing that she did not believe she would be able to speak if she tried. But she didtry.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Or I can move to another room,” he said. “There is no reason why it should be you, is there, merely because this is called themasterbedchamber?’ ’
“Don’t go,” she said, clutching his nightshirt. “Stay with me. Make me your wife. Oh, please, John, make meyour wife.”
She was frantic with need then. She had expected to die a maid. She had thought about it and accepted it as a consequence of her devotion to him. She would never marryagain after he had gone. She had decided that and had neverfelt any doubt that it was a decision she would never wantto revoke. There could never be anyone else after John.Never.
And now—there was to be John?
When his mouth came back to hers, she opened her own eagerly and waited for what was to happen. She knew—even the cold reason in her knew—that it was going to bethe very happiest night in her whole life.
He had woken up wanting her—and knowing that he was now strong enough to have her. But the matter was not assimple as merely reaching for her and taking her. He wasnot quite sure he had the right. Was he really her husband?In body certainly he was and in mind he half was—morethan half. As the days went by he found himself thinkingmore and more as the Regency John. But the other one—the twentieth-century John Chandler—was still there.Which one was he, exactly? Which one would he be forthe rest of his life?
He had just become engaged to Allison. He had had a number of women between the ages of seventeen andtwenty-eight, but he had committed himself to fidelity whenhe had agreed to marry Allison. Was it right to sleep nowwith Adèle?
But she was hiswife.
And he knew that if he had to go back to the twentieth century he would not be able to marry Allison after all. Hethought with grim humor of the reason he would have togive her if he was going to be honest. He could not marryher because he was in love with a woman almost two hundred years old.
Adèle was a virgin. With his Regency self he had no doubt of that, even though his other self might have takenfor granted that at the age of twenty-four she must havehad a few lovers. Was it right that he be the one to makelove to her first? Who would be doing it? But he knew theanswer to that. It would be her husband. He was her husband.
But what if the other John came back as sick as he had been? Would it be better for her not to have known theconsummation? And what if he left her pregnant?
But heknewthat John Chandler, Viscount Cordell, had not died so soon. And he knew that the two of them hadhad children. Was it his own history he had learned? Orwas it another man’s? He felt dizzy again, realizing that hewas seriously considering such a question.
It was his desire and his indecision that had driven him out of bed to pace for a while. He had decided to wait, tolet more time pass, to be more sure that he was here tostay. But then he had had that brief coughing spell as hewas about to slip back into bed, and she had woken up.
She was small and well-shaped without being in any way voluptuous. Every part of her was nicely in proportion withevery other part. He had noticed that with pleasure sincethe first time he woke up to her in his bed. Now he noticedit with desire.
She was virgin and innocent and totally inexperienced. He had known that from the start. She had not even knownhow to kiss sexually. And now she lay still and passive,obviously not knowing either what to do or what exactlywas about to happen to her. But there was a willingnessand a longing in her stillness, even an eagerness. He couldtell that. She wanted what was to happen. With him. Because she loved him.
He was fiercely glad that it was not the other John loving her tonight. Only he could give her everything there wasto give. Only he could give her the whole of himself.
He found her inexperience wholly endearing and not a little exciting. She had thought he had a fever.... And thenher embarrassment at realizing the truth had been almostpalpable.
He undid the buttons that held her nightdress closed to the throat and opened back the edges. He touched herbreasts one at a time, stroking them lightly, cupping them,rubbing his thumb very gently across the nipples, pulsinglightly against them. And while he did so, he leaned hishead back from hers so that he could watch her face in thefaint light from the window. She looked back until her eyelids fluttered closed and she made soft sounds of pleasure.
She was exquisitely feminine. He had to close his own eyes for a few moments in order to bring his desire undercontrol. He did not intend to do anything with her tonightthat might shock her too deeply. He intended only basicforeplay and a more lengthy union of their bodies. But hecertainly did not want to rush anything. He wanted to giveher pleasure, and more than pleasure. He wanted her to feelherself loved and cherished and worshiped and—-married.
He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her temples, her eyes, her ears. He closed his teeth over one earlobe and felt her shiver. He lowered his mouth to her breasts, drawing the nipples one at a time into his mouth and sucking as hewanted his child to do in nine months or so. And he tookher nightgown with both hands and moved it down and offher arms and down her body until he could toss it to oneside. He pulled off his own nightshirt and sent it to joinher nightdress.
