With no opposition from her, he reached up and gently pushed at the silky straps atop Claire’s shoulders. She shivered as the wispy gown glided down her body and pooled at her feet, totally exposing her to his view. He peeled the last barrier away from her, completely naked now, Claire covered herself. He moved her hands to her sides. Her nipples grazed the rough linen of his shirt.
“Never, ever cover yourself, Claire,” he rasped, and stood back. “I need to see your loveliness, to brand it on my mind forever. For I may never see you again.”
Trapped in a whirl of heady arousal, she paid that foretelling thought no mind. Hot eyes scanned her, he raised his finger and let it trail hotly from the cleft of her throat, down between the valley of her breasts. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the straw cot in the back room where he lay her down with reverence. He splayed his hands on both sides of her face, lifted it ever so lightly, until her eyes met his.
“Is this what you want, Claire?” He commanded her complete attention. He was giving her a way out. A choice to stop this madness. But how did she tell him of her own struggles? The reaffirmation of all she knew to be true and cruel about life, about her own existence, destined for precious little happiness.
Claire could scarcely speak. “It is complicated. I want to experience what it is between a man and a woman−so I have chosen you. I am afraid. You will not hurt−”
She wondered at his frown.
“Do you think me some untamed beast, Madame Blackmon?” He took a curl of her hair and pressed it between his fingers, letting its silk glide to the ends.
“Are you sure of this day−of wifely duty?”
Shirking out of his shirt, Claire reveled in the lean muscular lay of his chest, arms and shoulders. She longed to run her hands across his skin, to glide her fingers over every muscle and sinew of him. Her gaze followed the line of hair rising from beneath his breeches to his chest, admiring his trim waist and the width of his shoulders. As he removed his boots, pulsing heat spread between her legs. He would know what to do to feed the increasing ache there.
Claire licked her lips. He watched her with hunger. A slight sheen lit his body, sleek, muscular, and strong, without the excess bulk conspicuous of nobility. He finished shedding his breeches, and her eyes widened, riveted on his manhood, impressive and frightening. Were all men as magnificently endowed? She wondered.
“I will be tender with you, Claire,” he promised.
His gentleness was her undoing, for she grew terrified and excited. “Know, Claire, this is a time for sharing, not taking. It is a time for loving. But what would happen if something occurred to change us forever? That perhaps we are ruled by some unknown force, something opposed to chance, dominated by some unseen power that rules our destinies.”
Claire trembled too fevered with wanting to sort the implication of his words.
Devon took her into his arms, pillowing his head in the veil of her hair. He smelled wonderful. Clean, strong, healthy male, free of the cloying perfumes Sir Teakle used. He smelled of the outdoors, the sea and sweat. Both gazed into each other’s eyes, awed by the majesty of the moment, both understanding and yearning for so much more.
“Time flies on restive wings, Claire, but I promise this day something eternal will happen to us.” He brushed her hair with his fingertips. “How many times have I counted just to touch you? Now you are here in my arms, your warmth and sweet scent to abuse me even more.”
With incredible perceptiveness, she sensed his vulnerability and reached up to stroke his cheek, the bristles of a day’s growth of beard, rough against her fingertips. In a shivering trance of confusion, Claire stared at his lean tanned face while her uncertain mind superimposed other, gentle memories of him. The way he took her hand in the gaol, the sense of right and intimation of trust, a refuge from all her fears. She remembered the night of the ball, secluded in the governor’s garden, and him pointing out the stars. The way he listened to all the wrongs inflicted on her. His gentleness in caring for her cut hand, his gaze riveted on her with all the tenderness of the world. There existed a million different things about him that she held to her heart.
Claire felt the hard boldness of him, pressed to her side, saw the smoldering flames in his eyes. He bent to take her lips, searing a trail down her throat and shoulder. A warm hand closed over her breast, caressing in circles then capturing a nipple and squeezing it between his fingers before trailing to her next breast. She reached up and smoothed her hands over his shoulders, feeling his heat like a hot iron beneath her fingertips. And when she found the raised weal’s on his upper left back, she stopped and her eyes grew big. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “Courtesy of your uncle.”
“Oh, Devon.” She kissed the scars, a soft caress to heal him.
He crushed her to him, his hands exploring the hollows of her back and down over her hips, automatically she curled into the curve of his body. Her breasts tingled against the muscles of his chest. His hands and lips were everywhere, the gentle massage sending currents of desire through her. His mouth moved to her breast, his tongue caressed her sensitive swollen nipple. His hand seared a path down her abdomen and onto her thigh. He stroked there and she groaned into his mouth, pushing her hips into his hand. His palm sought the warmth of her woman’s mound, circling her wet cleft. Urging her thighs further apart, he slid his fingers into her.
“Let me ready you, Claire.” His deep voice slid along her veins like warm honey.
His mouth came down on her, sapping all her strength, making her boneless while he plied her intimately with his fingers, withdrawing and sinking with divine mastery over some unnamed edge. She writhed beneath him, her traitorous body arching toward the power of his ever present fingers. She could not get enough of him; her impatience grew to explosive proportions, his expert touch driving her to higher levels of ecstasy. She cried out for release, exploding in a downpour of fiery sensations.
“Devon.” She lay there in a gasping heap, her arm still trapped beneath his weight.
He laughed. “That is just a measure to prepare you. But there is much more that I intend to do to you to pleasure you. I smell your woman scent heavy about me. I sense your need. I will teach you, and you will remember me forever. There will be no one else, my dear wife.”
And she was startled by the chill that snaked down her spine from his bidding.
“Think of your body controlled by me, release all your inhibitions, Claire. I will mark your body. It will no longer belong just to you.”
`if she hadn’t heard the unsteadiness in his voice. But Claire ached too much down there to fight him. She needed, no…demanded release again. Devon was the only one able to fill that void. She did not want any more words from him and grew bold, capturing his manhood in her hand, she wickedly stroked him.
“Ah Claire, you do not know what a dangerous game you play,” he rasped. “But perhaps my sweet wife is more experienced than I think.”
He nudged her legs apart and entered her.
Devon thrust slowly into her with incredible control, playing at the mouth of her sex. Each time he penetrated a little further, stretching through her unbelievable tightness. Her arms slipped about his neck, letting him know what a vixen she was, but her eyes were shut tight. He poised ready to give her pleasure if it killed him, but it was an agony for him to keep this endless pace. Slow and easy, he reminded himself. He thrust again. Devon froze. With superhuman strength, he stopped, his manhood hard upon the barrier of her womanhood. “Christ, Claire you are a virgin?”
