He reached out one long arm reached out and caught her to him, like a lion interrupting the pulsing rush of an eagle. “If you don’t want me to fall in love with you, you’re going to have to start not looking so lovely. Maybe have the seamstress sew a couple of potato sacks together.”
She widened her eyes.
“I’m not jesting. You’re too beautiful.”
He pushed her back until she bumped against the cabinet. His mouth skimmed her jaw, down her throat, his teeth grazing her skin and the shadow of his beard scratching her.
Before I go…
She pushed at him, holding his hands. A part of her told her that she should stop, that she should think this through, but the other voices in her head drowned her out. She wanted him more than she wanted to breathe.
“I want to be with you.”
Tension in the air snapped like the rigging on a full-blown sail. “You know this is illogical,” he said.
“Sometimes it is good to be illogical.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rachel gasped when he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the other room, shutting the door with his foot, a latch clicked into place. He stood her beside the cot. “What we are to do, Rachel is between a man and woman,husband and wife.”
She pressed two fingers to his lips. “I want this to be magic, to be memorable.”
“Do not move,” he ordered.
With no opposition from her, he reached behind and unfastened a row of buttons, pushing away her dress. She shivered as the delicate gown glided down her body and pooled at her feet. He tugged at her lacings, tossed the corset away. Naked now, Rachel covered herself. He moved her hands to her sides, her nipples grazing the soft silk of his shirt.
“You never need to cover yourself. You are beyond beautiful.”
Trapped in a whirl of heady arousal, she watched, intrigued as he shirked out of his shirt, reveling in the lean muscularity 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. Pulsing heat spread between her legs.
“What if someone discovers us?”
He looked over his shoulder. “The lock would hold back an invasion of the Huns.”
Rachel moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched her with hunger in his eyes. A slight sheen lit his body, sleek, and strong, without the excess bulk conspicuous of nobility. He finished shedding his breeches, and her eyes widened, her gaze riveted to his manhood, impressive and frightening.
“I will be gentle with you,” he promised.
Husband and wife.A proposal? Her heart hammered.Impossible.But his tenderness was her undoing, for she grew terrified and excited and she wanted it to be him before she withdrew to the isolation of Boston as a lonely spinster. To have this experience with the man she loved but could not have.
“This is a time for sharing, a time for loving.” Reverently, he lay her on the bed, and then took her in his arms, pillowing his head in the veil of her hair. He smelled wonderful. Clean, strong, vital male. They gazed into each other’s eyes awed by the majesty of the moment, both understanding and yearning for so much more.
He brushed her hair with his fingertips. “How many times have I conjured this very moment in my mind? Now you are here in my arms, your warmth and sweet scent to taunt me.”
With incredible perceptiveness, she sensed his vulnerability and reached up to stroke his cheek, outlining the sharp-angled planes of his face. She memorized everything about him. To know the way his analytical mind worked, his fight and thrill of discovery, his persistence, and talent. The way he kept her safe and secure. The way he listened to the wrongs inflicted on her. His consideration, his caring, his gaze riveted on her with tenderness. There existed a million different things about him that she held to her heart.
“Let this time be a long series of experiments,” she whispered. She was a trembling bow-string ready to snap.
Rachel 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 shoulder, feeling his heat like a hot iron beneath her fingertips.
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 hand 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.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes.” She arched toward him.
His hand seared a path down her abdomen and onto her thigh. He stroked there and she groaned, pushing her hips into his hand. His palm sought the warmth of her woman’s mound, circling her wet cleft. She jerked.
