“Did his white hair remind you of anything?” Roman offered.
She closed her eyes and saw something white flash through her mind. “His hair was as white as the bedspread I used to have on my bed when I was a little girl.”
“Good, good. Now, what does the bedspread make you think about?”
“I spilled tea on that bedspread and tried to hide it with a quilt, but Mrs. Singleton found the stain. Mrs. Singleton was my governess, and she always smelled of peppermint because her pockets were full of the candies. Once she and I went on an outing to the park, and we fell asleep on the bench. I woke up first and tickled Mrs. Singleton awake by brushing a dandelion under her nose. She sneezed so hard that her spectacles flew off and landed in the grass. A man stepped on and broke them, so I had to lead poor Mrs. Singleton home.”
When she opened her eyes she saw Roman smiling at her.
“Tell me what Mrs. Singleton’s spectacles have to do with Oble Smott’s white hair, Theodosia.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s country chatting.”
She realized there was nothing to analyze about the oral meandering after all. Such manner of talk was a simple matter of putting memories into a string of oddly connected, but friendly chatter. And strange though the chatter seemed to her intellectual ears, she’d somehow become accustomed to it and found it rather soothing.
She thought about all the things Oble Smott had chatted about: his mule, dog, and problems with the food in Mexico. He disagreed with hurrying. He’d not done anything of vital importance in his life, but he’d lived his simple days happily.
Hold on tight to each other, hear?he’d advised.Love good, laugh a lot, and y’all’ll have a real fine life together.
Fine lives, she thought. Separate lives—Roman’s in Texas, hers in Brazil.
There wouldn’t be anyone in Brazil with whom she could practice country chatting. Dr. Wallaby wouldn’t understand it and wouldn’t have time to learn it. If not for Roman,shewouldn’t have understood or taken the time to learn it, either.
She wondered how many, many other things he could teach her that she would never have the opportunity to learn, and the painful emptiness filled her once more.
“Theodosia, did you hear what I said?”
“What? No. No, I’m sorry, Roman, I did not.”
“I asked if you’d forgotten about last night. Judging by that blank look on your face, you have. I swore I’d remind you in the morning, and I always keep my promises.”
She crossed her hands over her breasts. “Roman, Oble Smott will see—”
“He’s long gone,” Roman said, pulling at the ribbons on the front of her gown. “Besides, I’m sure he suspected we were going to indulge in a little nightgown-pulling-upping and seed-spilling as soon as he left. He won’t come back.”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to their sleeping pallet. There he laid her down and stretched out beside her. “He’s right, you know. Oble Smott is. People do hurry too much, Theodosia. I’m going to take his advice and make slow, slow love to you.”
She turned into his arms, deciding that she, too, would heed Oble’s sage advice. Dismissing thoughts of tomorrow, she concentrated on what was before her very eyes.
And oh, what a sexy sight it was. Roman’s gaze flickered with blue fire, and his desire became her own.
She didn’t remember him taking her nightrail off, nor could she recall him shrugging out of his breeches. Her recollections started when his lips met the soft sensitive flesh at the hollow of her throat and he began to kiss her body.
And while he so thoroughly caressed her with his mouth, his heavy male hardness slid upon her as well. His lips…his hands…the cascade of his long raven hair…his hot arousal…
Every part of him touched every part of her. She bucked beneath his skillful stroking, her body trembling for the feel of hard male flesh inside her.
Sensitive to her need though he was, Roman wanted her hotter. He lifted her to her knees, then lay down with his head propped up on the mound of thick pillows. With his hands, he showed her what he wanted her to do.
When she realized her dark and compelling lover’s intentions, Theodosia gasped with surprise but, with the most profound anticipation lending strength to her quivering muscles, she submitted to the urgings of his hands and moved to kneel over his face.
One hand kneading her breast and the other fondling her bottom, Roman nuzzled with his lips the soft pale hair between her thighs, then began to tease her wet female flesh with the tip of his tongue. He knew where to touch her, knew precisely how to set her ablaze with deeper need.
His sensual caresses spread fire through Theodosia’s every nerve. She arched her back; her head fell over her shoulders, and her flaxen hair pooled on Roman’s smooth brown chest. Circling her hips over his warm mouth, she abandoned herself to the glorious pleasure.
Vitally aware of each small tremor of rising bliss he brought to her, Roman continued pleasuring her until he knew she’d almost reached the pinnacle of ecstasy. And then, with one strong, fluid motion, he took hold of her hips and pushed her downward.
