He met her gaze, his eyes filled with a wonder that she realized was an echo of her own.
“It seems too much for chance alone to have brought us together.”
Melissande smiled.“Will you tell me a tale of romance and destined love?”she asked lightly.
Quinn smiled.“My mother believed in it.She told me many such tales.”
She bit her tongue, lest she note that such a conviction must have led his mother astray if it had brought her to Jerome.
Quinn must have noticed for he shook his head.“She loved another man,” he confessed, again watching his fingers stroke her breast.“But they were not allowed to wed.Her father arranged her match with my father, and though she was unhappy, she endeavored to be a dutiful wife.”
Melissande watched his throat work.“What happened?”she whispered.
Quinn shook his head.“I cannot think of it, even now,” he admitted, his voice husky and she reached to touch his cheek.He turned his head and planted a kiss against her palm, his gaze locked with hers for a potent moment.
Then he smiled and she knew he would make a jest.“But we have an injustice to address, my lady,” he said.
“An injustice?”
“Aye.You were able to look without restraint, while I do not have that privilege.Should we not be fair?”He indicated her chemise.It was unlaced at the neck and her breast exposed to his view, but the fine cloth covered her to her knees.
“You would look upon me?Again?”
He lifted a brow.“Surely you do not imagine that I am much more familiar with the makings of ladies than you were with that of knights?”
He was teasing her.Melissande tore her gaze away, her hands rising to the tie of her chemise.It felt uncommonly bold to expose herself to his view, yet he was her spouse.
Quinn retreated to his side of the bed.“The choice is yours,” he assured her, and she knew he would turn away, or even leave, if she so asked.
And that made her decision so simple that it might have been inevitable.
Chapter 9
Melissande nodded then sat up beside Quinn, filled with resolve.She seized the hem of her chemise and lifted it over her head, casting it toward the foot of the bed before she could change her thinking.She looked away from Quinn, uncertain what he would say or do.
She was nude.Exposed.Vulnerable.Her heart fluttered at her throat and she took a quick breath, hoping her instinct had been right.She feared otherwise when silence filled the solar.
“Beautiful,” Quinn breathed finally.
Melissande dared to look, only to find his eyes glowing.His hand moved slowly from her waist and she knew she did not imagine that his fingers quivered.
His uncertainty reassured her as naught else could, and Melissande rolled toward him.Quinn’s other hand rose to her cheek and she reveled in the strength of his fingers tangling in her hair.His hand swept lower in an endless caress, his attention diverted from her face as he avidly watched its progress.
Melissande looked at his lips and considered how she would kiss him.She would take his strong jaw in her hands, just once, just to see how it felt, and press her lips resolutely against his.She would arch her back so that her breasts rubbed in that tangle of russet hair and Quinn would open his mouth to her.
The audacity of the impulse stole her breath away.
Then Quinn flicked a glance to her and grinned mischievously.Melissande did not know what to expect, but suddenly he wriggled his thumb within her navel.
It tickled.She laughed, even as she writhed to escape him.Quinn chuckled and his other hand joined the fray.
“Quinn!”
“Ticklish, my lady?”he demanded, his eyes dancing.
“Oh, Aye!Oh, stop!”Melissande could barely catch her breath from laughing.She twisted desperately, pushing at Quinn’s hands in an effort to escape.“Nay!Stop, please!I beg of you!”
Quinn stopped suddenly, his hands locked around her waist, his fingertips too close to her ticklish spot for her to relax.He loomed over her and Melissande did not trust the unruly twinkle in his eyes.
