She smiled. “The first thing you wanted to know after you concluded that you were not dead was if the letter was safe.”
“And you assured me that it was still hidden in your satchel.”
He drew her down onto the bed of straw. They lay together on his coat. In the moonlight she could see the dark heat of sexual desire in his eyes.
“I am not in the grip of a fever tonight.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she tumbled across his chest. “And the only pain I am experiencing at the moment is the sort caused by desire. Tonight I know exactly what I am doing. I want you, Amity, more than I have ever wanted any woman in my life.”
A thrilling awareness flashed through her. She clutched his shoulders and met his eyes, letting him know that she was ready for the adventure that awaited her.
“I want you, as well,” she said. “More than anything or anyone.”
He pulled her head down to his and kissed her again, a heavy, drugging kiss that ignited her senses. She felt his hands glide up her thighs under the hem of the camisole. When he touched her intimately between her legs it was her turn to take a sharp, astonished breath, but she did not relax her grip on his shoulders. Everything inside her seemed to be melting.
He stroked her in places where no man had ever touched her, eliciting sensations that she had sensed existed but had never really known. She was an experienced traveler but this was one journey she had never undertaken, perhaps because she had never encountered the right travel companion, she thought. But tonight everything felt right. This was the man, the place and the time. Those factors might never come together again. She must seize the moment or forever regret her failure of nerve.
An unfamiliar tension was building inside her. She knew Benedict’s hand was wet from the damp heat he had drawn forth with his touch. Part of her was embarrassed, but he certainly did not seem to mind and she was too excited to pull away.
He turned her onto her back and leaned over her, probing her gently. His mouth closed over one breast and she found herself arching against him in a silent plea for more.
He released her to open the front of his trousers. A shock of uncertainty went through her when she saw the hard, rigid length of him revealed in the silver light.
“I’m not sure—” she began.
He loomed over her again, blocking out the moonlight, and silenced her with a kiss.
“Touch me,” he said against her mouth. “You don’t know how I have longed to feel your hand on me.”
Cautiously she encircled him with her fingers. He groaned. She started to move her hand slowly, experimentally. His breathing grew harsh in her ears, as if he was having to exert enormous control. His brow was as damp with sweat as it had been when he was in the grip of the fever.
He raised his head. In the deep shadows his face was stark and intense. His eyes gleamed with a dark desire. Knowing that he wanted her so badly was all it took to overcome the last vestiges of her uncertainty.
He stroked her until she was breathless. Until the tension inside her was wound so tight she thought she could not bear it any longer. She sank her nails into his shoulders.
Her release blindsided her. Without warning the tight, heavy, throbbing sensation inside her burst forth in a series of pulsing waves. A rush of euphoric surprise took her by storm and suddenly she was flying.
Benedict braced himself above her and used one hand to guide himself to her core. He thrust into her in one long, relentless stroke.
The invasion brought her crashing back to earth. She gave a small, choked shriek and instinctively tried to pull away. Her nails became claws on the front of Benedict’s shirt.
Benedict gripped her hips tightly, anchoring her.
“Relax,” he urged. He rested his damp forehead on hers. “Just relax.”
For a moment she dared not move. Neither did he. She could feel the fierce knots of the muscles of his back beneath her hands. He was struggling for control of his passions while he waited for her to get over the initial shock. The knowledge that he was forced to work so hard to restrain himself reassured her.
Slowly her body adjusted to him. Taking a quick breath, she dared to wriggle a little in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. Benedict groaned and started to move, cautiously at first and then with increasing confidence. She found the sensation strange and uncomfortable but no longer intolerable.
“Are you all right?” he said into her ear.
“I think so,” she said. “It is certainly no worse than riding a camel.”
He uttered an exclamation that sounded like a cross between a growl and a laugh. And then he began to move more rapidly, increasing the speed and power of each thrust until she was once again breathless, once again clinging to him for dear life.
He drove into her one last time. Everything about him went taut, his sleek back bowed. And then he stunned her by wrenching free of her tightly stretched body. He spent himself into the handkerchief, his climax raging through him in powerful waves that seemed to go on forever.
When it was over Benedict collapsed beside her. His eyes were closed. In spite of the discomfort and the uncertainty of the future, the sheer wonder of the moment thrilled her.
She had just made one of life’s most mysterious journeys and discovered what lay at the end of the adventure. She knew now what it was like to take a lover.
