When it was off entirely, she could only stare at it, sitting harmlessly in his hand, the ribbon strung through it, almost as though he’d just performed a very clever magic trick.
Sebastian set them aside and massaged her finger with both hands.
“Don’t put it on again until he has it sized for you.” The gravelly sound in his voice ought to have been alarming. They sat very near each other. If she was much closer, she’d be sitting in his lap. Was he as affected by her nearness as she was by his?
Margaret forced herself to speak. “I do not intend to.” Ever? Or until it was sized? “I’m sorry you brought it all this way for nothing.”
He jerked his head up and eyes the color of a stormy sky seemed to stare into her very soul. “Are you? Sorry that I brought it?”
They were no longer speaking of the ring. They were talking about him. About his presence in her life. Because if he had not come, then she would have climbed into bed with George and everything… would be exactly the same?
No.
Meeting Sebastian Wright had changed everything for her. He might not be in her life for very long but perhaps he’d had a purpose after all.
“I am not. I am not sorry that you traveled all this way.” The rest of the world faded away in that moment, and Margaret leaned forward to touch her lips to his jaw. “Thank you. For everything.” But when she went to draw away from him, she was instead caught up in his arms.
“Don’t thank me, Maggie.” His mouth claimed hers, and she couldn’t bring herself to put up any resistance whatsoever. “Not yet.”
His hands were in her hair, and then she was lying on her back, his weight above her. “Maggie.” The heat of his breath trailed from her mouth to her jaw, her neck. “What are you doing to me? Is this some sort of test?”
It must be. But she couldn’t speak. Because she didn’t know the answer. And if it was a test, sent from either heaven or hell, it was surely hers to pass or fail—not his.
“I can’t stop thinking of you,” he murmured as he removed the pins from her hair. Mesmerized, he spread the long strands all around her face on the grass where they lay and took his time to study it lovingly, seemingly fascinated by this uniquely feminine aspect of her. “I couldn’t stop thinking of this, of the sensation of it sliding through my fingers, how it caught in the whiskers on my face, like gossamer, or a silken spider’s web…”
Margaret stared into his eyes, unable to speak. She’d doubted practically everything she’d believed about herself over the past few days: her dreams for the future, her memories of the past, and more than ever before, what she needed in the present.
In that moment, lying in his embrace, she believed she’d rather die than push him away. How long had she craved a lover’s touch?
He moved his attention to her neck, to her shoulders, sliding her sleeve and bodice out of his way. Margaret couldn’t move. She dare not speak.
“And your skin,” he continued. “I couldn’t forget your scent, your taste, how it felt beneath my lips, on my tongue.”
She closed her eyes and shivered. “Sebastian.”
His mouth on her chest now, he inhaled. “Lavender and… woman.” Continuing his journey, his tongue trailed around the curve of one breast while his hand cradled the other. “You asked me to forget, but how could I, Maggie? How could I forget this?” His mouth clamped down and he suckled.
She had done her best to forget that night, as well, and she had failed miserably.
He was gentle at first but gradually increased the suction, almost to the point of pain. Margaret couldn’t hold back her moan of satisfaction, clutching his head, her fingers threaded through silky black hair.
It had been so long—so very, very long.
His hand left her breast to trail up her leg, beneath her skirt.
She wanted him. She wanted this man, and she didn’t care about anything else. Her feelings made no sense at all. They had nothing to do with her desire to become a mother. Nothing to do with anything rational or logical. Only that she wanted him to make love to her. She wanted him to put himself inside of her.
“I won’t allow you to forget,” he promised. She parted her legs for him.
His hand covered her center. “Soft, wet. Will you remember this, Maggie?”
A gasp of pleasure tore past her throat.
He’d unlocked these needs that first night in her bed. He’d released them, and she hadn’t been able to cage them again. She writhed as his fingers played with the sensitive flesh between her legs. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her.
Watching her closely, he slid one finger inside. “You like this.”
She nodded. She had only ever done anything like this in the complete cover of darkness. The sunlight was waning, but golden light cast his skin a sensual bronze. She felt exposed, vulnerable.
