Her surprise struck a chord of tenderness this time. So strong yet so fragile, hisselkie. He cupped her cheek. "It certainly wasn't for my own sake." Sobering, he forced himself to address the reality of their situation. "I haven't a reputation to lose, Marianne. I'm not rich or titled—no one gives a damn what I do or whom I sleep with. But you... any man would count himself blessed to be your lover." Gruffly, he admitted, "I suppose I don't know why you've chosen me."
"You're right—you are anidiot." She tugged down on his head until his nose nearly touched hers. "Haven't you heard anything I've said to you? I've never met another man like you, Ambrose. Not a single one."
He shook his head. "I'm a simple man. An ordinary one."
One with too many troubles. His ex-betrothed's voice played in his head:I won't go down with a sinking ship.Compared to Jane, Marianne had far more to lose in terms of status and opportunity. How could he ask such a sacrifice of her?
"I've told you before. You do know what your problem is, don't you?" she said.
His father's debts? His motherless siblings? Or perhaps the fact that in order to protect the woman he loved, he was lying to her like the veriest scoundrel?
"You've told me before: you think I'm a prig," he said dully. "A moralistic snob."
Hell, he agreed with her. His foolish pride had been his downfall. If only he could go back, do things differently…
"No, I think you're a man who takes too much on his shoulders." Her hand came to rest against his jaw, and her touch was tender, so very good. To his shame, he could not bring himself to part from it. "Why must you go at everything alone?"
She'd exposed it: the cold, solitary truth.
"Because," he said, his voice raw, "there's no one to go at it with."
Sea-green depths glimmered up at him. "I've long stopped trusting in the future. In making promises when I've yet to fulfill the one vow that matters most—the one that I made to Primrose the day she was taken." Her voice hitching, Marianne said, "I haven't much to offer. But what I have—this moment—I give gladly to you. Tonight I am yours, if you'll have me."
"It's more than I deserve," he said roughly.
So much more—but I can't let you go. God help me, I can't.
Before she could respond, he took her lips, drank in the cinnamon succor of her kiss. For however long this fantasy—thisnow—lasted, she was his. He'd be a fool to waste a single moment of it. Leveraging onto his side, he explored the delights before him. Her full, firm breasts, those lovely nipples which he had to taste again. He bent his head... blinking when he suddenly found himself pushed onto his back.
Marianne climbed over him, straddling his hips. Her hair cascaded to her waist, offering peek-a-boo views of her creamy skin. When her dewy thatch brushed against his abdomen, his cock rose in an immediate salute beneath his smalls.
"I want to try something different tonight," she whispered. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," he managed. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll—" He bit out a groan as she gently raked her nails over one of his nipples.
"I want you to lie there and let me explore as I wish. Could you do that?" His shaft turned harder than an iron pike, ready to tear through his trousers as she murmured, "Can you let me take charge, Ambrose?"
God Almighty, he'd never been asked such a thing. In the past, he'd always focused on his partner's needs. It had been a point of pride, in fact. He knew he was neither handsome nor rich, but he had the desire and the skill to see to his bedmate's satisfaction. Marianne's request, however, turned the tables. No woman had wanted to take the reins from him before. No woman had looked at him with such hunger in her eyes—with such sweet, wicked desire.
By Jove, what was Marianne capable of? Flames of anticipation licked his spine, made hotter by the spark of uncertainty. Could he relinquish control, put himself at the mercy of this naughty, unpredictableselkie? She wetted her lips, a small nervous motion, and he realizedshewas nervous too. Within that alluring skin lay vulnerability: this was about seduction, yes, but also something else. Something deeper she wanted to show him.
His reply emerged, thick and guttural. "Do as you wish, sweetheart."
29
A thrill tingledover Marianne's skin.He trusts me. He's letting me take control.
She hadn't realized until that moment how very badly she wanted him to have faith in her. Perhaps it was her own sense of honor that demandedquid pro quo: after all, she had yielded more to him than she had to any man. Was it any surprise that she expected his trust in return? Yet this was about more than equality. Or even trust. What she truly wanted was to... ease his pain. To take away this proud, self-reliant man's solitude, if only for the night.
Recalling instructions he'd once given her, she said, "Put your hands on the headboard, then. And don't move them until I say so."
His amber eyes watchful, he reached behind his head, his long fingers curling around two wooden spindles. Eyeing the lean, delicious stretch of him, she felt a warm flutter in her belly.
"Like that?" he said gravely.
"Precisely." Her voice sounded throaty to her own ears. "And for following orders, you shall receive a reward."
Leaning down, she kissed his jaw. The first bristles of a night beard had already sprouted. She liked the faint rasp of his skin and his scent of soap and leather, honest and masculine just like him. Her mouth pooled with the need to taste every inch of him.
