“I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant.”
That was interesting, because Shannon herself wasn’t sure what she meant. “Could you…that is, could we…you know…try it again?”
Brandon was solemn. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Not for anything would she admit she rather liked it.
Brandon knew he should leave, but as he stared at Shannon’s upturned face, the faint trembling of her lips, reason was abandoned in favor of the powerful urge of his body. The kiss he placed on her mouth was insistent this time, gently demanding in the pressure it applied. Her lips remained closed to him and Brandon switched tactics, brushing his mouth across her cheek, her chin, against her closed eyes. Her lashes fluttered, tickling his lower lip. The sensation was exquisite.
Brandon traced the long, slender cord in Shannon’s neck. Her throat arched and he placed his mouth against the pulse at the base. One of his hands slipped to her waist while the other continued to cradle her head. Slowly he eased her down on the blanket and lay beside her, careful not to touch her with more than his hands or his mouth. If she felt his arousal, it was a certainty that she would run from him.
“You have beautiful hair,” he said, fanning it across the blanket. “As soft and dark as midnight.”
Shannon could not reply. She could not recall ever being complimented before. She simply stared mutely at the taut planes of Brandon’s face. Sensation, as pleasant as it was alien, shivered down her spine as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck.
“Open your mouth.”
The huskiness of his command caught Shannon off guard and she complied without thinking. Her lips parted on a little gasp as Brandon lowered his head once again. His tongue flicked over the line of her upper lip, teased the corner of her mouth, and traced the full curve of her bottom lip. Her teeth came together, presenting Brandon with a temporary barrier to the sweetness of her mouth. He ran his tongue along their edge until she parted them of her own accord. He tasted her mouth, the full, heady softness of her, and engaged her tongue in a gentle battle, playful and teasing.
Brandon groaned softly as Shannon’s hands slid up his arms and came to rest on his shoulders. He deepened the kiss until it became a thing of hunger and wanting that shook him, then her, leaving them both breathless.
He drew back, searching her face for some sign of repugnance or fear. What he saw were wide violet eyes, faintly dazed but trusting. Twin coins of color stood out in her cheeks, but she did not turn away from his gaze. Her mouth was moist from his kiss, yet it appealed for more. Brandon was not proof against these things. He felt desire flare through him. He whispered her name and then placed his mouth against the curve of her neck and shoulder.
Shannon’s fingers crept into Brandon’s hair, tentative in their touch. Afraid to hold too tightly. Afraid to let go. His mouth on her skin evoked a tingling that rippled through her, swelling her breasts and causing an unfamiliar ache between her thighs. She stirred restlessly in his loose grasp, feeling a certain longing that stretched wide and deep within her.
Shannon’s movement brought her breasts in contact with Brandon’s chest. He eased his weight down upon her while one hand left her waist to cup the underside of her breast. Shannon sucked in her breath and Brandon’s hand stilled.
“Shannon?” His mouth hovered above hers.
“It’s all right. I—” She could not make the words come. Instead she slid one of her hands from Brandon’s hair and placed it over his, then drew his palm over her breast. Her eyes pleaded for some elusive, nameless thing she could not voice.
Brandon relented, kneading her breast with his palm, feeling the tip of her nipple harden and blossom beneath his touch. His fingers manipulated the laced bodice of her gown before he released her breast to the hot suck of his mouth.
Pleasure spiraled through Shannon like a pinwheel of fire. The intimacy of Brandon’s touch held a certain awful fascination, appalling as it was appealing. She bit her lip, holding back the gasp that wanted expression, embarrassed by the desire that held her captive in Brandon’s embrace.
Brandon’s tongue stroked the creamy swelling of Shannon’s breast, dipped into the valley of her flesh.
Her heart thudded against his mouth. His lips traced a lazy circle about her other breast, teasing, taunting, and finally tugging at the rose peak. She arched against him, seeking, but not knowing what she sought. He felt her shock as a tangible thing when her thigh came in contact with his hard arousal.
Brandon pulled back abruptly, sitting up on the blanket with his back to her and his knees folded against his chest. His breathing was harsh and he laid his forehead across his arm, struggling for control. Behind him he could hear Shannon righting her bodice and modestly covering her bare legs with the folds of her skirt.
Shannon’s hands were trembling as she fumbled with her bodice laces. She was wicked and deeply ashamed because for once she did not despise the wickedness in her. She was everything her stepfather had named her: witch, temptress, the devil’s handmaiden. She was the cause of Brandon’s distress, and that knowledge brought an ineffable sadness to her heart.
Even knowing who she was, all that she had done, Brandon had allowed her to remain in his home. More than that, he had entrusted her with the care of the person he loved best in all the world, his daughter. Shannon did not regard that trust lightly, and now she felt as if she had betrayed it, proving to him that she was no better than she ought to be, certainly all the things Thomas Stewart had called her.
“Shall you punish me now?” she asked quietly, a tremor in her voice.
Brandon’s head shot up and he turned on her, horror clear in his eyes. “No!” Then more softly, “Is that what Stewart did to you, Shannon?”
She plucked at one corner of the blanket. “Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because I was wicked, as I’ve been now. You’ve seen it for yourself.”
Brandon’s brow drew together. “You allowed your stepfather to touch you?”
