Rhys’s face was indeed very near hers. His eyes were dark with desire, only a sliver of silver ringed the black centers. He was searching her face as if making a memory. The tenderness, the heat, of his gaze as it slipped over her brows, her cheeks, and settled on her mouth, touched Kenna’s soul. This beautiful man wanted her. And she wanted him no less.
“Rinse.”
Kenna blinked at the command, terse yet huskily given. She hesitated a second too long as she realized his order was all in aid of teasing her.
“If you don’t rinse I’m coming in after you.”
Kenna slid lower in the tub and calmly brushed away the remains of soap on her shoulders. She had no idea that the smile that crossed her face beckoned him to join her anyway. Nor had she any conception of the willpower it required on his part to ignore her invitation. Her eyes followed his movements as he stood and skirted the tub to get the bucket of fresh water warming on the stove. Kenna stood, not only comfortable with her nakedness, but proud of it also. Some imp made her ask, “Do you remember the first time you saw me in a tub?”
Rhys began pouring the fresh water over her shoulders to wash away the last of the soap. Kenna tipped back her head, arching her neck and breasts to feel the water cascade over her tingling flesh. Rhys felt a hard knot of desire form in his loins and had difficulty understanding her question, let alone answering it. It was not until Kenna had casually relieved him of the wooden pail that he realized where it would have lead. He backed away from the tub but not quickly enough to get out of the line of fire.
“You practically drowned me on that occasion!” she announced, heaving the contents of the bucket in his direction.
Rhys sputtered and coughed and wondered why he had bothered lifting his hands to protect himself. That had certainly been a useless gesture, unless, of course, she had followed through by pitching the bucket. He came out from behind his dripping hands and grinned wickedly. “If you thought to cool my ardor, madam, your plan has failed.”
Kenna’s eyes dropped to the bulge wetly outlined in his trousers. “Oh, my!” She quickly jumped out of the tub and grabbed the towel that hung over the back of a chair, holding it up in front of her like a shield. She backed away from Rhys’s slow advance around the tub and bumped into the table. The candles swayed alarmingly, their yellow light flickering wildly. She would have liked to rub her bruised hip but it was clear Rhys was giving no quarter. Hastily she moved away from the table and looked for something to put between them.
Rhys laughed as he saw Kenna’s eyes dart about the cabin. “I suggest you see to your comfort, Mrs. Canning, for I swear I’ll take you anywhere I find you.” He pointed to the massive desk that Kenna was nearing. “Anywhere.”
Kenna’s cheeks pinkened at his announcement, knowing he meant every word. One afternoon he had surprised her while she was reading at the window seat, blithely unaware of the seductive picture she made curled in the corner, head tipped to one side as she studied a dusty old manual. On that occasion they never made it as far as the bed.
Kenna remembered the floor hadn’t become uncomfortable until after they finished making love, but then, it was horribly unyielding. The bed offered the most sensible alternative and Kenna nearly leaped for it as Rhys made a grab for her. Her towel tangled in her legs, offering no protection whatsoever. Kenna reached for the pillow and flung it at him as he approached the bed. Rhys brushed it aside with his arm, letting it fall to the floor, and began stripping off his wet clothes. Kenna observed him unabashedly, her attention riveted to the play of his muscles, the tautness of his belly, and the undeniable evidence of his need. Rhys watched her watching him and was caught unaware by the pleasure her desire gave him.
“The bed was a wise choice, Kenna. We can save the desk for another time.”
She took the towel by its opposite ends, spun it so it wrapped along its length, and snapped him on the thigh with it.
Rhys was too quick for her and before she could haul it in he grabbed it. “That was too close,” he said pulling it out of her hands and tossing it beside the pillow. He knelt on the bed and took her by the shoulders. “If you have such strong objections to the desk, I wish you would voice them rather than attempt to do me grievous injury.”
Kenna’s hands slid along his waist then over his hips. “You appear none the worse for it.” Then she began to fondle him, smiling shyly up into his eyes.
Rhys growled deep in his throat as his mouth came down on Kenna’s. She savored the urgency of his kiss, the flavor of this special communion. She knew that she loved him and wished for the confidence to say the words. In the end she said it with her body, with the mounting tension in her flesh, hoping he would understand that her giving was the expression of all that she felt.
She caressed him with her hands and mouth, whispering words that she never could have uttered in any other circumstance. She grew brave, taking the initiative and becoming the aggressor, stunning Rhys with the force of her passion. He let her explore his body until she knew the sensitivity of his flesh, knew precisely where to touch him to trip his heartbeat or cause his breath to catch. In turn she surrendered her body to the same exploration and offered herself up to the skillful hands of her lover. Nothing he did to her was shameful or ugly. Kenna could find only beauty and pleasure in the touch of his mouth on her breasts, at her hip, and between her thighs.
Rhys gently urged Kenna to lie on her stomach then knelt behind her and raised her hips. His palms stroked her back, came under her to caress her breasts, and then he thrust deeply into her. The unfamiliarity of her position gave Kenna a moment of alarm, then her senses took over and she welcomed the sensations that flooded her.
Her fingers dug into the feather tick as Rhys carried her with him on a sharp crest of pleasure. For long minutes after he had given her his seed her flesh still tingled.
Rhys waited for his own breathing to still before he slipped out of bed, giving Kenna a kiss on her mouth as he did so. Eyes closed, Kenna heard Rhys washing at the commode then rummaging through the wardrobe. Curious, she opened her eyes and saw him pull out his dressing gown. But instead of putting it on he carried it over to the bed, searching its pockets all the while.
She lifted the covers as he slipped back into bed and turned on her side. “What are you looking for?” Rhys palmed something, then threw his robe on a chair. “I amend my question. What do you have in your hand?”
Rhys did not answer her right away. He made a fist around the gold band in his palm. “I don’t know if this is the proper time. Hell, I don’t even know if there is a proper time. I thought I would wait until we were in Boston and I could have it fitted, but I realize I want you to have this now. I’ll understand if you don’t want it; it was rather forced on you the first time, though if you recall, you did agree to the ceremony.”
“Rhys, whatareyou talking about?”
“This.” He held up her wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger and waited for Kenna’s reaction.
She stared at the ring in mute astonishment.
It was not quite the reaction Rhys was hoping for. He could read neither pleasure or dismay in her expression. “Translation, please. I haven’t any idea what you’re thinking.”
“You dear, dear man,” she said as tears glistened in her eyes. She cupped his face and covered it with kisses and tears.
Rhys was overwhelmed. He knew what the ring meant to him. Dare he hope it meant the same to her? He took her trembling hand and slid the band on her finger, then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Kenna very nearly hugged the breath out of him, admiring the ring from over his shoulder.
“You always meant for it to be a real marriage, didn’t you?” she asked wonderingly.
