“You sent me away,” she said after all, in a small voice, surprising herself.
“A mistake,” he said huskily, and began to bring his head toward hers.
“But—” She was so confused! “Do you tell me—is this why you brought me back here? To begin anew?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, dearling.”
He breathed the declaration against her mouth, and then he kissed her. He had never been so completely attuned to a woman before, nor experienced such relief when she yielded. The moment he felt her relax against him, he began his assault in earnest. But he did not forget her inexperience, knowing he must go slowly.
Leonie was kissed a dozen different ways in the long minutes that followed, from soft nibbles to deep probing that played havoc with her insides, spinning her up and down. In a second she would be giddy, then there was only sweet lassitude, and then she was soaring dizzily again.
She did not know when her robe melted away, but she was acutely aware of the first touch of Rolfe’s hand on her bared breasts. It seemed right for his hand to be there, resting on her with only the slightest pressure. When his hand began to move softly over her, the hand seemed to grow hotter. Her nipples hardened against gentle kneading.
She turned, one hand slipping behind Rolfe’s back, the other stroking his shoulder. Her fingers splayed out, wanting to touch, thrilling to the play of muscle beneath skin, the hardness of him. She returned his kisses, exerting her own pressure now, daring him.
Gently he laid her on the bed beside him, and before her head even touched the pillow, his mouth had fastened on one rosy-peaked breast, his tongue doing what his fingers had done before.
He began a thorough exploration of the soft planes of her belly and thighs, coming closer and closer to the core of her womanhood until such a terrible yearning was built in her that she arched upward to meethis exploring hand. When he slipped his long fingers into her warmth, she moaned, her head thrust back. Her fingers closed in his hair, pressing him closer to her.
Few men had ever treated a woman with such reverence. The hands that touched her were worshipful, soothing, and exciting all at once.
Rolfe’s tongue slid down the valley of her breasts and over her belly to mount her pubic mound and pay it equal homage. His hands gently nudged her legs apart and then his arms slipped beneath her lower back to pull her up.
Her head fell farther back and a gasp caught in her throat as his lips pressed deeply into her belly. Then he rested his cheek on her thighs for several wrenching moments. She was nearly mindless, ready to beg him to take her.
Rolfe, fully aware of her peaking desire, began a slow ascent, his body gliding over hers, the hair on his chest playing erotically over her sensitive breasts, making her tremble. His tongue slipped again into her mouth and at the same moment, with nerve-shattering slowness, his velvety hardness slid into her warmth, all the way, until he was completely sheathed.
For an eternity, only his mouth moved, tasting deeply of her sweetness. But nothing could distract her from that other warmth filling her, and when it began to slip out of her, she could not help the whimper that escaped her. But that changed to a gasp of pleasure as the warmth returned. That was his gift to her, making each deliberate stroke so exquisitely prolonged.
After her ecstasy had mounted feverishly, Rolfe withdrew until she held only the throbbing tip of him in her. She cried out, suspended on a precipice, and then he plunged deep within her a final time and sheexploded with trembling ecstasy that pulsed through her, each shock more extraordinary than the last, until she fainted. She barely felt the last gentle kiss placed on her lips.
Chapter 15
“MY lady?”
Leonie opened her eyes to find herself lying on her belly, clutching her pillow, an unusual position, as she never slept like that. Then she remembered last night and warmth rushed through her.
“My lady?”
Wilda was standing at the side of the bed, holding out her bedrobe. Leonie sighed. She would rather have lain there and savored her memories, or found her husband there instead of Wilda. But a quick glance around told her that he was gone.
“Have I overslept?” Leonie asked.
“No. Now thatheis below, I thought it safe to come and wake you for mass,” she said sharply.
Leonie grinned. She knew why Wilda was angry. “If I share the room, I must share his habits.” She changed the subject. “Did you sleep well?”
“I fear I did not. The fleas!” Wilda’s voice rose. “I was nearly eaten alive!”
Leonie sympathized, for she had a few bites herself. “This place is—” She recalled the shock she had felt yesterday when she’d had her first good look at the hall.
“Dreadful,” Wilda finished for her. “The kitchens and servants’ quarters are even worse than the hall,and I fear to go near the garderobe. Only this room is fairly clean.”
Leonie frowned as Wilda began combing her hair. “Why, do you suppose? True, Crewel has not had a lady to supervise since Alain’s mother died, but there was the Montigny steward in charge. And Lady Amelia is here now.” She shuddered recalling the vermin she had seen in the rushes in the hall, vermin mixed with bones, rotten food, even dog excrement!
“That one obviously does not bother herself,” Wilda said. “And the servants, from what I have already seen, do nothing they are not told to do. They have no will even to improve their own quarters.”
“How can my husband…I would not have thought him a man to live this way.”
