The hopeful note in her voice touched his heart-strings. But he held firm. “I’m not known to waste money, and it would be purely a waste to buy a buggy when I’ve got half a dozen mares all gentle enough for you to ride.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She turned stiffly and flounced off into her bedroom with the kettle of water. Lucas was waiting at the stove when she returned with the kettle.
“Good night, Lucas.”
“Just good night?” He quirked a brow. “Surely a good-night kiss is in order?” He added with a grin, “You might as well get used to it. I like kissing.”
“So I gather,” she replied dryly. Resigned, she sighed, “Oh, very well.”
She leaned forward, intending to bestow on him the kind of kiss she would give her father. But the moment her lips touched his, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her from pulling away.
He kissed her with incredible tenderness, his lips moving softly over hers, bringing a delicious languor to her limbs. She felt ridiculously weak. Strangest of all, she didn’t want to pull away. She was enjoying the sweet exploration of his lips. Even the tangy taste of whiskey on his breath was enticing.
His hands began to move along her back, sending tingles down her spine. Then he was suddenly caressing her neck. The hand moving slowly downward. Her heart began to hammer. She knew what he intended, but she couldn’t find the will to stop him. When his hand finally pressed boldly against her breast, she thought she would faint from the sheer wickedness of it.
It was madness. She knew she couldn’t let him continue, but the sweet sensations he was stirring overtook her completely. When his lips moved along her cheek to her neck, she was finally able to find her voice.
“Lucas.”
It sounded like an endearment, but she meant to admonish him. Her hands had no strength to push him away. His lips were at her ear, and excitement intensified until she could hardly bear it.
His tongue slipped inside her ear, and she thought she would faint.
“I want you, Shari. You know that, don’t you? Let me make love to you.” His voice became even huskier. “If we were married now, it’s what we would be doing for the rest of the evening. It will take hours to love you properly, and I intend to love you properly, Shari.”
His words were intoxicating. She had to fight him. Even the way he whispered her name made her tingle, pronouncing it as the Frenchchéri.
“You can’t…we aren’t…Lucas! Please!” She was pleading for his help because she had lost the strength to resist.
He leaned back so he could gaze into her eyes, but his arms still pressed her close. There was a smoldering heat in his eyes that pierced right to her soul.
“You’re not an innocent anymore. Why do you resist? You know it will be good. Now or later, it doesn’t matter. And even if we don’t marry, it makes no difference. Don’t fight it, Shari.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it instantly, seeing in her amethyst eyes the sparks that turned them a deep, dark violet.
“Only a man would say it makes no difference. It obviously means nothing more to you than a moment’s gratification. But for a woman there has to be more.”
“You talk like a virgin,” he said accusingly. “Who does it hurt if you and I make love?”
Sharisse stopped breathing. How could she answer when all she had were a virgin’s answers? Was it permissible for a widow to be promiscuous? How could she know?
“I don’t know why I’m even discussing this with you,” she said defensively. “There will be no marriage rights before the marriage.”
“Will you force me to fetch the preacher then just to ease my pain?”
Her belly tightened. “What pain?”
He frowned. “Don’t play with me, Sharisse. You can’t have been married and not know any more about men than that. You feel this.” He pressed her hips firmly to his, and she gasped. “You think that doesn’t hurt if I can’t do anything about it?”
“I…I…” Her face flamed red, and she tried with all her might to push away from him. “I’m sorry, I—”
“All right.” He cut her off sharply and let her go. Then he cursed himself, seeing the fear in her eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Sharisse. I know I’m rushing you, and I apologize. But you’re so damn desirable.”
“You…you’re not going for the preacher, are you?” she asked hesitantly.
Is that what had frightened her? “How the hell should I know?” His voice rose again. “Damn, you frustrate me, woman!”
