She shook her head, and he spun her around to face him, worry in his eyes.
Placing a hand on his cheek, she reassured him. “I love it.”And I love you.
Oh, dear God. Had she said that aloud? Breath trapped in her lungs, and her head grew fuzzy as she waited for his reaction.
“Good.”
Good?That was all he had to say? No reciprocal declaration? Perhaps she’d been saved from embarrassment.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorite places.”
Relieved she hadn’t made a fool of herself—because really, how could she have fallen in love with him so quickly?—she proceeded as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
But it had. Not usually one to examine her feelings too closely, she found it impossible to ignore the niggling voice that said her declaration, although thankfully unspoken, had been real.
Time slammed to a halt. The realization—momentous. She loved him. Stunned, she remained perfectly still as if the very air, thick with significance, refused to let her move.
“What is it?” He stepped closer. “Are you ill? You’re so pale, you look as if you’re ready to faint.” He took her hand and led her to one of thebenches. “Come, sit.”
Her body dropped onto the hard wrought-iron seat, and he knelt before her. His brows drew down, a crease forming between them and directing her attention to those lovely green eyes. All she could do was stare into them. She wanted to say it. To tell him, but for once in her life the words she said in her head didn’t form on her tongue.
“Perhaps if you lie down.” He rose and strode to a long, enclosed chest on the side of the benches. After pulling out several long cushions, he laid them down on the floor of the folly.
Lifting her hands in his, he kissed them, then helped her from the bench to the cushions.
He towered over her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed around. “If only we had some water.”
Finally regaining her tongue, she said, “We’re surrounded by water. It’s an island.”
Peering down at her, he gave her an indulgent smile. “To drink, Anne. Although you are looking a trifle better.”
She held out her hand. “Join me, and I will recover completely.”
As he crouched down next to her, she scooted over to give him room. Stretched out on their sides, they lay speechless, staring into each other’s eyes while Colin played with a stray lock of her hair.
“Make love to me, Colin.”
Her request surprised him.Not because they were out in the open. The isolation of the folly gave them some privacy. Not because it was the middle of the day. They’d dispelled that silly notion the day they were married. Not even because Anne had been the one to ask, although in his entire previous marriage, Margery had never once initiated their couplings. Anne was nothing like Margery after all.
No, his surprise, even his unease, came from the seriousness in Anne’s eyes and voice. Anne, who was a walking, talking ray of sunshine. Who frolicked and teased and, yes, challenged him,seemed almost vulnerable in her invitation, as if he might refuse her.
Worry webbed through his mind as he wondered what had precipitated such solemnity in his Siren of Seduction. As he stared into her beautiful blue eyes, warmth unfurled in his chest, and he pushed the worry aside. For Anne.
“It would be my pleasure,” he answered and meant every word.
Spurred not only by her request but also by his own burgeoning feelings, when they made love, it was more than passionate—although with Anne how could it be less?
He worshipped her body with his, and she reciprocated eagerly. Tender caresses mixed with more heated and urgent touches. His breath hitched in his throat, and his heart pounded like a caged animal against his ribcage. His head spun from the sweet fragrance of her perfume and the soft curves of her body pressed against his.
She rocked him to his very soul. Electricity crackled and sparked between them. But something tender simmered beneath the surface, and his mind struggled to name it.
Neither of them spoke, the silence broken when a flock of birds took flight. Wings flapped furiously, mimicking the rapid beating of his heart.
Since their first coupling—had it really only been a little over a week since they’d married?—something had changed between them. At first, their union had been merely physical. Anne’s response to him was both unexpected and glorious and only increased his desire for her, which was no small measure to begin with. Seductive voices whispered that his ability to pleasure her sexually meant he wasn’t a failure—at least not in the bedroom—and he took great personal satisfaction each time she climaxed.
But as they explored each other’s bodies, as he learned how she whimpered when he kissed the one particular spot under her ear, how she pulsed around him speeding his climax, or how, in the heat of passion, she enjoyed when he whispered naughty things to her, he found himself more and more under her spell. Pleasing her was no longer a validation of his own worth, but simply because he wishedto pleaseher.
Even outside the bedroom, he found himself eager to see her when he’d finished with work in his study, to listen to her plans to redecorate a few of the rooms, to hear her endless chatter during supper, especially when she’d say things aloud she’d meant to keep silent.
