Love.She’d said it. She lovedhim.And he should be dancing for joy except, in this moment, he thought of her, of what could happen. “Elise—”
She placed her fingers on his lips. “Don’t argue, Kit. Don’t tell me I’m wrong or that we shouldn’t or any of the ‘or’s’ you have in mind. Here is what I know to be true—if I don’t have all of you, I will die from the loss—”
“Elise—” She wouldn’t die. He might, but she wouldn’t, because—
“Kit, I can feel your brain coming up with so much common sense, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this night. We are here together. You care for me as much as I care for you. I know that is true.”
More, he wanted to say. He cared for her more than she could ever feel for him. His world now revolved around her. But when he started to speak, she cut him off, kissing him hard and in a way that made all of his good sense vanish.
Her lips traveled to his ear. “We shall work it out on the morrow. But for tonight, let us be completely true to ourselves.”
His response was to shrug off his jacket. He tugged at the shirt she had loosened from his breeches. Almost joyfully, Elise stood. She let her dress fall to her feet. She was naked in the evening air with only her stockings and sensible walking shoes.
She looked down at herself and started to laugh.
“I see nothing amusing,” he assured her, reaching to help her remove shoes and stockings. I only see your beauty. And your boldness. I admire bold woman.”
“Even opinionated ones?” she asked, ending on a small gasp as he slid the last stocking off and his fingers brushed her skin.
“Especially those,” he assured her.
And then, at last, they were naked—then, in the open air. Elise held out her arms.She loved him.
Could any man be more fortunate?
The grass beneath them was lusher, softer, and finer than any bed. He rose up over her. He never wanted to forget how beautiful she looked with her golden hair loose and spread around her.
Kit bent to kiss her temple, her ear, her shoulder. Her hands caressed his ribs and smoothed over his buttocks. He liked the way she touched him. She wasn’t afraid of passion.
She wasn’t afraid of life.
In fact, in the short time they’d been together, she had taught him about courage, about honesty, about openness. About being vulnerable.
He held her in his arms as he settled between her legs. He kissed her, deeply, the way they both liked. The tip of his head pressed against her sweetest spot. She gasped and, being Elise, she laughed softly as if in joy.
Kit moved the tip lower, steadying himself and then slowly entering her. She was tight and it took all his willpower to not push forward. To give her time.
Her muscles loosened as she became accustomed to him. He had reached that fragile barrier that marked her virginity.
“Ah, Elise, I’m sorry.” He drove himself into her.
He felt the tear. She gave a start, a cry. He went still, held himself.
And then her lips curved into a smile, part relief and part bravery. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“No?”
“I was prepared for far worse.”
“And how did you know?”
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Maids talk.”
The response made him laugh. Her browlifted. “I felt your laughter. There, deep inside me. Oh, Kit, there is more, isn’t there?”
Indeed, there was. He began moving slowly, his gaze meeting hers, his concentration on pleasing her.
The heat between them built. Her hips began to meet his thrusts. Her eyes darkened. She lifted herself against him.
