She wanted to touch him. When she reached down and ran her finger along the length of his shaft, he drew in a sharp breath.
“Could you?” he asked in a tight voice. He wrapped her hand around it and moved their hands together to show her what he wanted.
Even she realized where this was going. She stopped her hand. “You said you wanted to be inside me.”
He drew back to peer into her face. “You have given yourself to no man but your husband.” He paused, then asked, “Why choose me, Isobel? Why me?”
Why did the reason matter to him?
“I’ve come this far in my sin. I want to know all of it,” she said. That was part of it, but far from all.
Was that disappointment in his eyes? Hurt? What did he want her to say? That she knew no other man could make her feel this way?
“You are the only one I would have.” Her pride would let her confess only this much. “The only one I want.”
Feeling uncertain, she kissed his cheek and guided his hand to where he had touched her before. She wondered uneasily if he would jerk his hand away when he felt how wet she was. Instead, he groaned with what sounded like almost painful pleasure.
Soon she was lost in his kisses, his touches, the burning heat between them. She hardly noticed when he rolled her onto her back. When she felt the tip of his shaft against her opening, all she could think wasat last, at last, at last.She may have whimpered the words aloud.
They both gasped when he pushed into her. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around him. She clung to him as he moved against her, slowly at first and then faster.
“Sorry. I cannot… last too long… this time,” he gasped, “I… can… not.”
He was ramming into her, harder and faster with each thrust.Harder, harder, harder,she egged him on. A burst of pleasure hit her, even stronger than the one before, and she cried out.
He was trying to pull away from her, but she held on to him with all her strength, refusing to let him go. And then he was moving inside her again and she was weeping and calling his name, over and over. He cried out with her, and she felt his seed empty inside her.
When he finally lay still in her arms, she held him to her, saying his name again and again and kissing his face and hair.
“Jesus,” he said without lifting his head. He rolled to the side, pulling her with him, and tucked her head under his chin. In a fading voice, he said, “Isobel, my love, my…”
She heard his breathing grow steady. Could he possibly have fallen asleep? Nothing short of a wild boar could have gotten her to move, but she was too awash in emotions to sleep. A hundred questions spun through her head as she tried to fathom what had happened between them, and to her.
She leaned back, taking advantage of his dozing to study him in repose. In the shaft of sunlight that fell upon his hair, she saw that what looked auburn from afar was in fact a hundred shades of red and gold.
His face was near perfect, to her mind. She liked his straight dark brows, his strong jaw and cheekbones, the blade nose, the glint of bristles from a day’s growth of beard. His generous mouth. Even at rest, the corners seemed to tip up.
She felt an overwhelming tenderness toward him. Was it merely gratitude for the unexpected pleasures he gave her? Was it something else? Something more?
She brushed a lock of hair away from his face and sighed. What did it matter? She recalled her mother’s last words to her:We women are born to suffer.
Aye, she would suffer for this.
But she would not regret it.
Stephen kept his eyes closed, not wanting to waken and find it was all a dream. A smile spread across his face. Nay, that could not have been a dream. He’d always known Isobel had a passionate nature beneath that sober exterior, but God in heaven, he was a lucky man.
Aye, he must admit to one disappointment. He was not so foolish as to expect her to profess abounding love. But she did not even admit to a particular fondness for him. Did she simply desire him? Surely that alone would not be enough for a woman like Isobel to cross the line and commit herself.
Even at the end, he tried to pull out to preserve at least some possibility she could change her mind and avoid the marriage. God knew how hard that was! Surely she understood why he did it. Her answer was unmistakable: she wrapped her legs around him like a vise.
It had been heaven.
Other men could give her pleasure, so that could not be the only reason she chose him. Since the only other man she’d been with was that ancient husband of hers, it was possible she did not know that. Well, she would never know it now. No man but he would touch her again. He’d cut de Roche’s hands off if he tried.
Strong mutual desire was not a bad start to marriage; it was more than many had. She enjoyed his company. Still, he hoped she saw more in him than a charming jester who could please her in bed. He wanted her to think better of him than that. Nay, he wanted tobea better man than that for her.
He opened his eyes. The sight of her was like a sharp stab to his heart. She looked unspeakably lovely, with her tousled dark hair, smooth pale skin, and serious green eyes.
