By Love Unveiled (24 page)

His lips invaded; hers welcomed the conquering foe. His body clamored at the gates; hers gave up the keys to the city.

Need swamped her. It was as if every part of her body demanded she acknowledge how intensely he made her feel. The scrape of his whiskered face against her cheek started one rush of sensation. Then came the tantalizing
dance of his tongue inside her mouth, teasing her into responding, into pressing her breasts against the rigid wall of his chest.

He pulled away only enough to lift her in his arms. “Tonight, sweetling, you’ll give me at least one of your secrets.”

Would she? She began to fear that she would.

After he set her down beside the bed and stood there unashamedly shedding his doublet and waistcoat, she opened her mouth to protest, but her words died in her throat as he pulled his shirt over his head, baring his upper torso.

Oh, good Lord. She’d seen men’s bared chests before, those of Father’s patients. But none like this.

Broad shoulders gave way to a well-knit, muscled chest sprinkled liberally with dark brown hair. That hair led her eyes downward, following the rough-edged line it made down his belly, then lower to where a bulge showed in his breeches.

She sucked her breath in sharply and jerked her gaze away. What was she thinking, to be gawking at him? She ought to be—

“Oh no, sweetling,” he murmured as he caught her to him. “No regrets. This moment became inevitable the night I first felt your gentle touch as you bound my wounds.”

She tried to deny the thrill racing through her at his words, but when he plundered her mouth in another of his long, dizzying kisses that stole her breath, she could no longer.

One part of her felt him slide her bodice past her shoulders. Another heard him curse as he fumbled with the ties of her skirt. Yet another saw the two pieces of her gown swish down to cover her feet like doves coming to roost.

But her heart only heard, felt, and saw the driving passion that rode him as his hands skimmed down her ribs to rest on her hips. Perhaps he really did care. He
had
come for her, had risked his life for her.

And she wanted him. That much she had to admit.

Especially when his gaze trailed down to rest on the full swells nearly completely revealed above the neckline of her chemise, and then darkened hungrily. Every feminine instinct within her preened to have him admire her body so.

As he drew the loose neckline down and began to rub his palm in ever-widening circles over one breast, a shuddering sigh escaped her. It felt so good, so very delicious. Where was the shame she ought to feel? Why was she consumed instead by this rapidly rising pleasure, this sensual longing that danced just ahead of her like the Pied Piper charming the children into danger?

She averted her eyes from his devouring gaze, then gasped as he dropped to one knee so his mouth could caress her breast. Oh, heavens. It was even better than last time, now that she’d witnessed herself the difference between tender caresses and cruel abuse.

This, she reveled in. Her head fell back at the sheer wanton warmth, and she buried her hands in his dark
mane, clasping him tighter to her. That provoked him into greater eagerness until he was pleasuring each of her breasts with teeth and tongue and lips so deliciously that her knees wobbled. But he held her in place, his arms wrapped about her waist.

Had she lost all semblance of sanity to give her body up so easily to his?

Yes. But it was a sweet insanity. His hands and mouth seemed to know no boundaries. They teased, caressed, and provoked her until she swayed against him, wanting more, needing everything he might offer.

Only then did he rise to peel her chemise from her, leaving her naked before him. Stark desire illuminated his face, and she gloried in the awe in his face as he raked her bare body hungrily.

It wasn’t right for him to see her thus. Only her husband should be allowed to gaze upon her without her clothes. Yet she wanted no other man to see her thus. None but Garett.

“Your body is a holy place, a cathedral,” he whispered as his eyes swept back to meet hers.

“Is it?” Her voice caught. She had to break the spell he cast on her. She had to! “Then why do you wish to profane it?”

A wicked half smile played over his face. “Not profane. Worship. Let me worship at the altar, sweetling, lest I be banished to hell.”

“I can’t save you from damnation.” Desperate now to resist her own desires, she wielded the one weapon that might stop him from seducing her. “If you take me
now, you may forget the past for a time, but at the slightest mention of your uncle, you’ll turn against me.”

The muscles of his jaw tensed, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he jerked her against him so she could feel the bulge in his breeches. “Nay, I can’t, even if you prove as treacherous as he.”

His mouth caught hers again, ravaging with a wanton abandon that drove her need even more into the open. She fought the urge to lose control, fought it and lost. Hardly aware of what she did, she clutched him to her, her hands roaming down to cup his trim, hard buttocks through his breeches. With what was half-moan, half-growl, he pressed her backward until she fell across the bed. In a trice, he’d stripped off his breeches and fallen atop her, his body trapping hers beneath his. His knee parted her legs, and she tensed as she realized the moment was near.

She felt a tear escape, more out of anger with herself for her inability to resist him than out of any pain.

Garett’s face darkened at the sight. He caressed her cheek, rubbing away the wet spot as he stared into her face. “For once, don’t lie to me, Mina. Tell me I haven’t mistaken you. Tell me you desire me as I do you.”

How she wished she could proclaim him wrong. If she did, she knew he’d leave her and not touch her again. But she couldn’t bear having him think she regarded his attentions as she did those of the soldiers. Every part of her rebelled against lying about how he made her feel.

Still, to admit the shameful truth, that her body
warmed and tingled wherever his skin met hers, was hard. She dropped her gaze. “I don’t know what I want.”

His soft chuckle held a hint of relief. “Yes, you do. You’re merely too proud and stubborn to admit it.”

That brought out the rebellious streak in her. “Fine. Then I
don’t
want—” she began, but he muffled her answer with his lips.

He explored her mouth with a leisurely thoroughness that had her blushing even while she wanted more. But though his lips merely enticed, his hands enflamed, moving over her naked form like those of a sculptor memorizing every curve and dip and line.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, shifting so he lay propped on one elbow beside her, she stared at him in confusion, incapable of speech. All she knew was she wanted to taste his lips again. With a boldness that came from who knew where, she drew his head down to her, but he resisted.

“There’s more of you I would taste.” He kissed her hair, her brow, her cheeks. When his tongue darted into her ear with startling intimacy, she moaned.

Then his hand inched down her belly to rest on the soft curls hiding her most private place. She stiffened.

He halted his hand. “You act like a complete innocent.”

“That’s because I
am
a complete innocent,” she admitted, her gaze locking with his.

For some moments he searched her face. Then a smile tipped up his mouth. “I should have known you
were by the way Tamara protected you. Fool that I was, I thought she only disapproved of me. But any man would have raised her defenses, wouldn’t he have?”

Marianne nodded. Would he release her now that he realized she was a virgin?

“Then I’m to be your first.” His eyes gleamed with some dark pleasure that sent a delicious shiver coursing through her.

“Yes. Unless you—”

He took her lips again, but she scarcely responded, because all her senses were taken up by the realization that his fingers were parting her womanly folds.

“Oh, God, sweetling,” he whispered, “you’re warm, so very warm . . .”

Before she knew it, his fingers were working an incredible magic within her. She tried to ignore the pleasure that stole through the portals of her body, but how could she? The desire he brought to life within her was as deep as the sea and just as timeless. Only moments passed before she found herself arching up against his hand, searching for some elusive feeling that seemed to hover just beyond her reach.

“Garett . . . oh please . . . oh, Garett . . .”

With a dark smile, he increased the tempo of his motions until she was moaning and writhing beneath his hand, seeking the satisfaction that eluded her.

Then he settled himself between her legs and something else replaced his fingers within her. He sheathed himself so quickly in her that the sudden fullness startled her. Yet he paused at the barrier marking her innocence.

“Hold on, dear heart.” With his eyes gleaming down at her, he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders. “Hold on to me, for I shan’t ever let you go now. After tonight, there will be no secrets between us.”

She wished she could believe him. No secrets. How wonderful it would be to cast aside her uncomfortable role, to bare her soul to Garett as he’d bared her body. But in her heart, she feared it could not be.

Well, if she couldn’t tell him everything, at least she could give him this. So she blotted all secrets from her mind, all save the secret of his wonderful body melded to hers.

The initial pain, which she’d known to expect, still took her aback. But after he paused a moment so she could adjust, he fell into a slow and steady rhythm that had her gasping and shimmying beneath him.

His body danced with hers until she and he were one glorious blur of sensation. She clutched him closely as she met him thrust for thrust, savoring the feel of him within her.

He brought her sensual gifts she’d never dreamed existed. All was whispers and thunder together, passion and strength and sweet excess. Her head fell back as her body was rocked by tremors, then jolts, then quakes of pleasure.

Suddenly he strained with a burst of strength against her, and she felt his warmth flow into her. Then the tension left his body, and he fell atop her.

Spent and satiated, she curved her body around his, loath to let him go. After a few moments, he shifted to
her side, but he kept one leg and arm thrown familiarly over her body. Propping himself up on one hand, he let the other trail down the contours of her belly.

A sudden shyness assailed her, and she ducked her head against his shoulder.

“Come now, my gypsy princess, don’t hide that pretty face of yours. You might lie to me at times, but I can always trust your eyes to reveal what you’re really thinking. Let me see your eyes.”

He tipped her face up to his. She couldn’t help but meet his gaze, for she, too, hoped for some sign that their joining had meant more to him than just a moment’s enjoyment.

What she saw was a raw desire so fierce it masked any other emotion. A sultry heat spread over her body again at the blatant invitation his eyes offered.

His lips curved in a soft smile. “Say it, sweetling. Tell me you found as much pleasure in our coupling as I. Tell me you wanted me. You might as well admit it, for I shan’t let you have a moment’s rest until you do.”

The sensual things he was already doing again to her body with his hand made it difficult to think, much less answer him with any modicum of dignity. “It was . . . interesting,” she murmured, unwilling to feed his arrogance more than that. Then she gasped when his hand darted between her legs.

“And?”

“And . . . and pleasant,” she admitted breathlessly as he played on her as expertly as a musician played a flute.

“And?”

Her head fell back and her eyelids sank shut. He was making it difficult for her to think. “Please, Garett . . .”

He chuckled softly. “Say it, sweetling.”

At that moment she would have said anything he wanted. “I want you,” she whispered. “I want you . . . I want you . . .”

With a low growl he slid over to cover her body with his once more. “Then you shall have me,” he murmured before showing her yet again what having was all about.

Truth is child of Time.

—John Ford,
The Broken Heart

T
he day was half gone when Garett awoke to find himself buried by a tangle of shapely limbs and worn bed coverings. Thick locks of honeyed hair tickled his bare chest and covered the face of the one whose body pressed against his.

Mina. After weeks of unquenchable desire for her, he finally had her in his arms and in his bed. And to his surprise, he found her aunt had been right. One taste of her had merely whetted his appetite.

Lightly he stroked her hair from her face, marveling at its silky texture. How she could sleep with her body draped over his was beyond him. Yet he’d managed to sleep as well. Even in her sleep she entranced him.

Unconscious of the influence her bare form already exerted on his body, she lay with a sweet artlessness in her expression that touched some tender part within him, a part he’d thought long ago dead.

His gaze trailed down to the bloodstained linen
tumbled about her legs. Then he shut out the sight, letting his head fall limply back against the pillow. She’d been such an innocent. He’d never dreamed a woman with a past like hers could come to a man’s bed so unsullied.

If he’d guessed the truth before, would it have made a difference?

He thought not. His hunger for her had been irrational from the beginning. He wouldn’t have been able to wish it away simply by telling himself she was a virgin.

He gazed again at the gentle curves of her face. What he wanted most to do was awaken her with soft kisses, to press her back against the pillows and . . . His loins tightened almost painfully at the thought.

No, he told himself with deep regret. She needed time to rest. He’d shown her little enough mercy the night before. She’d enjoyed it, even if she’d found it difficult to admit it. He’d delighted in arousing her in spite of that, until she couldn’t help but return his desire.