Never Marry a Cowboy (14 page)

She shook her head. “I haven't done anything in my life but lie around and be ill.”

Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped the flour and soot from her face. “Ashton, I hired servants because we have servants at home. In England, I had a valet, a man who dressed me. He buttoned every button on my shirt and saw to it that I always looked sharp.”

“You don't have a valet now,” she pointed out.

“No.”

“Do you prefer having someone do everything for you?”

This conversation hadn't gone where he'd planned, but somehow he wasn't surprised. Ashton had a way of turning his world around. “I did at the time because I knew no different.”

With his thumb, he scrubbed the soot from her chin. “But you're quite right. I discovered that I preferred to do for myself.”

She smiled. “I suppose I should have started with a smaller task.”

“Well, for what it's worth, I think the crabs will turn out now that they're in the pot.” An odor hit him. “Bloody hell. I think the water's boiled away.”

He grabbed the towel, jumped up, and rushed to the stove. He moved the pot off the fire and carried it to the table.

Ashton stood, frowning. “Are they ruined as well?”

“Only the fellow on the bottom. I think the rest are salvageable.”

Relief washed over her face. “Thank goodness. My dinner isn't a total failure.”

With his handkerchief, he wiped away the soot on her neck. “I'm not sure we want to risk dining in, however. Why don't you grab a quilt, and I'll build us a fire near the shore? We'll watch the last of the sunset and the moon rise.”

 

With a contented sigh, Ashton lay back on her elbows and looked at the grandeur of the sky. The moon was only a smile tonight, but the stars glittered in abundance.

“I've never seen you eat so much,” Kit said as he stretched out beside her on his side. Behind him a driftwood fire burned low.

“Revenge,” she said with satisfaction. “And guilt. I didn't like tossing the crabs into the water alive, but Mrs. Edwards said I had to. I didn't want any of them to have died in vain.”

He laughed loudly, the sound such sweet music to her ears. Reaching out, he trailed his finger along her chin. Her heart pounded.

“Dear God, Ashton, but you are a delight. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

She shifted her gaze to him. “We're leaving tomorrow, aren't we? That's the reason you went away this afternoon. To make the arrangements.”

“I made no arrangements for our departure.”

“But you considered it.”

He held her gaze. “Yes.”

She looked back at the stars and inhaled deeply. “I like the air here. You can almost smell the life in the sea.”

“Why do you not wear undergarments?”

She snapped her gaze to his. “How can you tell?”

“Because I'm not a novice when it comes to women or their clothing.”

She shrugged. “I find them confining, and I think a woman in my position should be allowed certain luxuries.”

“It drives me beyond madness, you know.”

She studied him. “What do you mean?”

He eased closer, cradled her cheek, and pressed his lips against the side of her throat, working his way toward her ear. “I mean,” he whispered hoarsely, “that it makes me want to rip away your dress and luxuriate in the glorious sight of your body.”

Her heart fluttered, and the warmth of his mouth seared her flesh. Her breathing became shallow. “You've seen my body.”

He trailed his mouth across her chin and brought it to rest at the corner of her mouth. “You mean the night you were shivering?”

She mumbled a yes, wondering how he could utter complete sentences when she could barely think.

“I paid no attention then and have regretted it ever since.” He eased his mouth over hers.

She jerked back. “No.”

“Don't deny me a simple kiss, Ashton.”

“But what if my theory is right, and you get sick.”

“It is a risk I am willing to take. What is the point in life if passion is forever held at bay?”

He pressed his mouth to her throat, and she felt his tongue taste her flesh. She wanted to do the same with him. To know passion and the full grandeur of life.

“Why seek to please me with a meal if you don't care for me?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

“I do care for you, but we vowed—”

“Not to consummate the marriage. A kiss is not consummation.”

His mouth came down hard on hers, silencing all protests, relieving her of any rational thoughts, save one: she wanted to spend the remainder of her life within his arms.

His tongue touched hers as he shifted his body, easing his leg between her thighs. Warmth swirled within her, cascaded through her. Instinctively, she raised her hips, pressing against his hardened thigh. If this was passion, she thought she would gladly die of it.

Moaning, she slipped her hands inside his shirt so she could clutch his bare shoulders. He moved his mouth from hers and blazed a path to her ear.

“I'm on fire,” he rasped. “Let's go for a swim.”

Opening her eyes, she gazed past him to the blanket of stars overheard. “Swim? In the ocean?”

He lifted his head, his eyes shadowed by the night, but his smile warm. “Do you know of some water elsewhere?”

“I'll catch my death.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and laughed. “My mother always warned me against going in the water. I don't know how to swim.”

“Then we won't go far,” he said as he freed a button on her bodice, “and I'll hold you all the while.”

He undid another button.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Helping you remove your dress.”

“And your clothes?”

“Shall come off as well.” He pressed a kiss to the shallow valley between her breasts, now exposed courtesy of his deft fingers. “You may remove them if you like.”

He eased off her and drew her into a sitting position on the quilt she'd spread out earlier. She felt the breeze riffling with her loosened bodice as he pulled the pins from her hair.

She swallowed hard. “This seems a bit indecent.”

He chuckled low. “There's no one about to see, and even if there were, you're my wife.”

He tossed the last pin aside and her hair cascaded around her shoulders. Slowly, he eased his hands between the parted material of her bodice, his palms skimming along her flesh as he drew the material over her shoulders. Heat shot through her as the flames from his low fire cast dancing shadows around them.

He worked her arms free of her sleeves until her bodice was pooled around her waist. He trailed his finger along her collarbone. “Incredibly lovely,” he said in a voice so quiet as to be almost wiped out by the roar of the ocean waves.

With trembling hands, she began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. She had expected his hands to be as still as hers had been while he unbuttoned her bodice, but it seemed as though he were unable not to touch her. His hands ran up and down her arms, circled her waist, and traveled along her ribs, halting only when they rested just below her breasts.

Her mouth went dry. “I've finished with your buttons.”

He made a low growl of approval before removing his hands from her and pulling his shirt over his head. She took the opportunity to cross her arms over her chest. “Kit, I don't know if this is such a good idea.”

“My wife is timid,” he said quietly. “Very well, remove the remainder of your clothes and meet me at the water's edge.”

She watched him stand with grace and confidence. He walked beyond the light cast by the fire to the water's edge where he became merely a silhouette. He removed his trousers and cast them aside, but she could see little more than his form.

She undid the buttons on her skirt and wiggled out of it. She studied her husband, waiting patiently for her. She supposed most women came to know their husband's bodies intimately on their wedding night.

What did she fear?

Certainly not him. Perhaps like Eve, she felt she would gain knowledge this night that she was better off not possessing.

With a deep breath, she pushed to her feet and strolled across the sand, feeling remarkably vulnerable and incredibly free.

Kit watched his wife walk hesitantly toward him. What in God's name had possessed him to suggest this swim? He'd blame it on the wine if he'd had any to drink.

But the truth resided somewhere between insanity and obsession. Dear God, but he wanted her truly as his wife and that he could not have—ever. He had considered a dozen times taking her into the realm of pleasure and not traveling there himself.

Would she see his action as betrayal or a gift? He wanted nothing to cause her harm or regret.

He had not felt this possessive stirring for any woman except Clarisse. Yet now when he closed his eyes, he could no longer envision Clarisse's face. He could see only his wife. Too pale, too thin. Although she was eating more. Perhaps it was the salt air. It certainly increased his appetite and not only for food.

He held out his hand toward Ashton. She slipped her trembling hand into his.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No. I just can't see much out here.”

Which he realized was no doubt for the best. “The water's warm,” he assured her as he led her toward it.

“I guess you can swim,” she said, but he heard the doubts laced within her voice.

“You assume correctly.”

The waves swirled around his calves while the sand shifted beneath his feet.

“How far out will we go?” she asked.

“Until you tell me to stop.”

“Do you think crabs are vengeful creatures?”

Laughing, he glanced at her. “Afraid they might come after you for eating their cousins?”

“Just being silly, I guess.” Her hand tightened on his. “I like the way the water feels, and the wet sand. It's different.”

“I want you to enjoy it.”

“Do you ever think of sailing from here and returning to England?”

“Unfortunately, every day.”

She stopped and he turned to face her.

“Do you really?” she asked, amazement in her voice.

“Unlike Harry and Grayson, who now have families, I have nothing to hold me here.” As soon as the words were spoken, he knew she would hold him here. Four months, six months, a year. As long as she breathed, he would remain.

“Then why haven't you gone home?” she asked.

“Because there, I have nothing to call me back.” He tugged on her hand. “Come along, let's go farther out.”

The water lapped at his waist, the waves gentle but persistent. She released a tiny squeal and leapt at him. He grabbed her, holding her against his side, her feet finding purchase on his calf.

“Something touched my leg, something cold and slimy,” she said, breathing heavily.

“No doubt a harmless fish.” He slipped his arms beneath her and raised her well above his hips. “Lift your legs and wrap them around my waist.”

Trembling, she did as he bade, her breasts pressed against his chest.

“We should leave the water now,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, the warmth from her body seeping into his.

She leaned back slightly. “It could be a dangerous creature.”

“It would have attacked by now.” The only dangerous creature in the water was he. Supporting her with one arm beneath her hips, he wrapped his other arm around her back. Swallowing hard, he pressed a kiss just above her breast.

“Kit,” she said on a sigh.

He'd expected her to push him away. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close. He turned his head slightly, took her budding nipple into his mouth, and suckled gently.

She dropped her head back. “Oh, my dear God.”

He ran his tongue in a circle over her distended flesh before kissing her breast. “I want to know the feel of your flesh, all of you. I want to pleasure you, Ashton,” he said in a roughened voice that he barely recognized as his own.

“I think you just did,” she whispered.

“No, that was only the beginning.” He tilted his head up. “There are ways to bring you pleasure without consummation, but you must want it and you must trust me.”

She lowered her face and brushed her lips over his. “I do trust you, Christian, with all my heart, and I'll accept everything that you're willing to give.”

He kissed the valley between her breasts and began walking out of the water, knowing even as he did so that he was wandering more deeply into hell.

 

Ashton stared at the flames of the fire, brought to life by the driftwood Kit had added to keep her warm. She lay within the path of their light, while he was stretched out on the other side of her, hidden in the shadows, trailing his hand slowly, provocatively over her thigh, between her knee and hip.

She closed her eyes. She should have told him that she didn't need the fire. The warmth he created deep
within her was enough to ward off any chill that the night air might bring.

He nuzzled her neck, close to her ear. “Don't be afraid, Ashton.”

“I'm not.”

He slid his hand beneath her knee and raised her leg until he could skim his fingers along the back of her thigh. She purred low in her throat. His hands were unlike hers. His palms were rougher, yet his touch was gentler, so different from when she gave herself a bath. His movements were unhurried as though they had all night, as though the dawn would wait.

He moved his mouth along her neck and below her chin. “Like that?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she replied, enjoying each liberty he took. Lethargically, she tangled her fingers through his thick hair and glided one hand over his shoulder, relishing the solid muscles residing beneath his flesh.

Most of her life, she had been tired, but this sensation made her feel alive even as it caused her bones to melt. She might never move from this spot. Perhaps she would die here.