Samantha James (19 page)

Long moments passed before the throb of his heart slowed. He combed his fingers through the web of curls tangled about them both. Easing to his side, he cradled her close. A finger beneath her jaw, he guided her mouth to his and kissed her tenderly.

“Stay the night with me,” he whispered. In answer she smiled against his lips and pillowed her head against his shoulder.

It wasn’t long before her breathing was deep and even. A powerful tide of emotion swept over him as he watched her sleep. She was his, he thought possessively. He had been her first lover…

His arms tightened. He vowed he would be her
only
lover.

It was then he heard it…the hoot of an owl outside the window. An eerie chill sped down his spine…

To the Gypsies it was an omen of death.

Esther had come only an hour earlier, but Emily
had explained that there was no need for her to stay the night after all—Olivia would be home, later than usual, perhaps, but she would still be home. Apparently there had been a mix-up, and Olivia had simply forgotten to tell her. She prayed she was right; that Esther hadn’t been suspicious. She hadn’t lied, she told herself, merely stretched the truth a bit. Olivia would indeed be home—tomorrow. And she wouldn’t be alone…

Andre would be here soon.

Andre
. She shifted a little where she lay on the bed, wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. Her entire body seemed to hum at the mere thought of him. She loved him—she loved him so much, and she was almost certain he was in love with her. He was sweet and attentive and considerate and—and she couldn’t imagine life without him! She’d even begun to think of the future, and Andre was very much a part of that future. If all went as planned, he’d soon ask her to marry him. They would share a cottage—it didn’t matter how big or small—as long as they were together. In time they would have children—a little dark-haired boy,
perhaps…or a tiny little girl. Oh, but life would be so wonderful!

True, she didn’t know what his family would think of her—or his marrying her. Would they like her? Accept her as his wife? A niggling little doubt surfaced. Yet in the very next instant, it struck her that she really knew very little about his family. His parents, or even if he had brothers and sisters.

She frowned suddenly. She’d asked several times about his family, but now that she considered it, he’d told her very little—only that there were times his family had not stayed long in one place. To Emily, who had rarely ventured further than the next county, it sounded like a grand, wonderful adventure, and she’d gone on to wistfully inquire about the places he’d been. Only now did it occur to her that he had seemed almost reluctant, rather vague, when she’d asked about his family…But no. She chided herself. Andre was not a man to harbor secrets, she felt it in her very heart and soul. He was warm and compassionate, so open and honest that she could not even begin to imagine that he would ever lie to her about anything.

As for Olivia, Emily knew that her sister only wanted her to be happy—and Andre made her happy. Of course, she should tell Olivia about him, and soon…

So intent on her musings was she that for once she failed to hear the door open. The next thing she knew she felt something incredibly soft run down the tip of her nose, circle around her cheek and finally come to rest against the center of her mouth.

She smiled. “You brought me a rose.”

She heard soft, masculine laughter. “I did.”

The mattress dipped as he sat beside her.

“What color is it?”

“A dark shade of red.”

Her smile turned wistful. “That’s always been my favorite.”

Setting the rose aside, Andre reached for her. She came into his arms, nestling her cheek against his shoulder. A fierce swell of masculine pride welled within him when she turned her lips up to his. Lord, she was sweet.

It was a very long time before he released her lips. The curtains at the windows were open. Moonlight shimmered through the glass, making the room nearly as light as day.

He gave a playful tug at the lacy neckline of her nightgown. “I thought you were expecting me.”

A tremor shot through her. “I was,” she confided shyly. She twined her arms around his neck anew, and gathered every ounce of her courage. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “
Stay
.”

The world seemed to turn upside-down. Andre went very still.
No
, he thought in amazement. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought…

His body had gone tense. “Are you certain Olivia won’t be back?”

Emily nodded her head. “Not until late tomorrow. The Gypsy earl is having a ball. She’s spending the night at Ravenwood.”

In the back of his mind he noticed the way she said “Gypsy”…with a telltale disdain. He winced. Damn, but he felt so guilty for not telling her the truth.

Yet if he did, he was very much afraid he would not be here right now.

Time stretched between them, time where he wavered, first one way, then the other.

A frown marred the smoothness of her brow. She spoke his name. “Andre?”

Andre stared down at her, torn cleanly in two. Her lips hovered just beneath his, soft and full and tempting. His heart was pounding, thudding heavily in his chest. Desire flamed in his veins, yet his mind urged caution. He should say no. He should leave this instant. But she was so warm, so willing…

She touched his mouth in silent question.

Andre smothered a groan. His fingers slid into the golden waterfall of her hair, tilting her mouth to his. He kissed her with ravenous hunger. She arched against him, as if he were all she’d ever wanted. For Andre, it was both heaven and hell—the moist clinging of her mouth beneath his, the eager press of her body against his, knowing she wore nothing beneath her nightgown…He was half-mad with sheer need.

Suddenly he broke off the kiss. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “This isn’t right.”

Emily stared at him in shock. The realization dawned slowly. She’d made a fool of herself, she realized. She’d thrown herself at him, but he didn’t want her.
He didn’t want her!

She managed to swallow the burning ache in her throat. “Go then,” she cried, “if that’s what you want—”

The blur of tears in her voice was his undoing. Andre could no longer fight it. He’d wanted her since the moment he’d first seen her. He’d wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman—he would
never
want anyone the way he wanted her. He snared her by the waist when she would have turned away, bringing her flush against his chest.

“That’s not what I want,” he whispered, sounding raw inside.

Emily had to stop herself from pounding her fists against his chest in sheer frustration. “Then what
do
you want?” she cried softly.

His hands tightened around her waist. He could feel her trembling. “What I want is right here. What I want is
you
.” His tone vibrated with need. “But I can’t stop myself from wondering…what if you’re sorry? What if you regret it?”

Emily blinked back tears. Love crowded her heart, almost more than she could contain. Lifting her hands, she framed his face between her palms.

“I won’t be sorry. I won’t regret it. And I can think of nothing that feels more right—” Her lips were tremulous, her lovely blue eyes abrim. “—than to be here with you.”

Andre was lost. He turned her so that she was on her knees before him, taking her lips in a long, unbroken kiss, breathing into it all the fire of his longing. His hands at her shoulders, he whisked the gown from her body. Slowly he released her mouth and looked his fill.

She was perfect, her skin creamy-white and unblemished. Her breasts were small, tipped with cherry-rose nipples he ached to taste with lips and tongue. Her hips flared out from her narrow waist. Her belly was flat and smooth as satin.

“Andre?” She tipped her head to the side. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m looking at you.” Almost reverently he traced the incurve of her waist, the line of her hips.

Emily blushed, yet she wouldn’t have traded this moment for the world. Desire spread its fiery
wings all through her. Her hands crept up to his chest. “And do I…please you?”

He gave a low, husky laugh. “Princess,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, “if you pleased me any more, I should surely die of it.”

His mouth slid down the slender length of her neck. His hands drifted over her, discovering the ripe fullness of her breasts, the nip of her waist, the swell of her hips. She didn’t stop him. She let him touch her wherever he wanted,
however
he wanted. Something hotly possessive welled up in him. To think that she wanted him…
him
…

Slowly he raised his head. His clothes were suddenly a barrier he could not tolerate. Swiftly he removed them, throwing them aside.

Emily’s heart leaped when his hands again laid claim to her waist. Then his mouth was on hers and he was pulling her down beside him on the bed. A jolt ran through her as her legs brushed the hairy roughness of his. He was as naked as she…

Soon it didn’t matter. His body threw out the heat of a fire. Never had she felt so warm, so safe—like the night he’d comforted her after her nightmare. His arms were a sheltering haven from all that could ever harm her.

She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She couldn’t imagine being
with
anyone else.

She ran her hands wildly over his chest and shoulders and arms, loving the steely strength of muscle sheathed in skin. Her shyness slipped away, like morning dew beneath a blazing sun. She gasped when he drew brazen circles around her nipples, then at last raked his thumbs across the straining peaks. Pure sensation seemed to leap from those twin peaks.
Please
, she thought dazedly,
not quite certain what it was she was pleading for.
Oh, please…

As if he knew exactly what she craved, his head slid down her body. When at last his mouth encompassed one deep pink center, a breathless sigh escaped. Her head fell back as he touched one delicate tip with his tongue. Then he was lightly sucking, tugging like a tide, all the way to her heart. Her hands slipped into the warm silk of his hair, as if to keep him there forever.

She quivered wherever he touched her—and he touched her all over, even there in the forbidden place between her thighs. Her head was spinning when at last he levered himself over her.

“I’ll try not to hurt you, princess.” The words were a hot mutter against the curve of her jaw. “Don’t be afraid.”

She caught his head in her hands and ran her thumbs over the fullness of his lower lip. She smiled, a smile of sweet serenity. “You won’t hurt me,” she whispered, “and I could never be afraid of you.”

A groan broke from his chest. Even as he took her mouth in a deep, fervent kiss, he eased within her body, his penetration agonizingly slow.

A sharp sting was all Emily felt…It had scarcely registered before it began to fade. There was no pain, only a delicious sense of being filled as never before, a marvelous sense of oneness and completion.

At last he lay fully planted within her silken depths. She smiled anew. “You see,” she chided gently, “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” A sigh escaped. “How could anyone be afraid of something so wonderful?”

He gave a half-laugh, half-groan. And then he kissed her, a kiss so sweetly tender she could have cried. A wellspring of emotion poured through her, every part of her. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, burying her face against the side of his neck.

“I love you,” she said helplessly. “Oh, Andre, I love you so much…” The words were torn from deep inside her.

With a ragged moan Andre caught them with his lips. He abandoned all hope of restraint. He began to move, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as the tempest within rose to a crescendo. Their hips met again and again, a dance of primitive glory. It pushed them both toward the edge, bringing them to a shattering release.

It was a long time later that Andre eased to his side next to her. A possessive hand at her hip, he bent low and availed himself of a kiss. To his shock, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears…

Alarm skittered through him. “Emily,” he cried, “what is it? Did I hurt you?”

She turned and reached for him. “No, Andre, no! It was—quite wonderful.” Faith, but the word seemed so inadequate! “Indeed, I could ask for no more…except, perhaps…”

He peered into her face. “What, princess, what?”

“If only I’d been able to see you,” she whispered.

Her heartache bled through to her voice. Andre drew her close, battling a feeling of weary helplessness. He could only imagine what it was like for her—to grow to womanhood with sight unimpaired, only to be robbed of it in little more than the blink of an eye.

His arms tightened. She lived in a world without color and light, he thought achingly. Were it only within his power, he would gladly give up his very soul, if only she could see again.

He kissed her temple, cradling her tight against his side. “Go to sleep,” he urged softly. Miraculously, she did.

Instead it was Andre who lay awake long into the night.

Sunshine poured through the window the next morning, filling the bedroom with dappled splashes of light. A quick glance revealed Emily was still asleep. He eased out of bed, careful not to jar her.

As he pulled on his clothes, the sunlight caught the reflection of a small object that lay atop the bureau—it was the crystal he’d given her. He drew a sharp breath. His expression softened. So. She’d kept it.

His gaze swung back to her. She lay on her back, her hair spilling all around like the halo of an angel, her lips slightly parted. Unable to resist temptation’s lure, he bent, just barely grazing her lips with his.

She stirred, rolling to her side. “Andre?” she murmured sleepily. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. To his surprise, she squeezed them shut again. “The light!” he heard her say.

Andre went utterly still. Was it possible…? He sucked in a breath. His head swiveled slowly. He stared at the crystal.

Emily seemed to share the same thought as well. An expression of sheer puzzlement flitted across her features. Her hands flitted to her eyes. “The
light,” she breathed, only now it was with a sense of wonder.

She was fully awake by now. “Andre!” she cried.

He was at her side in a heartbeat. “I’m here, princess.” He forced down the excitement gathering in his chest. “Emily, did you see something? Anything?”

“I—I thought I did. I—I said nothing to you or Olivia, but it happened last week as well. Only now it seemed much…”

“What? Emily,
what?
”

Her hands had come up to shield her eyes. She was shaking. “Much brighter,” she said faintly. She drew a deep, quivering breath. “My crystal,” she said suddenly. “Where is it, Andre? I—I need it!”

What if it was true? What if she regained her sight? In truth, he’d never thought it would come to pass. For one mind-splitting instant, he was tempted to dissuade her, for if she saw him, she would know…An arrow of guilt sliced through him. No.
No
. If it were possible for her to see again, he could not take this from her…He
would
not.