Temptation’s Tender Kiss

by French, Colleen

  She smiled hesitantly. "So have I," she admitted against his lips.

  They kissed deeply, exchanging a bittersweet token of their desire. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest. Sterling lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and sat back on the edge of the bed to gaze at her. The firelight poured through the tapestry bedcurtains, setting her hair aflame with bright color. Her face was pale and her mouth quivered.

  He leaned, kissing her brow as if he could kiss away her fears. "There is nothing more beautiful than the love between a man and a woman," he assured her huskily.

  She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed over the mounds of her breasts. Every nerve was raw within her as he stroked her body through the thin weave of her sleeping gown. He kissed her softly again and again until she rolled toward him, pressing her lips hard against his.

  Cautiously Sterling untied each satin bow of her gown. Inside he raged with desire and the need to seek fulfillment, but he forced himself to move slowly, to give her time to adjust to each new sensation.

  A soft moan escaped Reagan's lips as he slipped his hand beneath the filmy swanskin and his fingers touched her bare breast.

  "Ohh, that's wonderful. " Her voice rose like a sigh.

  He smiled. "You're easy to please," he whispered as he lowered his mouth to her nipple.

  Reagan arched her back in surprise, catching his head with her hands. She ran her fingers through his thick blond hair, in awe of the power of his caress. Her entire body quaked with feelings never experienced before. Her eyes drifted shut as he suckled her, taunting her breast to an erect peak.

  He lifted his own shirt over his head and let it drift to the floor. It was madness, the feel of her hesitant fingers exploring his bare shoulders and chest, finding his own hardened nipples.

  Sterling stroked her gently, feeling his way to the hollow of her stomach beneath her rib cage. His fingers traced an intricate pattern as he teased her flesh until she quivered with want. When his hand found the down between her thighs, she half sat up with surprise. He whispered soft, sweet words of assurance and she relaxed in utter trust.

  "I've never felt like this before," she told him, her breath coming in short gasps. "I didn't know."

  He lifted her gown over her head to admire her breathtaking form, and color diffused through her cheeks. Sterling could feel his own heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. He wanted to take it slowly this first time with Reagan, but his own desire was burgeoning beneath his breeches. His hands went to the leather ties and she watched through heavy-lidded lashes. Self-consciously, Sterling slipped from the confining fabric and stretched out beside her.

  Reagan lay back on the pillow, her eyes closed, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her as he stroked her naked flesh. When he rolled onto her, she arched her hips instinctively, wanting to feel his male hardness against her.

  Sterling sprinkled her face with kisses, holding the bulk of his weight off her with his powerful arms. She moved against him, her hips already rising and falling in an ancient rhythm. He touched her gently with his lingers, stroking her damp, moist flesh. She moaned softly.

  He lowered his head, to whisper in her ear. "It will hurt, but only for a moment, my love, and then never again."

  She nodded but didn't lift her lashes. Her head was thrown back on the pillow, her thick hair falling partially across her cheek.

  Unable to hold back another moment, Sterling eased his shaft into her. She rose up, and a small gasp escaped her lips. Sterling held completely still, trying to slow his breathing. He had dreamed of her for so long that it was impossible to hold back. He began to move, slowly at first, until she rose and fell with him.

  She clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. "Grayson," she murmured. "Grayson."

  Sterling squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't bear to hear her call his brother's name. "Reagan," he whispered. "Reagan, my love."

  She raised her hips against him, again and again becoming one with him as her body strained for what she did not know. She cried out, in utter agony . . . in sweet jubilation as he brought her closer and closer to the threshold of full womanhood.

  Suddenly there was a burst of bright light and Reagan gasped as every muscle in her body tensed. She was filled with the white light of fulfillment.

  Sterling broke stride in shocked surprise. No woman was supposed to gain such pleasure with her first encounter with a man. He held her tightly, kissing her perspiration-soaked face as she trembled, slowly falling back to earth. Then Sterling began to move again, faster, stroking harder as he sought his own release. Reagan wrapped her legs around his, moving with him again, and he arched his back, groaning with pleasure as he finally found peace. Sterling collapsed in relief and she laughed, deep in her throat, her voice still blurred with passion.

  "Grayson, I can't breathe!" She pushed at his damp chest and he rolled onto the bed. He still struggled to catch his breath as he buried his face in her hair. A damp and musty smell of pleasure clung to her, making him want her all over again.

  "Reagan," he managed.

  She stroked his back. "It's gotten rather warm in here, hasn't it?"

  He laughed at her joke, rolling onto his side to gaze at her lovely, flushed face. "You certain you haven't done this before?"

  Playfully, she grasped a handful of his hair and pulled his head up. "You know very well I haven't! My sheets will be proof of that."

  His kissed her love-bruised mouth. "I know. You've given me the greatest gift a woman can give a man."

  Reagan sobered. "I don't understand myself. You're still a red—"

  He pressed his mouth to hers, cutting off her last words. "Not tonight, love. Let's not talk about it tonight."

  She brushed back a lock of his blond hair, returning his kiss. "All right," she answered quietly. "Just so long as you know—"

  He kissed her again. "I know, I know, but like you said, we can pretend. " He lowered his head to her breast, snuggling against their warmth.

  Reagan sighed, stroking the corded muscles of his shoulders. All right, she thought. I won't think about it, not tonight, but tomorrow I must. This changes nothing, yet it changes everything.

  For a long time they lay in peace. Sterling forced himself to remain still as she explored his body with her light touch. The fire crackled and spit, dying down low until the embers glowed red. Reagan rested in Sterling's arms and he grew drowsy.

  "Grayson. " Reagan suddenly sat up, pushing him aside.

  He pushed up on one elbow, his brows furrowed. She was always so intense. "What?"

  "That song. How did you know that song?"

  "What song?" He brought the counterpane over them to ward off the chill in the room.

  "The song I was playing that morning on the spinet. The Liberty Song. How did you know the tune?"

  Sterling paled. She had caught him off guard. He tugged at the counterpane, trying to stall for time. Then he looked up at her, smiling with a shrug. "God's bowels, Reagan! You don't think the tune was original, do you? You don't think that Dickenson fellow wrote it on his own?"

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

  He laughed, his brother's voice parting his lips. "He stole the music from an old English song. Only the words were original. " What a liar I've become, Sterling thought dismally. Falsehoods roll off my tongue as easily as truths these days!

  Reagan lay back. "Oh. " She wasn't quite convinced. Something just didn't seem right about the tone of his voice.

  "How did you possibly think I would have known it?"

  She pulled the covers up to her chin. "I don't know. " She turned to him, studying his face intently. "You're not one of those counterspies are you?"

  He swallowed hard against his rising fear. If she knew, how could he protect her? "Madam?" He stared back quizzically.

  "You haven't been in General Washington's camp, pretending to be one of us. It would be easy e
nough. You said yourself your brother had been a patriot. He could have inadvertently given you all sorts of information you could use to work under cover. " Her dark gaze bore down on him. "If you were a spy, I'd turn you in—that or kill you myself."

  He chuckled. She was perfectly serious! He could tell by the look in her eyes that she'd not hesitate to turn in a man she thought to be betraying his fellow soldiers, even if he was her lover.

  "Don't be ridiculous, Reagan," Sterling answered, relieved that she didn't suspect his true identity. "Me in a Colonial camp? Where in heaven's name would I get a proper palm toddy?" She frowned, and he leaned to kiss one pert breast. "Now come here and warm me, it's grown cold in here."

  Giving in to Sterling's charm, she settled in his arms, letting the sensation of his tongue on her nipple drown out her thoughts. Tomorrow the war would come tumbling down on them again, but tonight was theirs to savor.

  Snow fell from the heavens, covering the cobblestone walk, and Sterling hurried down the street. He had returned to Uriah's printshop, but had been unable to find evidence to prove Uriah had been the penman he sought. Any proof had gone to the grave with the courageous patriot.

  After picking his way through the charred timbers of the printshop, Sterling had walked to Major Burke's headquarters and spoken with him. He presented his evidence, and the major seemed to be satisfied that the case was closed. He was, however, annoyed that Indian John had reached the conclusion first and had reported it yesterday. Sterling made no mention that the half-breed was responsible for the fire. He intended to take care of the bastard on his own.

  Major Burke said he would think on Sterling's next assignment, and in the meantime he was to stand duty at the Walnut Street prison. Once dismissed, Sterling had made his way immediately in the direction of the Blue Boar Tavern.

  The wind howled, and he walked faster, passing Christ's Church. In the distance he could see the mourners huddled together over the shallow grave-site of Uriah Llewellyn. The churchyard was filled with friends and relatives of the family and Sterling longed to join them. He wanted to say farewell; he wanted to stand at Reagan's side but he didn't dare.

  Keeping his head down, Sterling hastened by, trying not to think of Reagan and the glorious night they had spent together. He had left her bedchamber before dawn and had not spoken to her. He wasn't purposely avoiding her . . . Actually he was. He wanted to hold on to those memories just a little longer. He wanted to pretend, just for a few hours, that everything was perfect between them. He wanted to think he would sleep beside her tonight, but he knew he was just fantasizing. Reagan had made it clear that only for one night could she lay aside his scarlet coat and forget the man that he was.

  Reaching the Blue Boar, he went in. His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he perused the busy public room. Spotting the half-breed Indian across the room, he strode over. "John?"

  The half-breed turned, laughing. "Yea? What'cha want?"

  Sterling grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him out of his chair. "You bastard! You burned that printshop!"

  Indian John's feet dangled above the floor. "So what if I did?"

  Sterling slammed his body against the wall. "You hit her. " He held him with one hand, knocking him in the jaw with his fist.

  Indian John's head reeled back, ramming into plastered wall. The buzz of conversation dwindled as men stood to see what was happening.

  "That's enough, Captain," someone called from the crowd. "You'll be on report."

  Sterling gritted his teeth, his attention focused on Indian John's scarred face. "You ever touch her again and I'll kill you, you understand me, you slimy son of a whore?"

  The half-breed gave a crooked grin and Sterling caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Instantly he sidestepped the Indian's blade and slammed his wrist against the wall, knocking the hunting knife from his fingers. Kicking the knife backward into the center of the room, Sterling threw several well-aimed punches. "You're messing with the wrong man this time, redskin!"

  Indian John gave a muffled groan as Sterling released him and he slid to the floor. Sterling turned away, ignoring everyone's stares. He went straight to the door.

  "This isn't over, you arrogant bastard," Indian John called after Sterling as he disappeared into the night.

  Reagan pushed her way through the crowd of friends and neighbors that filled her sitting parlor. She moved numbly, offering food and drink, responding appropriately when someone offered a word of condolence. Several friends had suggested she sit and rest, but she felt better with something to do with her hands.

  "Reagan. " Elderly Mistress Claggett came slowly toward her, a gentle smile on her wrinkled face.

  When she offered her ringed hand, Reagan accepted it warmly. "Thank you so much for taking care of Papa. I don't know that I could have done it."

  "Of course you could have. " Mistress Claggett smiled. "But I wanted to do it for you."

  Reagan helped her into a chair near the fireplace. "Is there anything I can get you? Something more to eat? Our friends have been so generous. It will take us months to eat all of this food."

  "Certainly not, child. But I wanted to speak to you. " She settled on the chair and set her cane aside, arranging her fashionable petticoats.

  "What about?"

  The old patriot lowered her graveled voice. "There's been talk, Reagan, even before your father died and now"—she shrugged her withered shoulders—"now it will be worse. Why not come and live with me?"

  "Talk? Whatever do you mean. I can't leave here, This is my home. Elsa is comfortable here. She could never adjust elsewhere."

  "You and the captain," Mistress Claggett said gently. "It's just not seemly."

  Reagan paled. "Grayson? What are they saying about me and Grayson?"

  "That you're his demirep," she answered honestly.

  Reagan kneeled on the blue Turkey carpet. "Who calls me a whore?" she asked fiercely.

  "There, there," Mistress Claggett soothed. "It's just idle talk. No one has anything better to do with their time than deface the character of their neighbors."

  "I'm no whore!" she insisted. I love Grayson. A woman can't be a whore to the man she loves! she screamed from within.

  "Of course you aren't, dear. I know you would never do anything to dishonor yourself or your father's name. But maybe it would be better if you and your sister didn't remain alone with the captain."

  "No. " Reagan stood. "This is my home and here I'll stay. " She bit her lower lip. "But thank you for warning me."

  "I mean to carry no tales. " Mistress Claggett blotted her dry lips with a lace handkerchief. "I just don't want you to be hurt."

  "I know. " Reagan managed a smile. "Thank you. And now I had best return to the other guests."

  Hours later, Reagan, Nettie, and Elsa worked in the kitchen, washing dishes and storing leftover food goods. They were all tired and filled with the empty feeling one has when they've lost a loved one. Nettie was the first to give in.

  "Well, girlies," she said, stripping off her apron. "I'm going to bed. You leave the rest and I'll take care of it in the morning."

  Reagan put out her arms, embracing the old friend. "Thank you," she whispered, resting her head on the housekeeper's shoulder. She smelled of flour and arthritis tonic.

  "There, there. You're worn clean out. Go on with you."

  Reagan sniffed, stepping back. "You . . . you could move upstairs now if you like. You could take Papa's room."

  "Nonsense. " She waved a withered hand, headed for the lean-to she slept in. "I been laying my weary head in this room for forty odd years. I ain't about to change nuthin' now."

  Reagan chuckled, having known that would be Nettie's answer. "Good night to you then. " When Nettie had gone, she turned to Elsa who was kneeling on the hearth to pet her kitten. Mittens was half grown now, fat and sleek from a diet of mice and milk.

  "Nettie's right. To bed, Sister. Put the cat out."

  "Oh, Reagie. It's raining outsid
e. Let him stay. " Elsa petted the black cat and it arched its back, purring loudly.

  "Cats sleep out. He can get into the barn if he wants to."

  Elsa sighed, scooping up the animal. "Someday I'm going to have my own house and them I'm going to have a cat in the house. I'm going to have two cats," she said under her breath as she went out the back door.

  Reagan frowned, tossing a flannel towel onto the table. That was the second time in a week that Elsa had made mention of having her own home. How could she make Elsa understand that she could never have her own home, that she would always live with Reagan? Reagie sighed. Better to just let it pass, she reasoned. By next week she'll have forgotten about it entirely.

  Reagan was stoking the fire when she heard Grayson come in. The hair bristled on the back of her neck and her hand trembled as she lay the poker down. She could feel his hot hands on her as images of last night raced through her head. She remembered the taste of him and the feel of his manhood deep within her. Not trusting herself to speak, she went about her business, preparing to go to bed.

  Sterling stood in the doorway for several minutes watching Reagan as she moved about the room. Her cheeks were as pale as flour paste. "Reagan," he finally offered in a half-whisper.

  She spun around, holding up her hands as if to ward off some evil spirit. "Please, don't say it. Don't say anything. They're calling me your whore already," she flung bitterly.

  Sterling's arms ached to hold her, but he stood his ground. "It's just gossip."

  She shook her head. "A redcoat whore. That's what they're saying."

  "Is there anything I can do?" He felt so damned inadequate.

  "Yes. Don't ever come to my room again. Just let me be!" She snatched up a lantern and brushed past him, leaving him in darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sterling walked to the rear of the house where he found Reagan on her hands and knees pulling weeds from an herb bed. "I'm leaving."

  "Godspeed," she answered tonelessly.

  Sterling sighed. He was off for a night or two to carry a message to a band of patriots outside the city. He had told Reagan he was on business for Major Burke but that it was a delicate matter so she was not to tell anyone, not even a fellow officer. She had asked if the mission was dangerous, but when he'd replied yes, she'd only nodded and gone back to sorting a pile of buttons.