Forbidden Angel

by Sandra Lea Rice

  He began slowly. “I hold you in the highest regard, and—”

  “No more than that.” Her voice was flat, lacking all animation. His heart ached as he witnessed the color drain from her face.

  “There is more, Angeline. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.”

  Hurt and longing lay naked in her eyes. “But that, my lord, is not enough. We can’t always have all we want, even if it’s more than any other.”

  A sense of desperation washed through him. He would rather she get angry and yell at him than just sit there with sparse emotion on her face, and none in her voice.

  Adrian pressed his case. “We could have a good marriage. I would be a faithful husband to you and a good father to our children. You would never want for anything.”

  Her large, lavender eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Adrian, don’t you see? I would start our marriage wanting.”

  Slowly, she untwined their fingers. He felt the loss even as she stood.

  “I thank you for your kind offer, but I’m afraid I must refuse. As I have said before, I will leave in a few months and return to England.”

  He grabbed her wrist and held her in front of him. “What of desire?” he ground out, coming to his feet.

  She peered at him through her tears. “I might desire a new dress, or a bonnet. But after it’s been worn for a while, it loses its appeal and gets tossed aside.”

  “Damn it, Angeline, I would never toss you aside. What of passion? Don’t tell me you don’t feel passion when I hold and kiss you, because I know differently.”

  She flung her hands out in despair. “I wouldn’t try and deny it. But neither did I deny what I felt for you.”

  “Felt?” His chest tightened. He pictured a life without her and found it lacking, empty.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “For something to survive, it needs to be nurtured or it dies.”

  Adrian jerked her against him, then wrapped his arm around her in a tight band. Gone was the spark in her eyes, the glow that always seemed to light her face. If she would even yell and berate him, it would be better than the emptiness he saw as she gazed at him now.

  Chapter 17

  “You cannot leave here. You cannot leave me.” Adrian bent his head and took her lips in a demanding kiss. He needed her to want him, needed to see her lovely eyes glow soft lavender as they had when she’d felt desire for him.

  Sweet words be damned. She had responded to his kisses on more than one occasion, and she would again. But this time he wouldn’t stop there. If he allowed it, she would leave him and walk out of his life and into danger. Rather he spend the rest of his days making up to her for what he was about to do than see her hurt, or worse. He would show her what they could have if she would but try. The rest would surely follow.

  He loosened his arms and brushed his lips against her cheek, her temple, and the sensitive spot just under her ear, savoring the feel and taste of her. Only been a few days had passed since the attack and he didn’t know how tender her mouth still was. He gentled the kiss.

  When he kissed her again, tracing the soft fullness of her mouth and would have parted her lips with his tongue to allow him entry, she stiffened and turned her head away. With her lips pressed firmly together, her jaw clamped tightly shut, she refused to look at him.

  He nuzzled the side of her neck again, then kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat and felt her shiver.

  “My sweet, sweet Angel, kiss me,” he whispered against her ear.

  She continued to look away. Adrian took her chin between his fingers and gently eased her face toward his. He had no doubt of his eventual success. With his heart beating a wild tattoo in his chest, his blood pounding in his ears, he resolved to allow whatever time necessary for her eventual capitulation before he claimed her.

  It was amazing, the effect this one petite woman had on him. Already fully aroused, his body ached for her. But it was more important for her to find pleasure, so he girded his loins and proceeded slowly.

  When he rimmed her lips with his tongue, he felt her tremble. As he roused her passion, his own grew. He continued his assault on her defenses, nipping his way down the side of her neck to her shoulder, where he placed open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone.

  Her lips parted on a sigh and, without hesitation, he plunged into the warm recesses of her mouth, thrilled when her tongue found and slid against his. Although tentative at first, her strokes became more assertive, until she caught his tongue with hers and sucked.

  Adrian’s body shuddered in response. He flattened one hand against her back, slid his palm down over her rounded bottom to slowly, gently, urge her closer. When her belly pressed against his swollen flesh, her arms lifted to twine around his neck. Her soft sigh of surrender whispered through him as he buried his face in the hollow of her throat and drank in her scent.

  Her head tilted back. “We should stop before . . . before . . .”

  “Before what, Angel?” He nuzzled gently at the side of her neck.

  “You will mark me,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed.

  “So I shall.” He felt a primitive urge to brand her as his. As her head tipped to the side, he licked and mouthed the pulse beating furiously in her neck.

  With a soft sound of urgency and need, one he suspected she didn’t yet understand, she rubbed against him.

  Exquisite torture.

  Although his resolve remained the same, he found the reasons for making love to her expanding to encompass not only physical desire but a sense that this was meant to be, a coming together, long overdue. An acceptance that she was, and always had been, the one woman he had truly ever wanted.

  “That’s right, sweeting,” he said softly against her lips.

  Angeline cupped his face in her hands and pressed wet kisses against his lips, cheeks, and along the line of his jaw, stopping only to nip and lick the side of his neck. The nip turned to a soft bite, and he shuddered. He heard the very feminine hum as she nipped again. Passion erupted into molten heat, unbelievable, unexpected.

  Adrian swung her up into his arms and carried her to the tall grass beneath a tree.

  “Adrian?” she questioned softly, as he laid her on the makeshift bed.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He dropped down beside her. God forgive me.

  She stared up at him, her eyes soft with desire. Given the choice, he would rather face a firing squad than see what he feared he would one day see in those lovely eyes, should she ever discover the truth behind his actions. But at this moment he wasn’t certain what that truth really was.

  Deftly working the buttons free on her blouse, he pulled the ribbons that secured her camisole, baring her breasts to his gaze. Round and firm, they were stunning. The bruise was still visible, and he gritted his teeth against the instant rage that shot through him. Dipping his head, he kissed the mark, then traced the bruise with his finger. He lifted and kneaded each full, soft globe, feeling their weight in his hands, then drew his fingers alongside to lightly caress.

  “I have always thought you beautiful, but that did not come anywhere near the truth. You are exquisite, Angeline. An exquisite, rare, treasure.”

  Adrian lowered his head to her breasts, drawing each nipple into his mouth to suckle. Her breasts rose and fell with her shuddering, uneven gasps as his fingers trailed down her sides and across her belly.

  How he wanted her. Even the sound of her passion had the ability to render him witless and, as her need grew to match his own, his world narrowed to just Angeline.

  To the silkiness of her black hair as it spread out around her on the grass.

  To the feel of her skin, smooth and white as porcelain, bathed in a film of moisture as she moved restlessly beneath his skilled fingers.

  To her proud breasts, the nipples hardening at the touch of his mouth.

  His gaze traveled to her narrow waist and the swell of her hips. He glanced up to see eyes, like large pools of vi
olet, searching his face.

  “You are so very precious to me, Angeline,” Adrian whispered as he bent to kiss her lips and felt the tension in her ease. He flicked open the buttons of her skirt and drawers to slide them down over her hips and legs.

  He straightened, long enough to remove her boots and ease the rest of her clothing over her feet and toss them aside. The triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs beckoned, but there were some things that should wait. Although he wanted to taste her essence, he didn’t want to shock or frighten her.

  Instead, he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss full of tenderness and gentle persuasion while his fingers teased up her leg to the inside of her thigh. When he finally touched her damp curls, she jerked and moaned deep in her throat.

  Adrian began to stroke her, carefully parting the delicate folds to slip a finger, then two inside. “I want to make love to you, Angel.” He knew how she would interpret that and despised himself for it.

  Slender arms clasped his neck as she opened her mouth to him, finding and caressing his tongue with hers, as her hips lifted and rocked against his hand.

  In one quick movement, he jerked open his shirt and pulled it from the waistband of his trousers. He needed to feel the heat of her skin against his. When her hands skimmed across his chest and shoulders, he closed his eyes. She explored, trailing her fingertips down his belly to the waistband of his trousers, where she paused.

  “Touch me, Angel,” Adrian whispered against her lips. He would beg if necessary just to feel her caress him.

  Her palm pressed against his erection and slowly, tentatively, she began to move her fingers up and down his hard length.

  He forgot to breathe.

  Adrian clamped his jaw and fought for control as he worked his fingers inside her.

  “You are so hot, so wet,” he ground out.

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to clamp her thighs together.

  “Oh, my sweet, it’s as it should be. Your body is telling me it’s ready for mine.”

  Quickly unbuttoning his trousers, he released his swollen member and moved over her and positioned himself between her thighs, spreading them further. He pressed against her opening and gently nudged inside. Her eyes widened and she held his gaze as he pushed slowly into her.

  Heat wrapped around him like a tight, velvet glove and he inched further, then withdrew slightly and eased in again. She was narrow and he was large. She moved as if trying to scoot away.

  “Easy, sweetheart.” He pressed in further and felt the barrier of her maidenhead.

  “Take my hands.” He withdrew slightly.

  She found and gripped his hands. “You won’t fit.”

  “I will, Angel.” He lowered his mouth to hers and in one strong thrust breached her innocence, planting himself deeply inside.

  She whimpered into his mouth, her muscles clamping against the invasion.

  “I’m sorry, my sweet. The breaching is done. I promise our lovemaking will not hurt again.” He dropped kisses on her eyelids and cheeks. “Relax, and let me give you pleasure.”

  Within moments, Angeline felt the pain recede and her muscles began to relax. Adrian filled and stretched her before the pressure gave way to an extraordinary tension as he moved slowly inside her. Then he withdrew almost completely and she felt every inch of him as he slid back in.

  She had dreamed of this with Adrian. Not knowing what to expect, she had envisioned their making love would be something wonderful. And it was. When he set a slow and steady rhythm, pulling back and pushing in again—over and over—a heat began in her limbs to spread through her belly to the place where they joined. Instinctively, she lifted her hips and began to move with him, matching his strokes as pleasure built.

  “You are glorious, magnificent, and so very sweet,” he whispered against her lips. A tremor shook him.

  He’d said he wanted to make love to her. Surely he must also love her.

  His body glistened with perspiration as he moved within her and she rose up to kiss his neck, running her tongue over him. “You taste salty.”

  He chuckled in response, his breathing ragged.

  “Wrap your legs around me. It will be easier for you.” He slid his hands under her hips.

  She brought her legs about his waist and instinctively slanted her hips to take him deeper. He pulled back and thrust in, burying himself to the hilt.

  “Oh,” she managed, pushing against him.

  He began to move faster, deeper, and she closed her eyes against the rising pain that was not a pain, an ache that was not an ache. She needed something—more. She dug her nails into his arms. “Adrian . . .”

  “I adore you, my angel.” She heard his words, soft, urgent against her lips. “Let it happen, sweetheart.”

  There was a roaring in her ears and her body arched against his as white points of light sparked behind her lids. Her head pressed back as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure washed over her. Her body tightened and convulsed and when he thrust again, she shattered, falling over the edge of a precipice, to drift and float in timeless bliss.

  He thrust once, twice, and then held motionless as a rush of heat filled her womb. And still she drifted, boneless, aware only of his arms wrapped tightly around her, his body slumped against hers, and the steady beat of his heart.

  She must have slept for when she opened her eyes she found his arm beneath her head and the other wrapped around her. Her skirt now covered her legs and hips.

  “Are you all right?” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “That was—was—” She burrowed against him.

  “Yes, it most certainly was.” He chuckled. “We should get dressed and start back.”

  “Must we?” Angeline stretched languorously and ran her fingertips across his taut belly.

  He caught her hand. “As much as I want to, we cannot. You’ll be sore and your body needs time to recover. I’m a large man and I was inside you for quite some time.” He rose and pulled her to her feet, leading her toward the pond.

  She followed, as a kind of euphoria enveloped her. He’d said he adored her, and he’d made love to her in such a wonderful way.

  “Come in with me.” He grinned, stepped out of his trousers and drawers, and waited.

  Angeline stared in wonder at Adrian, at the body that had just lain so intimately with hers. His torso sleekly muscled, his shoulders and arms powerful, well muscled. The crisp hair on his chest tapered down to a flat abdomen and lower, where he remained partially aroused. She met his gaze and heat washed over her. “I—you—”

  He smiled, obviously comfortable with his nudity. “Hmm. Come on, my sweet,” he coaxed, now waist deep in the water. “Where is the woman who challenged me to swim?”

  Despite the warmth of the day, the water was surprisingly cold. After a few halting steps, she dove in, surfacing a few feet from where Adrian tread water. They swam for a few minutes, playing and splashing like children. When Angeline stepped into the shallow water and stopped to brush the moisture from her face, she found his gaze on her. His perusal moved slowly down the length of her body, now heated by the visual caress.

  “You remind me of a water nymph.” His voice was a husky whisper.

  Her gaze drifted from his face, downward over the tanned body. “You are so handsome, Adrian. So beautiful.” With only the Greek statues or the sketches in some of her father’s books to compare him to, it was evident he was a magnificent specimen of adult male, one that stood before her, now fully aroused.

  She moved closer and trailed her fingers down the middle of his chest to wrap around his straining manhood. He tipped his head back and groaned. He was like velvet over iron. Her fingers encircled him and squeezed lightly.

  “Make love to me again, Adrian. Now.” She was desperate to feel him inside her.

  Adrian lifted her against him. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  When she complied, he eased her carefully down onto his hard length. She gasped.

  �
�Are you all right?” he breathed against her neck.

  “Oh, yes.” Although tender, Angeline wanted him with an urgency that surprised her. She moved on him, rising up, then sliding down, experimenting, discovering the different sensations this position brought, but not finding what she wanted. She gave a frustrated whimper, clinging to him. His hands gripped her sides and he held her, thrusting deeply. She grasped his shoulders and allowed him to take her as he would, until the world fell away and she cried out his name.

  Adrian pumped against her a few more times, then shuddered and stilled, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Moments later he stirred, disengaged himself, and lowered her feet into the water. Then, with her hands on his shoulders to steady her, he knelt and tenderly washed the traces of blood from between her thighs. She felt herself flush at the intimate attention.

  Water sparkled off his hair and she ran her fingers through the light strands. Raising his head, he met her gaze.

  When, hand-in-hand, they walked from the pond, Adrian bent and retrieved his shirt and slipped it around her shoulders, then spread her skirt on the grass for her to sit on. Without a word, he pulled on his drawers and trousers and looked out over the water.

  “Adrian?” She reached out a hand for his. He took her palm and squatted down beside her on the grass.

  Suddenly uncertain, she questioned, “What is it?”

  He bent his head and stared at the ground in front of them. “I should never have touched you.”

  A chill slid up her spine. “Do you regret—”

  “God, no.” His head jerked up.

  “Then I don’t understand.” She slid her hand from his.

  “I wanted to show you what it could be like if we wed.”

  A rush of anger filled her. Where she’d felt joy, she now felt only betrayal. “Are you telling me this to lessen your guilt? You hide behind your moral code when it suits you and toss it aside when it’s inconvenient. Well, my lord, I understand things far better than you. I feel no guilt over lying with you. I openly admit to wanting you.”

  She jumped to her feet and pulled on her clothes. “This changes nothing, Adrian. If you thought it would, you’re wrong. And,”—she whirled to face him—“you might wish to examine why you haven’t returned to England. The man I knew, or thought I knew, would not shirk his responsibility simply because—because—”