The Runaway Heiress

by Brenda Hiatt

  Again, she nodded mutely. He apparently understood it for the invitation it was, for he moved close behind her and set to work at once unlacing it. This time the chill as it opened was more pronounced —and even more welcome. She wasn't certain her body would not burst into flames before the pool could quench them.

  When he laid her corset aside, leaving her clad only in her shift, she finally turned to look at him and the delicious power of his naked torso struck her anew. "Now what?"

  His smile was slow, seductive. "We won't want to get our undergarments wet either, so it seems wisest to remove those as well."

  She glanced back at the locked doors, then around the room to reassure herself that there was not some other entrance she had never noticed before.

  "All . . . all of them?" Her voice squeaked slightly on the second "all" and she suddenly felt foolish. Of course they would have to have their clothes off to . . . to . . . Wouldn't they?

  "Unless you'd rather not." His voice was so gentle she nearly melted on the spot.

  "No, I'd rather. I'd definitely rather." To prove her words, she bent down and took off her dancing slippers, then lifted the hem of her shift to untie her garters. The first came undone easily enough, but the second caught and knotted.

  Swiftly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Thor knelt at her feet. "Here, let me."

  She caught her breath and willed herself to stillness as he slid his hands up her calf to the garter, tied just above her knee. His fingers fumbled with the knot, sending streaks of flame up her leg to the juncture of her thighs.

  "Hard to believe these little bits of lace can hold a lady's stockings up for a whole evening of dancing." She'd have thought he were commenting about the weather, if not for the slight tremor in his voice. "There. I hope I haven't ruined it."

  She took the garter from him and glanced at it. "No, it . . . it seems fine," she said, with no idea whether it was true or not. What the devil did she care about a garter at a time like this?

  "Good," he said, just as though it mattered. With a single, smooth movement he was back on his feet, towering over her, his bare chest so close that she could touch it—if only she dared.

  Where was her earlier boldness now? Dina lifted a tentative hand, then hesitated. "You don't intend to swim in your shoes and breeches, do you?" There. That was bold enough —for now.

  His slow smile made her wonder whether he guessed her thoughts —and her cowardice.

  "You're right." Bending from the waist, he unbuckled his shoes and kicked them over to the chair that held their clothing. Next he removed his hose, revealing calves as muscular as the rest of him. Then, straightening, he began to unfasten his breeches.

  Suddenly Dina didn't know what to do with her eyes. It seemed as awkward and cowardly to look elsewhere as it seemed forward and immodest to watch. She compromised by focusing on his face— until he glanced up and captured her gaze with his own.

  "You don't intend to swim in your shift, do you?" he asked, echoing her question to him.

  Belatedly, she realized she did have something to do other than stare. Turning half away to hide her embarrassment, she untied the ribbons at the front of her shift, loosening the low neckline. Then, her face still averted, she pushed it from her shoulders and past her waist and stepped out of it, as she had her gown.

  It felt exceedingly strange to be completely naked, a state she'd only experienced before when stepping into or out of a bath. According to legend, Atalanta had raced this way, but Dina realized she was no Atalanta. It took every ounce of her courage simply to turn around, heart hammering in her chest, and face her husband.

  While her back had been turned, he had also finished divesting himself of the last of his clothing. He now stood between her and the pool, looking like a magnificent Greek sculpture, though of smooth, golden flesh instead of marble.

  For a long moment, she drank in the glorious sight of him, too overcome to remember her own awkwardness. His broad chest tapered down to a relatively narrow waist, slim hips and powerful thighs. And— goodness! None of the drawings of Greek statues she had seen had given any hint of the size of his . . . his . . . No fig leaf would ever cover that!

  Startled, her gaze flicked to his face, to find him watching her. "Well?" he asked, one brow arching in wary amusement.

  "I . . . I never . . . That is . . ."

  "I hope you're not disappointed?"

  She gave her head a fervent shake. "Quite the reverse. I'd tried to imagine, but—"

  Not until she saw the relief in his sudden smile did she realize that he'd actually been worried she might recoil from the sight of his unclad body.

  "I've done a lot of imagining myself," he confided then, "and I must say that the reality far eclipses fantasy."

  How much better he put it than she had, she thought, then belatedly remembered that she was as naked as he, exposed to his gaze— which, to her own relief, was frankly admiring.

  "I . . . I'm glad," she stammered, resisting a strong urge to cover herself with her hands. "What do you suggest we do now?"

  He grinned. "I thought that was obvious."

  Confused, she dropped her gaze. "I mean, do we get into the pool, or—?" She couldn't resist peering through her lashes at that most amazing portion of his anatomy. How could it possibly—?

  "Yes, that was my idea. Here." He took one step forward and put a large, warm arm about her shoulders, guiding her toward the steps leading down into the shallow end of the small pool. "Violet tells me you can swim?"

  She nodded. "Yes, of course, but that wasn't what you had in mind tonight. Er, was it?"

  "We can begin with a swim. No need to rush anything, as we have all night." He stepped into the water, drawing her with him.

  The water deliciously engulfed her ankles, her calves, noticeably warmer than the surrounding air, its mineral tang sharp in her nostrils. The hot spring, she knew, was at the deeper end, continuously circulating the water, keeping it at the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold.

  "This pool is an engineering marvel," she commented, mainly for something to say, and to distract herself from what lay ahead. "Your grandfather was a very clever man."

  "He had the vision, yes, but he also had the funds to employ the finest engineers of his time to help him realize it. I confess, having grown up with this pool in the house, I've tended to take it for granted, but it is likely unique."

  "I've certainly never heard of anything like it."

  Together, they stepped deeper and deeper into the water until it lapped against Dina's breasts and Thor's waist, hiding that most fascinating part of him —not that she'd actually been looking, of course.

  When the water reached her shoulders and was midway up his chest, he said, "Shall we paddle around a bit? I used to sneak down here and swim nude on occasion as a young boy, but I've not done so in nearly twenty years."

  In answer, Dina lifted her feet and stroked forward, keeping her head above the water, mindful of her elaborately upswept hair. The water swirling against her breasts, between her legs, felt like a caress— indescribably erotic. She hoped he did not mean them to simply swim for long.

  "I see Violet was right." His voice, right beside her, made her start guiltily. "You are quite an adept swimmer." He matched her pace with no apparent effort.

  "As are you." Her voice was breathless, but not from exertion.

  His grin was only a flash of teeth in the dim light, as they were now some distance from the candle. "Did we not compliment each other's dancing similarly? It seems we are well matched in more ways than I had realized."

  They reached the far end of the pool, which Dina knew was six or seven feet deep, then turned and headed back. They had gone only a few strokes, however, when Thor stopped.

  "Come here, Dina."

  She turned toward him, putting one leg down, only to discover that she was still well out of her depth, though Thor was standing, the water lapping his shoulders. She took the hand
he held out to her and he drew her to him through the water, releasing her just before her bare breasts would have grazed his chest.

  For a moment she treaded water, but that made her bob foolishly about him. Gathering her courage, she put her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to be her anchor, her face on a level with his, for once.

  "See? Now I don't have to stoop," he said, echoing her thought, just before he put one firm hand behind her back and pulled her against him for a kiss.

  There were almost more new sensations than Dina could take in at once —the roughness of the hair on his chest against her sensitive breasts, the feel of his hands on her bare back, the dreamlike sensation of floating, effortlessly, in his embrace. And his kiss, which flamed her desires more intensely than ever before, abetted by the rest.

  She pressed herself more tightly against him, her arms now around his neck, her legs instinctively coming up to twine themselves around his waist. She gave a small gasp, shocked at herself, for that movement put her feminine cleft only inches above his rampant maleness. Indeed, she could feel its tip grazing the back of her thigh.

  "Oh! I didn't mean—" She started to pull away, but he clasped her to him.

  "It's all right, you didn't hurt me. You're being as gentle as you promised," he murmured. "We merely need to make a small, ah, adjustment."

  Kissing her again, he moved forward, up the sloping floor of the pool. As he did so, she felt herself sliding downward against him, her breasts, her opened cleft, rubbing against his chest and stomach, sending a new surge of desire through her.

  She clung to him, unsure of what she was supposed to do, but then his hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks, both supporting and guiding her until his shaft teased at the very spot that most hungered for his touch. Slowly, gently, he lowered her onto it, then, just as she was bracing herself for the inevitable thrust, he lifted her again.

  Her mouth still fastened to his, she whimpered at the loss of contact. Surely—? Yes, now he was lowering her again, further this time, until she could feel the size of him invading her, stretching her. And then, once more, he raised her higher, depriving her of that glorious sensation.

  Only for a moment. Again he let her drift downward, onto his impossibly hard erection, then lifted her, then lowered her again, each time deeper, quicker, until they were locked in a rhythm that drove them both inexorably toward a goal she couldn't quite fathom. She only knew that she would die if she did not reach it.

  The water made his hands, his body, as slick and smooth as butter, but the sheer size of him provided friction enough to push her nearer and nearer to that crisis she craved. As she began to think her body might ignite, turning all the pool to steam, he slid one hand under her thigh to touch her sensitive nubbin, even as he continued his primal rhythm within her.

  With a cry that echoed through the long room, Dina threw her head back and let herself fall, impaling herself upon him more deeply yet. The water, the world, seemed to shatter around her, or perhaps her body itself turned to water, flowing out in all directions in waves of pure pleasure.

  Dimly, echoing through what little awareness she had left of anything beyond her own ecstasy, she heard Thor give a loud groan. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly about him as he surged up into her, over and over, until he paused, his muscles as hard and taut as tempered steel, while she felt him pulsing, pulsing within her.

  As they both spiraled down, gradually relaxing, Dina recalled vaguely that she'd heard there would be pain the first time. But there had been no pain at all. Only pleasure. More pleasure than she'd imagined could exist in any one time and place.

  Slowly, gently, Thor raised her up again, to kiss her lingeringly on the lips. Then he pulled back to examine her face with tender concern. "I hope I didn't—"

  "May we do that again, please?" she asked before he could finish. "Now?"

  He blinked. "What?"

  She knew she sounded wanton, but she didn't care. "I've never enjoyed anything so much in my life. I had no idea— That is— Thank you. Will it always be like this?"

  Thor felt relief explode through him almost as strongly as his passion had a few moments earlier. He hadn't hurt her. Hadn't given her a disgust or, worse, a fear of him. The sudden release of anxiety made him chuckle.

  "Did I say something funny?" she asked, pushing against his chest as though to escape his embrace.

  Still chuckling, he caught her to him again, running his hands over her back, her buttocks, her lovely curves. His. His own tiny Venus, perfect in every way.

  "Not funny, no—just unexpected," he finally answered when she was beginning to frown. "I'm more delighted than I can express that you found this pleasurable."

  She was still frowning. "Didn't you? I thought—"

  "More than anything I've ever experienced. My thanks to you, as well. As for whether it will always be like this, I suppose only time will tell us that."

  He realized, almost with surprise, that he had not exaggerated in the least. No woman had ever brought him to such bliss, an ecstasy that left every other encounter far behind. Perhaps he and Dina really were formed for each other. It seemed the only explanation.

  Or maybe it was the water. He'd never before—

  "So, may we?"

  She was serious, he realized. She was also shivering.

  "You're cold."

  "Not cold. Perhaps not as hot as I was before. . . Well, maybe a little bit cold," she admitted, shivering again. "I've never spent so long in the pool before. But if we can do that again, I'm sure I will warm up at once." She pulled herself tight against him again and kissed his jaw.

  Already, Thor felt himself responding, so it was with genuine regret that he shook his head. "No, we need to get you out of the water, not deplete your energy further."

  He caught her about the waist and knees, cradling her as he walked toward the steps, hoping she would not catch a serious chill. She was so delicate, for all she was more passionate than any woman he'd ever known.

  "I can walk, you know," she protested, half-laughingly, as he carried her up the broad steps. "Though I'd rather . . . you know." She rubbed her cheek against his chest, catlike.

  Chuckling, he set her down —and her knees buckled. He caught her easily before she could fall, but now he regarded her with sharpened concern. "Are you certain you are all right?"

  "I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, stepping away from his embrace to prove her words. To his relief, she did not stumble. "I became too accustomed to the water, that is all."

  Seemingly embarrassed, she walked over to the niche in the wall that held a stack of rough linen towels. Though still somewhat worried, he couldn't help appreciating her shapely backside as she moved across the room. She wrapped a towel about her torso and brought another back for him.

  "You're still shivering," he pointed out, draping the second towel about her shoulders instead of using it himself. "Let's get you dried off and dressed."

  "Then we're not going to—?" She looked genuinely disappointed. And impossibly seductive, gazing up at him with her lips parted, still swollen from his kisses, the towel dipping down to reveal the tops of her breasts.

  "Not now," he said firmly, as much to himself as to her. "Besides, it must be nearly three, and tomorrow —or, rather, today —is Christmas Day."

  "Christmas! Goodness, I'd nearly forgotten."

  He fetched another towel and wrapped it around his waist, then returned to help her dry off thoroughly before drying himself. Amazingly, her hair was barely damp, which he considered a mercy. She'd be that much less likely to catch a chill.

  Quickly, efficiently, giving himself no time to savor the touch of her body, he helped her into her shift, stockings, corset and gown. Not until she was fully clothed and tying up her shoes did he begin dressing himself.

  He kept glancing at her as he fastened his breeches and buckled his shoes, alert for any more signs that he had overtaxed her strength. Guilt assailed him. What if he had caused her so
me lasting harm, simply to sate his own desires? Looking up, she caught his eyes upon her.

  "I'm perfectly all right. Don't you believe me?"

  "I believe that you believe it," he hedged. "As your husband, it's my responsibility—"

  She turned to face him fully, her expression exasperated. "Honestly, Thor, I'm twenty-five years old, not a child, and I'm as healthy as a horse. Half an hour in comfortably cool water is not going to injure me in any way."

  "Perhaps not, but I'd prefer not to take any unnecessary risks." Was he being overprotective? Almost from the moment he'd met her, she had brought out his protective instincts, but now that he'd made her truly his, they seemed to have increased ten-fold. "Come, let's go up to bed."

  He draped the wet towels over the rack set up for that purpose, picked up the candle and went to unlock the doors, trying to decide whether making love with Dina in the pool had really been the perfect solution he'd first thought it.

  As they approached the center of the house, he could hear the faint hum of voices still emanating from the direction of the ballroom, though the musicians seemed to have stopped playing. No doubt the last of the guests were saying their goodbyes and calling for their carriages.

  To lessen the chance that they might encounter anyone, he again headed for the back stairs. Dina walked at his side, silent, making him wonder what she was thinking. Was she beginning to have regrets for what they had done? At least she had stopped shivering, he noted with relief.

  Not until they again stood outside their chamber doors did she speak. "Will you join me in my room, or would you like me to sleep in yours?"

  He frowned, startled. "I'm not sure either would be wise." In a bed, he could not so easily avoid hurting her, and he had no illusions that he would be able to resist her charms. Not now.

  She looked confused. "But now that we— That is— We don't need the pool for our enjoyment, surely?"

  "I think it safest," he replied, trying to blot out the enticing image of her in his bed, sleeping with his body against her, feeling—

  "Safest. For me, do you mean?"

  He nodded. "Once the weather is warmer, you will be less likely to become chilled." He wouldn't risk her health any more than he would risk injuring her.