‘Not sure of?’ he repeated with deep intensity. ‘Oh, Mel, I’ve been trying to tell myself I haven’t fallen in love with you since…since the day of the funeral. I couldn’t believe it could happen like that for me but it did. Sweetheart,’ his eyes searched hers, ‘are you sure?’
She sniffed. ‘You know me. I don’t change my mind.’
‘Then are you very sure you’re not in any way injured or further injured?’ he asked gravely.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Because I desperately need to do this.’ He lay down beside her and took her in his arms. ‘I love you. I’ve been going crazy these last weeks!’
Mel breathed ecstatically and ran her fingertips down his face then she stilled and looked stern. ‘You hid it well!’
‘Think so? I seem to remember calling you a bloody fool and accusing you of being like every other woman on the planet, whereas one of the things I love about you is that you’re not like any other woman I know.’
‘You said…you said something like that to me once before,’ she marvelled. ‘I didn’t know what to make of it at the time.’
‘Did I?’ He stroked her hair.
‘Yes. When you asked me to marry you, I said something about most girls jumping at the chance but I wasn’t most girls. You said you wouldn’t be asking me if I were.’
‘Do you believe me now?’
She snuggled up against him. ‘I feel as if I’ve come home.’
He started to kiss her.
Until she said huskily, as she quivered finely all over at what his hands and mouth were doing to her, ‘Etienne, what are we going to do? It’s another five weeks before the cast comes off.’
He lifted his head. ‘Do you trust me, Mel?’
‘After what you did for me when I broke my leg, I’d trust you with my life but—’
‘It can be done.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You said—’
‘It’s what I tried to tell myself.’ He grimaced. ‘But I actually got medical advice that, with great care, of course, it’s now possible.’
‘You did that? Why? I mean, if you weren’t planning to make love to me—’
‘I wasn’t sure I could trust myself.’
She laughed softly.
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘That appeals to you?’
‘I don’t know why but it does!’
‘So you’re not as prim and proper as you gave me to understand?’ he queried, his eyes alight with devilry.
‘It seems—not in relation to you, Etienne,’ she agreed gravely. ‘I have had,’ she stopped and blushed, ‘well, some astonishing fantasies about you.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Uh—one day, maybe.’
‘At least give me an idea of how you’d like me to begin.’
She thought for a bit. ‘By taking my clothes off?’
‘Ah.’ He sat up. ‘That’s actually a basic requirement in these circumstances. Moreover,’ he glinted a wicked look into her eyes, ‘this damn keyhole in your blouse has been driving me mad.’
Mel sat up and squinted down at her blouse. ‘You know, I was hoping it might.’
He looked comically put out. ‘Does that mean you plan to make a habit of tantalising the life out of me?’
‘I might.’
‘I have to tell you,’ he said sternly, ‘I love the sound of that.’ He drew her into his arms and started to kiss her again.
Then, item by item, he started to undress her and himself. He took his jacket and elephant tie off and turned his attention to the offending blouse. It came off, then his shirt, and, with exquisite attention to detail, he caressed every inch of her upper body before he released her bra and consigned it to the floor.
‘Nice?’ he asked as he cupped her breasts and touched her nipples.
Mel was breathing slowly and deeply, visibly affected, and she slipped her hands around his neck so their foreheads were touching. ‘Perfect,’ she murmured. She took her hands from his neck and covered his hands over her breasts. ‘I wondered, quite recently, what it would be like if you kissed them.’
‘Let’s find out.’
She tilted her head back but it was her throat he kissed and her shoulders while he stroked the soft skin down her sides. But each butterfly kiss was a prelude to almost unbearable pleasure as her nipples peaked in anticipation of what he would do to them.
She gasped and writhed beneath his hands as the moment came. ‘That’s…I can’t tell you…’
‘And I can’t tell you what it’s doing to me,’ he growled. ‘Permission to proceed?’
‘Yes, oh, yes!’
They shed the rest of their clothes without taking their eyes off each other and with frequent interruptions for touching, experimenting, tasting…
So that losing her virginity came to Mel as the most natural, wonderful thing in the world beneath his guidance and his care not to hurt her despite his obvious need of her. It came like a bel canto experience of exquisite purity and artistry that took her breath away and left her so much more in love with Etienne Hurst, she was unable to speak or move for an age.
‘How did that affect your broken leg?’ he said at last, cradling her to him as if he’d never let her go.
‘What broken leg?’ she said dreamily.
He grinned. ‘Good.’
‘I love you.’ She moved her cheek against his shoulder. ‘I thought I did before but now it’s worse.’
‘Worse?’
‘Yes,’ she assured him and moved as one of her earrings dug into her neck. ‘Oh! I forgot to take my precious elephants off!’
‘The bride wore her earrings and a plaster cast,’ he teased, running his hand down her body.
She looked into his eyes then said humorously, ‘You may not know this but I made a pact with myself to be an unconventional bride.’
‘Darling, my darling Mel,’ he said, and sobered suddenly, ‘I love every unconventional inch of you. But if that pact was made because of the injustices I did you, am I forgiven?’
‘So long as you never go away from me again.’
‘I won’t,’ he promised. ‘But you haven’t told me why it’s worse now?’
‘Oh,’ she ran her fingers through his hair, ‘what I meant was that it’s even more serious. You’re not only the hero of my dreams and fantasies, and they were quite something, but you’re also the hero of my reality now.’
‘Quite something,’ he repeated. ‘Listen, before I die of curiosity, I think you’d better tell me about these fantasies.’
‘Not all at once.’
‘Pick one, then,’ he suggested.
‘Well,’ she sat up, ‘you may not recall her but there was a girl in a filmy, silvery dress who floated over a lawn towards you one day—’
‘A girl with chestnut hair and deep blue eyes?’ he queried.
‘Yes. She also had a cheetah cub with a jewelled collar—sapphires, rubies and emeralds.’
His eyes widened. ‘Not a Jack Russell puppy?’
‘No,’ Mel said gravely. ‘Definitely not. There was absolutely nothing mundane about this girl. She wasn’t intimidated, she wasn’t unsure of herself, she was a free spirit entirely.’
‘So—what did she do?’
‘She took your hand, she pulled you down to the grass, and I have to tell you, Etienne, you have no idea how close you came to being—ravished.’
‘Ravished?’ He sat up beside her.
She looked at him gravely. ‘I hope you don’t disapprove?’
‘On the contrary—would this have been the day you agreed to marry me by any chance?’
She nodded then started to laugh. ‘Don’t ask me where she came from and why she needed to have a cheetah cub—’
‘I won’t.’ He pulled her into his arms and lay back with her. ‘I’ll concentrate on the “being ravished” bit.’ He drew his hand down the curve of her breast and the flare of her hip.
‘Those details are a little hazy,’ she revealed, as a tremor of
desire ran through her.
‘Maybe I can help there?’ He smiled lazily.
‘Oh?’
‘Mmm… Close your eyes.’
She did so and his hands moved on her in a way that caused her heart rate to triple until she murmured unsteadily with her eyes still shut. ‘Just who…is ravishing whom?’
‘If I’m ravishing you,’ he said, ‘it’s only because I’m utterly ravished at the prospect of spending the rest of my life married to you—and all the other versions of you.’
Her lashes flew up. ‘Wait until you hear about the naked wood nymph and the concubine.’
He groaned. ‘I mightn’t survive!’
But she assured him he would, and when they stopped laughing, some wonderful, mutual ravishment took place.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7734-6
THE UNCONVENTIONAL BRIDE
First North American Publication 2003.
Copyright © 2003 by Lindsay Armstrong.
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