by Silver, Lily
His eyes narrowed. Like a wolf he could sense the frailty of her trust. “Lizzie, don’t lie. I will wait for as long as you need me to. I promised you I would, and I intend to keep that promise. Are you certain you want this, tonight?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded so small, so uncertain, and she needed so much to convince him otherwise. “I trust you.”
He frowned. His mouth was set in a firm, grim line, as if he would to dispute her claim.
Oh, Bollocks! Were they going to start arguing again?
“When did that come about?” Donovan said with a roughened voice. “In the last hour?”
He did have a point. This man was not as easily fooled as she would believe.
“Yes, well . . . it’s been coming on slowly, over the past week.”
He gazed at her, intently, searching her eyes for the merest hint of deceit. Elizabeth steeled herself, willing herself not to falter and give away her apprehension. Her heart thundered in her chest. She prayed he could not hear its treacherous drumbeat. She licked her lips, waiting for him to stop staring at her with the intensity of an inquisitor questioning a witch.
Donovan noticed her slight capitulation. He followed her tongue across her lips with his eyes. “You trust me?”
She nodded.
“But you are still afraid, aren’t you.” It was not a question.
“Uncertain, a little uneasy, yes.” She softened the verb, watered it down to be nearly as meaningless as possible. “It’s only to be expected. I am still a maid.”
His lips turned into a wan smile. “You are a courageous lass.”
His finger wound around a stray lock hanging near her ear. He brought it to his lips, kissing the coppery ringlet captured in his finger. “I prefer a lass with a bit of spirit.” He whispered, and brushed a kiss across her lips. It was brief, chaste and oh, so enticing.
Donovan drew back, watching her, smiling a little more as he gauged her reaction. He released her hair, traced a path along her temple and then her chin with his forefinger. “You are a handful.” He chided, his eyes alight.
He leaned close, kissing her once more, tasting her lips briefly, retreating and then returning to linger and tease her lips again and again. It was like a dance. Come forward, embrace, step lightly, and then retreat. Elizabeth was tingling with anticipation.
Each brush of his lips was a little longer, a little more insistent.
She kissed him back, anxious to prove her enthusiasm. She missed this potent, beguiling side of him, missed the precious hours they spent kissing so in his cabin on The Pegasus. It seemed a lifetime ago, a romantic dream that she had began to fear never happened except in her imagination.
But this, no, this was real; this was the Donovan she fell in love with.
Donovan’s light fingers traced the outside of her arm, down and then back up to circle her shoulder. Down to her elbow and then up, up the inside of her arm. She sighed, and leaned into him, welcoming his kiss, his touch.
His tongue traced her lips, teasing, taunting until she opened her mouth to welcome his bold exploration. He’d kissed her like this a few times on the ship, but when he had breached her defenses thus far successfully, he would end their kissing sessions.
Elizabeth wrapped her arm about his neck, hoping to hold him this time, to see where the kiss might lead if allowed to go further than the brief inspection of her mouth by his tongue.
He didn’t pull away. His palm pressed over her breast, cupping her so gently it bordered on reverence. As his fingers moved lightly over her sensitive breast, it brought an answering burst of longing for him low in her belly. The more he caressed her breast, the more she seemed to want him to. Elizabeth could not contain a moan.
The noise startled him. He withdrew his hand and gazed at her with worried eyes. “If you wish me to stop—“
“No—no.” She insisted. She didn’t want him to leave her. This time, she wanted him to follow through and bring them to the end of it, bring her to a sense of . . . fullness, completion? She didn’t know the words, only the need his touch evoked within her; the need to belong to him completely.
“Elizabeth.” He said sternly. “If you need me to stop you’ve only to say so. I swear to you, nothing will happen tonight that you do not wish to.”
She nodded, agreeing with him and placed her hand on his cheek. She leaned in and kissed him. She trusted this man.
“I love you.” He whispered, placing his hand at the back of her head as he drew her in for another breathless kiss. She loved the feeling of being held tight against him and kissed with such passion it seemed their souls were colliding in the quest to become one.
Elizabeth was distantly aware of being guided back against the pillows so she was lying on her back. Donovan was curled on his side next to her. She traced the firm contours of his shoulders, reveling in the rugged power of his masculine form. He was hard, like marble, yet warm and smooth. She encountered the scars on his back, and caressed their ropey contours with devotion. They were not repulsive. The scars forged him into the tender man she loved.
His mouth left hers to trail warm kisses along her neck and then paused at her breast. She exhaled as he kissed the tip and gently took it into his mouth. She rubbed and stroked his rigid bicep, following the ropey contours of his forearm to his hand. He responded by clutching her hand and bringing it to his lips to plant a soft kiss in the center of her palm. “I love you, Lizzie.”
“I love you.” She responded, as the buoyant feeling soared inside her. Yes, she loved this gallant, irritating, beautiful, arrogant man. She wanted to erase the loneliness she sensed in him, absolve the guilt that haunted his soul.
The brush of his fingers along her hip made her squirm with anxiety. Donovan’s face lifted from her breast. He was watching her again, gauging her reaction.
“It tickles.” She told him, smiling to dispel the worry in his eyes. “I’m ticklish.”
“Are you?” His devilish look warned her she’d regret the confession.
His head dipped, he kissed her other breast and blew softly on the nipple after moistening it with his tongue. It was unbelievably exquisite, the warm, moist air of his breath caressing her in a way she couldn’t imagine. Donovan inched up to kiss her mouth, bringing a sweet sense of fulfillment, and at the same moment evoking an intolerable need.
The large, firm hand once more slid purposefully down her hip and along her outer thigh. This time, she didn’t flinch. He caressed her knee with his fingertips, and traced a path along the inside of her thigh. Elizabeth stiffened, preparing for a rough invasion as she recalled the smugglers groping her as they surrounded her that night. Coarse, cruel hands. Male laughter. Pinching fingers caused pain and sought her humiliation as they reveled in her terrified cries.
“Easy love.” Donovan whispered, bringing her back to him again. His hand glided firmly over her hip, back and forth, comforting in its heaviness. “It’s me. Let me caress your delicate lotus petals. Let me give you pleasure. I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”
She was panting. She’d panicked, frozen, fallen into that dark place again—and he knew precisely what was happening to her. He knew. And he was trying to help her past it.
“I’m fine.” She whispered, eyeing him with conviction and praying he would believe her. She didn’t want him to turn back.
“Ah, you’re a fine lass.” He returned in a silken voice. “A fine, courageous lass.”
Elizabeth snuggled closer to him, trying to convey with her body the words she was too timid to speak.
And then she had an idea. “Am I allowed to touch you?” She honestly didn’t know.
He seemed puzzled by her inquiry. “I’m yours. Touch me as you wish, Mrs. Beaumont.”
Elizabeth skimmed light fingers over his abdomen and his hip just as he had caressed her. She caressed his leg, enjoying the firmness beneath her hand, the power in those well muscled thighs she’d admired so often in tight doeskin breeches. She tentatively stroked his taut bu
m, giggling as she did so, feeling naughty. She liked cupping that firm curve.
Donovan grinned at her girlish giggles. He patiently watched her trace his body in a leisurely exploration. The only part of him she avoided was the rigid mound straining to be freed of his breeches. She wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She edged around it and caressed his ribbed abdomen and hard chest. Elizabeth was oddly calmed by the exercise.
Noting the change in her, Donovan leaned low to kiss her with infinite tenderness.
Elizabeth was further bolstered by the gentle caress of his lips, no longer demanding or searching, but sweetly caressing with unstinting devotion.
She wrapped her arms about his neck, inviting him to deepen the kiss. They melted together in a satisfying kiss that seemed to have no end. Donovan’s hand moved along her hip, a soothing gesture of possession and comfort. She leaned against him, wanting to be closer, to understand the heady need each kiss and persistent caress wrought deep within her.
The moment came again; his hand on her inner thigh. This time, the tip of his finger brushed over her delicate folds. Elizabeth started slightly but clung to him instead of retreating from his touch as she willed herself to permit his intimate exploration.
Donovan whispered sweet words to her. He paused with his hand posed at her entrance, waiting for her to accept his intrusion into her feminine flesh. She showed her acceptance of his intent by kissing his neck, leaving soft, moist trails of devotion along his sun kissed skin.
His physician’s hands were gentle as they explored her sensitive flesh. Elizabeth never imagined a man’s caress could be so tender or so clever as to bring shudders of unbelievable delight as her body responded in a way her mind could not comprehend. She sagged against the pillows, surrendering to his bold caress and to the astonishing sensations he awakened in her untried body.
She felt buoyed up on a breeze, lost in the wondrous feeling of pure, unexpected bliss.
Yet, beneath the pleasure a savage need was growing inside her, a need for more.
He slid a finger inside her moist channel. And then she knew. Elizabeth understood. What she yearned for so urgently was Donovan. His intimate touch had awakened a primitive desire to take him inside of her. She’d been so concerned about meeting his needs, doing her duty by giving him the pleasure of her body she failed to consider there could be pleasure in surrender.
He withdrew his finger, but before she could offer protest at the loss, that light forefinger returned to a sensitive place within her slick lotus petals, as he’d dubbed her womanly flesh. The exquisite sensation made her writhe and gasp beneath his finger as she was lifted into another plateau of raw, unexpected yet wondrously sensual delight.
Elizabeth gasped and shuddered as pure waves of undulating pleasure washed over her again and again to crest at last with an explosive power that ultimately overwhelmed her.
She lay quietly, her eyes closed, just breathing for several seconds as she slowly floated back to the solid earth.
As she opened her eyes Donovan was watching her with a pleased smile.
She knew what he was thinking. She would not allow it. He was going to say that this was enough for one night. Before he could say it, she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his inexpressibles. “Take them off. Before I get cold feet and change my mind.” Even as she said it, her teeth were chattering. Not from cold. She was still recovering from the explosion of pleasure he’d wrought in her. Elizabeth tugged at his manhood, no longer feeling craven about it. She grasped him beneath the fabric, demanding him to emerge to fulfill the bargain begun.
Donovan peeled the fabric back, freeing himself from his bonds. Elizabeth swallowed, a moan rising in her throat. Seeing that rigid male organ displayed in full battle array, poised to invade her tender flesh was nearly her undoing. Donovan’s big hand lifted her chin, averting her eyes from the display of potent male power and guiding her to gaze at his face. He moved and settled himself between her legs, hovering over her, his weight on his forearms, waiting.
“Are you certain?” It pained her that he still felt he needed to ask.
“Yes. I trust you, Donovan.”
“It will hurt a little the first time, only for a moment.”
Elizabeth nodded. She knew that. She placed her arms about his waist, urging him to drop down to put his full weight on her instead of hovering above her. She wanted it over with, plain and simple. She wanted to belong to him in every way.
He lowered himself and she felt the inflexible granite spear poised at her entrance. He was big, so big. She took a breath, steeling herself for the expected pain.
Donovan kissed her, leisurely, tenderly. She closed her eyes, and focused on that kiss.
With one quick thrust, he was inside of her.
Oh, God! Elizabeth moaned and buried her face in his shoulder. She wanted to scream, but quelled the urge as that would surely upset him. It felt like she was being impaled.
“Breathe, just breathe, and relax. You’ll stretch and relax around me and then it won’t hurt.” He held perfectly still inside her, waiting for her to ‘relax’ as he said.
Relax? How does one do that with a pike shoved inside them?
She gasped, several times, trying to overcome the panic at being so wholly possessed. It took more than a second. It took more than a minute. Gradually, she felt her pierced flesh relax around his imposing shaft. As he promised, it stopped hurting so much. She felt very full, as if her flesh were stretched too tight having him there . . . and then it started to feel sort of nice.
Sensing the change as her body slowly accepted him, Donovan began to move. He withdrew slowly, almost completely. And then he gracefully glided inside her again, filling her with himself.
The idea of Donovan being inside of her brought a curious feeling of awe and exaltation.
It was an unrivaled, inexpressible sensation to be stroked by him--from within.
Intimacy. She understood the mystery of that word now, and the inherent delight behind the term. Elizabeth hugged him and kissed his neck. He arched his shoulders up, his face seeking her lips, and then kissed her with an intensity that was delightfully overwhelming. Donovan captured her mouth and at the same time glided deep inside of her. After several such earthy thrusts, she instinctively lifted her hips, arching in an attempt to match his sensual movements. It was like a dance. He was being so careful, so gentle. She sensed his restraint and she loved him for it. It was still a little uncomfortable, but the pain was giving way to a more urgent rising pleasure.
He stopped kissing her so deeply, as his breathing made it difficult to keep their lips joined. His muted moans told her he was nearing his own explosion. As she concentrated wholly upon Donovan, on meeting his thrusts and giving him the pleasure of her body, a sudden onslaught of unexpected desire moved through Elizabeth. She was swept up with him on a crest of intense pleasure more forceful than the timid shivers she experienced during his earlier love play.
Donovan’s body stiffened. She felt him shudder and heard his gasp of completion echoing her own. He remained still, hugging her as their skin sealed together in moist delight.
Pulling back slightly, he gazed into her eyes for a moment, and then kissed her. So gently, so sweetly, it made her toes curl. When his delicious kiss ended, he murmured, “It will get better for you, my sweet girl, I promise.”
Better? Elizabeth thought, with a purr of pleasure. Aside from the pain at his entry, she couldn’t imagine this becoming any sweeter than it had been just now.
*******
She is exquisite. Aphrodite. His own sweet Venus, lying naked in his arms.
Donovan was lying on his side, watching his sleeping bride. Her face was tilted toward him on the pillow. Her hair fanned out in vibrant waves of silky copper like a halo circling the head of an icon. Damn. What else could he say?
Blushing innocence beguiled the rogue. It sounded like a bad line from a romantic poem.
How many hours had he spent planning her sedu
ction? How many nights had he lain awake imagining all the ways he wanted to make love to her? And all the arguments he thought to use to convince her he could be trusted to guide her past her fear of intimacy.
Donovan had been determined it was not going to happen.
And then . . . Lizzie happened. She seduced him.
Chapter Thirty Four
As soon as Elizabeth finished breakfast Donovan insisted she get dressed.
He kept pushing her as she dallied over her wardrobe. He was insensitive to the fact that she was deliberating over her appearance on the occasion of being allowed to go downstairs again after a week of bed rest.
She lingered over a generous selection of dresses he’d provided as part of her trousseau, a thoughtful gesture on his part when they married as her family would never have been able to see her turned out properly as a countess. There were many beautiful silk evening gowns, and several light, elegant day dresses of muslin. All of them were in the newer Empire fashion, with high waistlines that came just beneath her bust and with full, billowing skirts. The heavier silks were more appropriate for special occasions like balls and formal dinners, but Elizabeth couldn’t help admiring the rainbow of jeweled hues lining her wardrobe.
“Come now, it’s been half an hour with you mooning over the contents of that closet.” Donovan stood behind her. “Pick one or I’ll be forced to conclude you enjoy your confinement and carry you back to bed for more lovemaking.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Truly, sir, I would not mind the delay as much as you appear to.”
“Don’t temp me.” He muttered. “Come, now I have everything arranged just so.”
She narrowed the choices to two. The sprigged muslin with indigo stripes or the solid apricot muslin with ivory lace flounces at the sleeves and hem?
“That one.” He made the decision for her, hastily grabbing the apricot gown from its hanger and holding it out for her. “It brings out your coloring to best advantage.”