He was sprawled in the chair before the fire, a glass of brandy at his elbow. He looked up at her and he did not smile. Decidedly he was not pleased to see her.
This was a mistake.
The frightened kick of her heart almost sent her straight back through the open door, but some imp of stubbornness drove her on instead.
“You did not come to bid me good-night,” she said. She shut the door, placed the candle carefully on the dresser. “Only this morning you said you would fight for a future for us, yet now you shun me.”
There was a silence so long that for a moment she thought he was not going to answer her. Then his gaze lifted to hers. It was a very bright, glittering blue. She wondered if he was drunk, and her heart skipped a whole beat.
“I am trying,” he growled, “to respect your wishes and not ravish you to within an inch of your life.” His gaze swept over her, insolent, appraising, and she became acutely aware of her bare feet and the tendrils of hair escaping from her long, thick plait.
“It is difficult, however,” he continued, in an even tone, “when you appear in my bedchamber in no more than a transparent nightgown.”
“Oh.” The color burned her cheeks. She felt like a naive fool. “I see.”
“Yes,” he mocked. “And I apologize for finding you so entirely irresistible. It is making my life hell.” He stood up. Lucy took an instinctive step back. That checked him. One dark eyebrow rose. She realized he was not drunk, and the relief swept through her leaving her weak.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll go now.” But she did not move.
He waited, giving her plenty of time to decide while her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. And still she did not move. She could not take her gaze from his face, the expression so hard, carved from granite. It did not frighten her now. She knew that behind that strength lay a tenderness that made her heart ache.
It took him only two strides to cross the space between them and take her in his arms, and when he did she gave a gasp of relief as she pressed closer to him, her arms going around him and straining him closer still.
“Why are you staying?” He spoke softly, against her hair.
“Because we promised to try...” She was shaking. “Because I want to be with you. Because I trust you.”
He held her a little away from him. His eyes were gentle. “I won’t make love to you, Lucy,” he said. “It’s too soon. You are not ready.”
She knew that he was right. She wanted him, but it was not enough to banish the memories that hovered like dark wings about her mind. It was not enough to eradicate the fear. Not yet.
“I know,” she said. A part of her wanted nothing more than for him to ravish her completely, but she did not want to regret it later. “But last night...” She stopped, remembering what he had said about finding her irresistible. She was asking too much of him, testing his control beyond anything that was fair. She might know little of men, but she did know that.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It isn’t fair to you. I didn’t realize.”
He scooped her up then and laid her down on the bed, coming down beside her, pulling her into his arms.
“Damn it all,” he said, his breath tickling her ear, “I’d still rather you stayed with me, fair or not.”
* * *
SO HE WAS a fool. Robert looked down at his wife lying on the bed beside him and knew he was in for another night of frustration and discomfort. Yet it was a small price to pay. Lucy had reached out to him. For the first time she had come to him freely. The realization that she was prepared to entrust herself to him made his heart bound. If it meant that eventually he could drive out the darkness inside her and replace it with light and hope, it had been worth it—even if he expired of thwarted desire in the process. There were no guarantees in life; he knew that better than anyone, but he was determined that Lucy’s life would not be blighted by fear.
He reached out and took the ribbon that tied her plait between his finger and thumb, tugging on the end of it, loosening the bow. He started to unravel the plait, working with concentrated intent, running his fingers through her hair as he had always longed to do. It was as soft and silky as he had imagined, rippling through his hands like burnished fire. The color, the texture, fascinated him.
Lucy lay still, her eyes dark and wide as she watched him. Eventually he consciously gave in to the impulse to lower his head and kiss her, and she shifted on the bed and made a noise of surrender in her throat, as though she had been waiting only for this moment. The touch of her mouth was sweet and hot, branding him. He was already hard, but he held his control in an iron grip and grimly told himself that it was good to discover reserves of restraint he had no idea he possessed.
Leaving her briefly, he divested himself of his jacket, shirt and boots as he had done the previous night. This time when he came back to her, she reached eagerly for him, running her hands over his bare shoulders, his arms and back, exploring him. Robert gritted his teeth and allowed her free rein. Her touch was full of an innocent curiosity that was as tempting as it was beguiling.
“So smooth. So hot.” Her voice was a whisper. Her hand slid across his stomach, just above the band of his trousers, and his cock jumped. He caught her wrist in a tight grip.
“Enough,” he said. “Unless you want to test my honor too far and prove me a liar.”
She blinked, her eyes opening wide. “Oh.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and he almost groaned aloud. Instead he kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth, exploring her deeply, until she was shifting restlessly against the sheets, her hands moving over him in urgent, restless caresses.
He drew back. The shutters were not closed and in the blue of half-light she looked tumbled and tempting and ripe for ravishment. Her eyes were slumberous with passion, her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath the shimmering white of her night rail. Robert took a deep, hard breath to steady himself. These were dangerous games.
He touched her cheek. “How are you, sweetheart?”
She smiled at him and raised a hand to rest it against his bare chest. “I am very well, thank you,” she whispered. “I feel...quite safe.”
God help him. He felt very far from safe. If he felt any more tender and protective toward her, he would be completely undone. He pressed a kiss against the curve of the throat, felt the heat of her skin, tasted the salty sweetness and felt his body surge.
“Do you wish me to stop?” He barely recognized his own voice, it was so rough with repressed desire.
“No.” Her lips curved. “Not if it pleases you to continue.” There was a glint of challenge in her eyes and no fear at all. She was all feminine triumph for his weakness.
“It pleases me,” he ground out. “You please me very much.”
He put a hand to the ribbon that tied her nightgown and pulled it. The neckline gaped. He glimpsed her body beneath, all secret shadows and curves. He ached for it. Slowly, carefully, he traced a line from beneath her chin, dipping into the hollow of her throat and dropping lower and lower to the valley between her breasts. He heard her catch her breath. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin linen of the nightgown. He bent his head, taking one tight peak in his mouth, feeling the material against his teeth as he bit down very gently on her nipple. Lucy’s gasp of shocked pleasure was all the reward he needed; once again he felt like a god. She arched up from the bed, her body open to him, begging for more.
“Oh...” She sounded shaken. “Oh please...don’t stop.”
Robert pulled down the nightgown so that she was bare to the waist. The candle was burning down now and the shadows had sunk deep and the room was gray and black. Lucy looked pale and ethereal in the half-light. Robert wanted to see her, but he did not dare break the mood to relight the candle. Instead he stroked her shoulders lightly, reverently, his caresses leading back by slow degrees to the voluptuous swell of her breasts. He stroked upward from her ribs, following the underside of her breasts to t
heir tip, his touch feathering the nipple. She groaned, her breath coming in quick pants. He repeated the caress, again and again, feeling her tighten beneath the tips of his fingers, gentle yet certain, driving her to fulfill a need she had not yet recognized.
When his lips traced the same pattern over her ribs to the tips of her breasts, she once again cried out, rising from the bed, her body silently begging for more. He gave it to her, little nips and sucks and bites that had her squirming, forgetful of her fears, lost beneath his touch. She tasted of hot skin and roses and sweet arousal, and he was so hard he wanted to bury himself in her. But he did not forget this was only the beginning. It would take only the slightest misstep to awaken her to her fears again.
Her fingers dug into the sheet as his lips dropped from her breasts to stroke the curve of her stomach and his tongue flicked wickedly into her belly button. The nightgown was wrapped about her thighs, knotted from the frantic writhing of her body. He wondered if she was aware that she had parted her thighs in instinctive invitation. She lay panting on the tangled sheets, her eyes tight shut and a small frown furrowing her brow.
“I want...” Her voice was slurred as though she were drunk, as though what she wanted eluded any words she knew.
Robert slid one hand over her leg, his palm firm against the soft skin of her inner thigh. She shook uncontrollably, raising her hips in mute plea.
He leaned forward, kissing the hot damp skin of her neck where the tendrils of hair clung. His lips brushed the curve of her ear.
“You want surcease.” Between them there was not going to be any false modesty or inhibition. If she were to trust him, it would have to be openly and honestly, with no pretense, admitting to her needs and pleasures. He could not lay the ghosts of the past to rest any other way.
She opened her eyes at the words, but in the same moment he parted her, finding the swollen nub at the very core of her. He watched; her expression changed, her eyes widening, her lips opening as she felt his touch on her. Something hot shimmered in her eyes, hot and disbelieving, almost accusatory as though she could not believe how he made her feel.
He flicked her tight little nub once, twice, in a smooth stroke, and she came immediately, helplessly, on a scream, her body jolting with the force of it. He stroked her again and saw the pleasure catch her a second time, more fiercely than the first. The shock and disbelief in her eyes dissolved into sheer sensual delight and her body slumped, her eyes closing, and she lay boneless and gasping, sheened in sweat.
After a moment he lit the candle, then pulled the remnants of the innocent-looking white nightgown from her and cast them aside, drawing her into his arms, where she lay without protest. Her breasts still rose and fell rapidly against his chest, which was a particular torment, but one he felt he could bear if the result was witnessing such pleasure in her. For there was no doubt he had taken her to the very edge of bliss and he had taken such enjoyment in watching her learn what it felt like. He had had no idea that simply giving her pleasure would make him feel so frightfully pleased with himself. It was a startling discovery.
“What on earth did you do to me?” She sounded exhausted but recognizably like Lucy again. Her eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes were like dark stars, heavy with satiation.
“I showed you how good your body can make you feel,” Robert said. He suspected that Lucy associated the physical body only with pain and danger. Her experience had colored everything for her and now it was his turn to show her that the physical, the sensual, could bring pleasure beyond belief.
A slow smile curved the corner of her mouth. “So you did. I had no notion.”
Robert kissed her. Her response was different this time, open and accepting, weighted by the knowledge of pleasure. He plunged his tongue deep in her mouth, allowing his desires full rein, mimicking the movement he wanted for his body by plundering her mouth instead. She groaned deep in her throat and opened wider to him and suddenly he was within an ace of spilling his seed in his breeches, which he had not done since he was sixteen years old.
He rolled away, cursing his lack of control. They had only been married for two nights and there was not a chance in hell that he would risk frightening Lucy by exposing her to his needs. That would have to wait. She might look like a wanton angel, but she would turn back into a frightened virgin swiftly enough if he rushed his fences.
She was still lying sprawled on the bed in slumberous abandon, her hair ruffled, her eyes half-open, watching him. The candlelight gilded her skin, picking out the freckles scattered over her shoulders. She looked delectable, soft, rounded, ravished. The hunger in him was like a ravening beast howling for satisfaction. Never had he set himself so hard a task as keeping his hands from her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
There was not a chance in hell that he was going to tell her that he was thinking of making love to her, that he wanted to spread her and take her and seal their bargain by making her his.
“I’m thinking,” he said, “that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to make you cry out your pleasure again.”
She looked shocked by his bluntness, and for a moment he thought he had gone too far. Her trust was so fragile, always balanced against the fear of memory. Yet she also possessed a healthy intellectual curiosity. And she was passionate through and through, and had just started to understand where that passion might take her.
He waited.
Her gaze flickered up to meet his, a little shyly. “Is that possible?” She sounded detached, rational. “I mean, is it possible to experience the same degree of pleasure over and over again—”
“Why don’t we find out?” Robert said politely. He did not move. This was for her to choose, to decide how far she wanted to go.
She stared at him. He could see the pulse beating hard in her throat. Her voice was husky. “You mean you are asking me—”
“If you would like to find out. Yes.”
She bit her lip, looked down. He knew it was hard for her; reality was creeping back now here in the light, as sensual bliss receded. Which was all the more reason to conjure it again. The night was still young. Downstairs the inn taproom was turning rowdy.
“Trust me a little further,” he said. “Indulge your desire to learn.”
She smiled at that. “I confess I have always been keen to learn new things.”
He smiled too. Good. Because if he could not indulge his own pleasure tonight, then driving Lucy to the extremes of carnal lust seemed like a very fair revenge.
* * *
LUCY SAW ROBERT’S smile and wondered why on earth she had agreed. The first time she had had an excuse; she had wanted to build on the intimacy they had already established and show that she was committed to their future. She had wanted to demonstrate her trust in him. That trust had led to such sensual bliss she could not have imagined. Even now, as the tide of it lingered in her body, she was still disbelieving it could have been so good.
And now he was offering to do it all again. Differently. Which would be simple self-indulgence, but oh she wanted to indulge herself. She wanted it quite desperately. And it would be safe because he had promised that tonight was all about her pleasure. She did not have to worry about him bedding her or the dangers of consummation. She could release herself from the hold of the past and live only in the present. Robert had asked her to put herself in his hands, and really it would be an insult to refuse. Oh, she could convince herself that black was white, that silver was gold, tonight.
Yet even so she was anxious. Her heart was battering her ribs, and her tension was growing with each beat.
“Here.” He had strolled across to the table by the window, struck a light for another candle and poured two glasses of wine. He brought them back and handed one to her, clinking his glass softly against hers. “Drink.”
“This requires wine?” Lucy said.
He laughed. “Perhaps. You seem a little tense. The key is to have just enough wine to relax you but not too muc
h to make you insensible.”
“I’ll remember,” Lucy said. She took a gulp, then another, almost emptying her glass. It was a fine wine, smooth as it slipped down her throat. Robert took the glass from her hand and placed it on the dresser. A moment later she tasted wine again on his lips as he kissed her. He was right; her head spun now, deliciously, sensually, and she was not sure if it was the claret or the kiss that made her feel so faint. Warmth tingled down her spine and along her skin.
“Lie down.” His soft instruction had her heart racing. She lay back on the bed, suddenly shy, wanting to shield herself from his gaze, but he spread her arms wide and sat back on his heels looking at her. Now, in the light, there was no hiding. It felt too intimate, but regardless of her old fears she made herself lie still and face it. After a moment the trapped feeling faded away.
“You are beautiful.” He touched her shoulders lightly, slid his hands down her arms, stroked her breasts again with the same gentle gliding caresses he had used earlier. Lucy was starting to recognize the responses of her body now. She had been so satiated that she had thought she could not be reawakened, yet each sly drift of Robert’s hands over her seemed to tighten a cord within her. She remembered how good the massage had felt and how it had made her body beg for more. He could command her response so easily.
Was there anything wrong in that? The little voice at the back of her mind reminded her that he was her husband and that tonight she did not need to be fearful. She did not need to think. She could leave that for another day.
With a sigh of surrender she allowed her body to soften and open, flagrantly exposed to him. She watched him through half-closed lids as he studied her nakedness and was surprised how fiercely she enjoyed that look of acute longing on his face. It made her feel feminine and powerful.
He lifted her, his hands strong on her waist, and kissed her so deeply her head spun. Then he dropped his lips to her breasts and the dark tight spiral of desire quickened in her. Her head fell back. She arched. She could feel his hands spread against the bare skin of her back holding her securely as his mouth plundered her with tugs and licks and kisses. Her dizziness grew, the wicked delicious pulses in her belly beating a demand of their own.
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