by Jane Feather
“You will manage. The truth of what I am will repulse you in time.”
“Look at me, Faro. The truth you want is in my eyes.” He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. “If a long courtship is what it will take to convince you that I am not the same sort of man as your father, then I will court you for however long you desire. Name the test to prove my devotion. Name a dozen tests if you wish.”
He cupped her face in one hand and took heart when she rubbed her cheek against his open palm. The movement was so slight that she probably wasn’t even aware of her reaction.
“I know what it feels like to be torn by doubts,” he said, “to need proof before you can overcome those doubts. We are alike in that way, skeptics to the end. Perhaps that is part of what draws me to you. I will never try to change what you are, but I will do whatever it takes to change your mind about me.” He brushed his thumb over the hollow of her cheek, marveling at its softness. His voice became a husky whisper. “Will you tell me what I can do to banish your doubts?”
“There is nothing,” she answered, her words just as quiet. Her eyes shimmered, then one crystal tear rolled down her cheek. “You want my heart, and I cannot live without it when you leave me.”
“I have your heart already, Faro.” He caught her tear on the tips of his fingers, then pressed the trace of dampness to the center of his chest. “Just as you have mine.”
Tears turned her eyes to liquid blue. Wyatt knew he could drown there. She took one unsteady breath, then another, then the next gasp turned into a broken sob. He sat next to her on the bed and held out his hands, silently offering the comfort of his arms. She went to them willingly.
“Hush, love. I am here now. I will always be here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into her hand, feeling helpless. She didn’t believe him, and that meant she didn’t trust him. His tone turned desperate. “Stay with me, Faro. You can do readings every day, if you wish. Or, turn your attention to painting, if you would rather. You could be happy here.” He stroked her hair while she struggled for control. “Have a little faith in me, Faro. Your heart is safe in my keeping. Let me love you.”
She laid her cheek against his shoulder and her hand went to his chest, where she began to draw small, random circles around one of his shirt buttons. “You know the right words to weaken me, to tempt me toward what will only hurt us both.”
“You view me as your adversary?”
“No. You are my fate, Wyatt.”
She looked awfully grim about it. He tried to reassure her. “The fates will be kind to us. There are too many signs that we were meant to be together.” That made no noticeable difference in her expression. He thought about a more obvious sign and chose his words carefully. “I saw your sketches, the picture of your vision when you read the bottle. Is that part of your fear, turning that vision into a reality?”
She lifted her hand to his face and stroked her fingertips over the rough surface of his cheek. “That is what I fear least.”
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, nothing spoken, yet a wealth of meaning passed between them. Some things could be denied. Others, like fate and destiny, were inevitable.
Wyatt brought his mouth down to hers, slowly, sweetly, savoring the taste of her on his lips. The sweetness lasted no more than a moment, until she returned his kiss with a passion that made his body strain against the need to hold on to his precious control. She opened her mouth and the kiss turned carnal. The hours he had spent dreaming of this moment paled to insignificance until only his longing for her remained a clear memory. The erotic mating of their tongues made his senses reel.
He wouldn’t stop this time. He knew that, even as his hand smoothed a course down her neck and beyond. His lips followed, and he kissed her neck and shoulders. She smelled of orange blossoms everywhere. “Do you want me, Faro?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she began to nuzzle his neck. Her fingers worked at a button, then her hand slipped inside his shirt. Such an innocent touch, her hand pressed against the bare skin of his chest. He couldn’t recall another caress more provocative. He lowered his head for another taste of her, even as he told himself to be gentle.
He eased her down onto the pillows, his mouth never leaving hers. He memorized the lines of her body with his hands. There were times when his explorations became too intimate, but she made no objection. Nor could he feel any stiffening in her body that would indicate resistance. She was probably too busy unbuttoning his shirt to notice. The way her hands fluttered over his bare chest drove him mad.
“I can take no more, sweetheart.” He braced himself on his elbows above her. “Say that you want me, or tell me to leave.”
She tried to pull his head down for another kiss, but he shook his head.
“I want to hear the words, Faro. I need to hear the words.” The sadness in her eyes said he expected too much too soon. “You know that I will always take care of you.”
“I do not doubt your sincerity.” She smoothed her hands over the muscles of his chest, exploring the planes and contours. “Make love to me, Wyatt.”
They were the words he wanted most to hear. Why did they set off a warning in his mind? He decided there would be time to reason that out later. The words were enough for now, especially when her hands seemed so determined to make him crazed.
First she rubbed his chest with the pads of her fingers, a long stroke upward. Then she curled her fingers to let her nails rake a path downward. Over and over. He wanted to grab her wrists to stop the agonizing pleasure. He stared at her hands in helpless fascination. At last she lingered at his waistband to trace the line between the fabric and the taut skin of his stomach. He didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment that made his breath come out in a rush when she finally stopped.
“Did that hurt?” She looked concerned, but he managed to shake his head. The tips of her fingers began another upward stroke. “Should I do it again?” He shook his head harder. Despite his words, he shrugged off his shirt and jacket, then lay down again beside her. He started to push a lock of hair over her shoulder, then stopped to rub the silky stuff between his fingers. “I want you to touch me, love. But there are times when your touch feels too good. Too tempting. You take my control from me.”
“There are times when I think you are too controlling, Wyatt.” Her brows drew together in a small frown. “Life is not always exactly as you wish it.”
“Tonight will be.” He gave her a taste of what he planned by placing measured kisses along the line of her jaw, then her cheekbones, over her forehead, down the tip of her nose. He teased her mouth with small kisses at the corners until her lips parted. The tiny trail of kisses across her lower lip made her breathing sound more and more uneven. He rubbed his thumb over her lip to seal his kisses there.
“You see? There is pleasure in control.” He traced a line across her chest that followed the neckline of her nightgown, then lower to explore the curve of one breast. Her nipple became a hard bud beneath the smooth material. He teased her deliberately by drawing ever-closing circles around the peak with the tip of his finger. The small, inarticulate sounds she made delighted him. “My intent is to hold fast to my control until I make you lose your own. That is the only way I can be certain to sate all your desires before I sate my own. I want to give you pleasure so intense that you will scream when I release you from it.”
“I will not sc—” Her eyes grew round and wide when his head moved toward her chest. His tongue revealed the dusky perfection of her nipple through pale, wet fabric. “Ohhh!”
He drew the succulent bud between his teeth and she moaned, long and loud. Her hands tangled in his hair to pull him away one moment, then hold him closer the next. He wedged his knee between her legs and she curled her hips forward to press herself intimately to his thigh. The moan he heard then was his own.
He stroked the nightgown from her body with caresses that ranged from innocent to sensual, all while he ruined th
e fabric with his mouth. His fingers skimmed over her knee, where he took a handful of the skirt and dragged it slowly upward, aware of every inch of material that passed between their sensitized skin. She lifted her arms to let him pull the garment over her head and he caught her wrists before she could lower her arms again. He leaned back to look at her.
Viewing the perfection of her body was an experience to linger over, to allow the images to imprint themselves on his mind. First came her face, her kiss-swollen lips, the cloudy haze of passion in her beautiful eyes. Her hair tumbled across the pillows in rich waves the color of roasted chestnuts, a vivid contrast to the pale white of her neck and shoulders. Her skin reminded him of finely powdered sugar against the cream-colored sheets. Perhaps this room was a confectioner’s shop, after all.
He started to smile at the thought, even as his gaze drifted to her breasts, to sweet, snowy mounds crested with luscious raspberries. He wet his lips. The slender lines of her waist drew his eye to the curve of her hips, then the dark triangle that covered another small mound. Chocolate came instantly to mind and his mouth began to water. A hint of alarm made him look quickly at her legs, the long, shapely curves the same he could make with his tongue on a stick of hard candy if he ever decided to do it. His eyes traveled a slow path upward again, and thoughts of every sweet confection in existence filled his head.
She pulled her hands from his limp grasp and did her best to shield herself from the intimate perusal. “What is wrong?”
“Wrong?” He focused unsteadily on her face. The worry he saw there was enough to register in his senses, but not enough to shake him from his daze. “I want to eat you whole.”
She looked uncertain for a moment, then she gave him a shy smile. “I think I shall insist on nothing more than small nibbles.”
“Nibbles,” he repeated dumbly. The word alone made the ache in his groin turn painful.
“Your skin feels so hard, yet so smooth.” She reached up to run her hand over his chest and stomach. Her voice dropped to a confessional whisper. “I want to taste you, too.”
“My God.” He rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut. That only made images of her tasting him leap instantly to life. He tried to concentrate on long, deep breaths, without much success.
“Wyatt?”
“Give me a minute. Or two.” He said a quick, silent prayer that she would not pick this moment to act out her wishes. A slight stir of her fingers against his chest and his hand locked around her wrist. He laced his fingers through hers, then held both their hands to his forehead.
“I was a fool to think I could maintain any degree of control with you.” He opened his eyes and found her face almost directly above his. “I don’t want to hurt you, Faro.”
She leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You could never hurt me.”
Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. The tips of her breasts raked against his chest and shoulder, branding him as surely as the scar he bore. Her attention turned to his shoulder and she pressed her lips to the marred skin, more compelling proof that she could read his thoughts.
“You are a man familiar with pain, and I suspect you know how to inflict it. Yet I feel the care you take when you touch me, the gentleness inside you.” Her lips moved to the center of his chest and her tongue darted out to take a small, quick taste of him. “When you hold me, I feel cherished.”
The sensual kiss didn’t turn him into a mindless animal as he had feared. Instead her words had an oddly calming effect on him. The demands of his body faded before the sudden need to fill the void he sensed in her. Had anyone in her life really cherished her?
His arms went around her again and his hand traveled the length of her back. He slowed the caress to explore the indentation of her waist and the enticing curve of her hip. “It seems I have always dreamed of holding you this way, your bare skin pressed to mine. You are so warm, so soft. My skin burns wherever you touch me. Yours must be on fire.”
Her brows tilted in silent question.
“When is the last time anyone touched you?” he asked. “I know your father ignored you, but what about your mother? Was she the last to hug you, the last to bestow an affectionate kiss?”
Faro lowered her lashes and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Mother did not touch us often. She said it gave her headaches.”
He stared at her in mute shock, but his expression was enough to set her on the defensive.
“Hazard and I never doubted her love. We were her only compensation for the great mistake she made when she married our father.”
Wyatt couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. The full realization of what he was up against finally struck him. How could Faro conceive the thought of a lasting love when no one had ever truly loved her? Except, perhaps, her brother, although Wyatt would lay any odds that Hazard knew as little about love as his sister.
There wasn’t any doubt in his mind about her virginity, yet there would be much more to this night than its loss. He would be her first lover in every possible context of the words. The responsibility overwhelmed him. Even so, fate bestowed him with this gift for a reason. As far as he could tell, he was the only person in her life who would not fail her.
He laced his fingers through her hair and made the most solemn vow of his life. “The children I give you will be the proof of our love, Faro, and one of the greatest rewards of our marriage.”
“I cannot—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing the objection. “I suspect there is nothing in this world you could not do, if you set your mind to it. We shall have a fine argument on the subject in the morning.” His fingertips brushed downward, then his hand closed over one soft breast to give her an intimate caress. “You are naked in my arms, love. There is little else I can concentrate upon at the moment.”
She gave him a skeptical look, its impact diminished by the small gasps she made as he caressed her.
“Tonight should be perfect for both of us,” he went on. “I can feel the desire in you. Give yourself over to it just this once, without hesitation, without fear of what tomorrow will bring.” He captured her lips for a long, sensual kiss. When it ended, the light of passion burned brightly in her eyes. “You deserve to be greedy, Faro. Take all the pleasure I can give you. Demand it.”
The words seemed to set something free inside her, as if he had just lifted a dark shroud from her shoulders. The shadow of fear that never left her gaze disappeared. For this one night, she would be his. “I love you, Faro.”
“I…” She gave him a helpless look.
“It’s all right,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “I will never be far away when you are ready to tell me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then continued to speak around the kisses he rained across her face. “Tonight just let yourself enjoy my love. Wrap yourself in it. I promise to set you free in the morning.”
He reached her lips and sealed his vow. The kiss was the sweetest he had ever known. Their hands started to explore each other as reverently as their mouths. Faro gave herself over to his lovemaking with abandon, hiding nothing in her response to his increasingly erotic caresses. Encouraged, he urged her hand to the waistband of his pants, then lower to let her feel the length of his hard erection. It was a delightful torture, yet he felt relieved when she continued to fondle him after he took his hand away.
“I thought you might fear my body,” he murmured.
Her eyes glowed with a mischievous smile. “You saw a painting of my vision. Surely you noticed we were naked. How do you think I knew about your scar?” Her fingertips traced the mark on his shoulder. “But I saw much more than your scar, my lord. Your modesty is misplaced.”
“You saw all of me?” He arched one brow. “You might have mentioned that sooner.”
“It didn’t occur to me that you might think I would fear you.”
The answer satisfied him, probably more than she knew.
; His hands went to the fastenings of his pants, but she wouldn’t relinquish control of her territory so easily.
“I saw you in my vision, but I did not get to touch you,” she explained. His hands fell to his sides. “You said I should be greedy, even though I have touched you so much already that my fingers tingle. Do yours?”
He simply nodded, beyond explaining that it was a much different part of him that tingled. She sat up and worked the buttons of his pants free from top to bottom, her fingers made clumsy by the unfamiliar fastenings. There were five buttons in all. By the third, he wished there were a hundred. The slow release from the confining fabric and the pressure of her hands at each buttonhole made for intensely seductive foreplay, although Faro seemed unaware of her part in it. He hadn’t adopted the custom of wearing drawers beneath his pants, and she stared at his emerging erection with open fascination. “It looks painful. Does it hurt?”
“Only when you stop to stare at me that way.” Her expression when she glanced at his face was one he would never forget. Wicked innocence. “Are you drawing this out on purpose?”
The corners of her mouth curved upward and she pretended to concentrate on the last fastening. “You seem to enjoy it.”
The simple honesty of her answer was another treasure. No coyness, no artifice he expected to find in other women. She was like no one else he knew, and she would never cease to surprise him. Her transformation from cool reserve to heated seductress made him wonder what lucky star he walked under. Even the dreams that woke him up at night were not this good. Or could this be … A quick pinch to his arm dispelled that moment of panic.