Abruptly he stepped forward, grasping her wrists. “No. Stop this now.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lydia stilled instantly, shame creeping into her belly. Terrified, embarrassed, devastated, she looked up into Brian’s pale green eyes unsure of what to say or do. She stood ready to give herself to him, begging for his touch, and still he rejected her?
“Let me do it,” he rasped in a voice so husky she hardly recognized it as his own. Brian closed the distance between them, snaking one arm around her middle, drawing her fully against him. Their hips nestled snuggly together and proof of his arousal pressed through the thin fabric of her nightdress. The sensation was exhilarating. His other hand traced the length of her spine along her neck until his fingers buried deep within her hair. Urgently his lips descended taking hers in an exchange of total surrender. His broad hands roamed every curve and swell of her body with abandon, she shivered, whimpering with longing as he reached down to gruffly grasp her buttocks lifting her against him completely.
Lydia slid her palms up the contours of his sculpted chest, linking her arms around his neck, she crushed herself to him, but Brian pulled her back. He began to maneuver the nightdress up her legs to her hips, his hands stroked the bare flesh of her thighs and bottom. The breath froze in her throat as tremors of pure… pleasure exploded within her. Even the storm raging outside the window was no match for what she felt in this moment. He set her on the bed, positioning himself between her parted legs, and in one swift motion pulled the gown over her head.
Her breath hitched. Nervously she stilled, feeling totally vulnerable. Exposed.
Brian’s hands paused on her upper arms, his intense gaze searing the length of her body. “Tá tú go h-álainn,” he murmured, softly pressing his mouth to one corner of her lips and then the other. His tongue lingered against her bottom lip for a long moment before traveling across her jaw and down to the sensitive flesh of her throat.
The musical tones of his native Gaelic swirled through her mind, lulling tremulous nerves until she was mere clay in his hands. “What does that mean?”
“It means ye’re beautiful.” Seductively his lips trailed the slope of her décolletage down to her collarbone then back up to nibble an ear lobe. “So beautiful.”
Her heart melted. She melted into a limpid pool in his hands. A man had never told her she was beautiful and certainly not so romantically. “Oh, Brian… I want you. Please make me yours.” She sagged against his powerful chest, pressing parted lips to his, yielding completely. And in that moment she knew it was over. The waiting. The fighting. The denials. Her heart was lost to him, and though he’d not said it, she knew he felt the same. Every word or touch they’d ever shared could not hold a candle to the raw passion shining at the surface of his eyes tonight. His every caress branded her soul. Without a word he settled her back gently against the cool silken sheets, his toned body stretched along hers, molding to the contours of her smaller frame.
A tremendous clap of thunder rattled the walls, but beneath Brian, locked in his arms, no amount of fear touched Lydia. Instead she was relaxed, completely at ease. Safe. Brian would take care of her. Here… Tonight… Dare she hope forever?
“Lydia, I have dreamed of this moment for so long, in so many ways.” He drew back slightly, locking his gaze with hers, a silent question skimming the surface. “I promise to go slow fer ye, love, but if ye think even for a moment ye’ll regret this…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Never.” Slowly she traced the chiseled lines of his face, along the angle of his jaw to the full curve of his sensual lips. Artful lips. Lips made for kissing and lovemaking. He closed his eyes as though savoring her touch. “Brian?”
“Aye, lass?”
She swallowed, nervously toying with the edge of his collar. “Why am I the only one without clothes on?”
He smiled, the gesture sending slivers of awareness down her spine. “Because ye haven’t undressed me yet.”
“How shall I go about it?” The top button of his shirt lay just beneath her fingertips, slowly she released the catch, letting her knuckles graze the bare skin beneath. He trembled. She trembled. The experience was entirely… sensual. “Perhaps like this?”
A smile rolled across Brian’s lips. “Aye, ye little nymph, I should say that’s one way to go about it. But my heart may stop with the anticipation. I vote we do this the quick and easy way.” In one swift movement he reached behind his head, grasped a handful of the shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it on the floor beside the bed. “There. Done.”
She gaped in fascination at the sight of his naked chest pressed against her own bare torso. Heart hammering with the knowledge she was about to do something against every moral and belief she’d been raised to, Lydia reconciled with the deeper understanding that nothing had ever felt so right. The act of love could never be wrong if true to her heart.
Gently her fingers trailed the bandage binding his ribs. “What of your ribs, Brian? Will this hurt you?”
“Not near as much as it would hurt not to have ye here and now, love.” With a tenderness bordering reverence he took her mouth, the kiss soft and smoldering and more gentle than a man his size had a right to be. Slowly his hands moved, the touch tender at first, tickling and teasing, pulling her into a haze of arousal. His fingers slid down her body, his lips close behind. Shudders of excitement raced through her.
Brian paused, curling a palm around her breast. Mesmerized Lydia gazed on as he smoothed a thumb across her taut nipple. She gasped.
“Do ye like that?” He flashed a wicked grin. “Then what about this?” His mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh.
“Oh!” Pleasures so golden they must be forbidden shot through her. Lydia’s fingers curled through his hair, holding his head to her, desperate for the quivers washing over to continue. His head lifted. “No, don’t stop,” she begged.
“Worry not, love, this is only the beginning.” His attention shifted to the other breast, and the sensual torture began all over again.
Lydia lay completely still content to drink in every stroke… each caress… All apprehension faded leaving naught but boiling passions in its wake. “Brian,” she sighed, head lolling to the side.
“Say it again,” he rasped,
“Hmmm?”
He rose up and over her again, the mattress sank beneath his weight. “My name, lass. Say it again.”
“Brian,” she murmured, meeting his fevered gaze.
“Music from an angel’s lips.” He brushed her mouth. “So sweet.”
“Brian.” Tentatively she reached out, brushing her fingertips across the smooth flesh of his chest. Tight cords of muscle leapt beneath her touch, a new excitement trilled inside her. His eyes drifted shut. More boldly she explored his body, running her hands along his arms and shoulders; then down his chest, along his flat abdomen… there she stopped, too nervous to travel lower.
Soon he joined her, their lips and tongues and limbs tangled in fiery mating. Shivers streamed over and through her, in her blood, encompassing her soul. Passions boiled over, and Lydia responded to every touch and caress, eager for more, knowing this could be the only chance to love him fully.
The sudden sad thought pierced her bliss. How did one pull a lifetime of warmth from a single night? She’d begged him to love her, even if only this one time, but could it ever be enough? Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, binding her to him. “Hold me tighter, Brian. Closer.”
One powerful arm circled her waist drawing her completely beneath his hard frame, while the other clasped her hand above their heads. “Close enough love?” he rasped against her lips.
“Closer.” She arched against him, her body asking for what she did not know how to put into words. “I want to feel you. All of you. I don’t know if the nearness I long for is possible.”
“Oh, my Lydia,” he groaned, “it is possible, but only if yer ready. I’ll do nothin’ until ye’re r
eady for it.”
“I am more than ready. Show me.”
Swiftly Brian rolled away from her. Lost in a haze of his warmth she was suddenly cold and alone. Her arms ached to hold him again. He doffed the remainder of his clothes, revealing the whole of his incredible form to her. Rather than deter from his masculine façade the bandage surrounding his ribs made him appear even more rugged. She flushed with heat, embarrassed but unable to tear her gaze from the incarnation of Apollo before her. Suddenly she was desperate to experience the nearness he spoke of.
Without a thought Lydia held her arms out, welcoming him back into her embrace.
Brian moved over her in a primitive movement, capturing her lips in a fevered exchange, simultaneously spreading her legs with his knees and invading the last of her innocence.
Dear God! Lydia jerked upright, but she was trapped beneath Brian. Well, perhaps not God—she would prefer not to think of God at this particular life juncture—but Brian was… inside of her. Completely. Fully. The sensation did not hurt so much as it was shocking, startling unlike anything she’d ever known.
“Stay with me, love,” he whispered in soothing tones. “Stay with me. This gets better, I promise.”
Lydia drew a deep breath and nodded, waiting for her body to adjust. Brian trembled beneath her fingertips. “Are you all right?”
“Aye, love. I am more than all right.” His lips dropped to her neck, suckling the soft flesh while a hand slid along her body, tickling the taught tips of her breasts, re-arousing the magic she’d known just moments before. His hips moved, easing in and out, she moaned as a mist of pleasure rippled out to envelope her every sense and emotion. Soon her skin, her soul… her very being tingled, begging, screaming for his touch. She could not get enough of him, and clutched his strong shoulders, relishing the ragged cadence of their breathing, the pounding of his heart against her chest, and the friction of their bodies, skin on skin.
Vaguely she was aware of the pounding rain outside of her window, the erratic dancing of the shadows in the flash of lightening, and Brian murmuring words of sweet nothing in her ear. It all swirled round and round in her mind, building until she was completely out of control, reaching for a pinnacle. Did Brian feel this as well?
“Grá mo chroí,” he whispered, soft lips tracing the pulse point at her throat as the world around her exploded in a combination of gratification and sheer bliss. Fleetingly she wondered at the meaning of the words, but had no cognizance to ask as she floated upward in a cloud of ecstasy. Moments later Brian collapsed over her looking equally exhausted or perhaps sated.
As the ragged jaunt of his breathing slowed he rolled off of her, pulling her across his chest. In silence they held each other, reveling in what had transpired. For this singular moment Lydia was content simply to lie draped across his side, listening to the thud of his heart and enjoy the caress of his knuckles stroking up and down her arm. Throughout their ordeal and return home she had nurtured the hope he would come to his senses and agree to elope with her. Giving herself to him had been the last ploy in her arsenal to convince him of her love and devotion to him alone. She had no desire to consider that when this night was over she may find herself alone.
A light tapping drifted softly through the room. “Did you hear that?” Lydia murmured, wondering at the location of the sound. The rhythmic sound continued, almost like that of—
“Oh, my god, someone is coming!” Lydia flew to the edge of the bed, scooping her nightdress from the ground. “The door isn’t locked.”
Pure panic lined Brian’s features as he rolled off the bed to find his own clothes. “Do ye think this could be when I get shot, lass?”
“Don’t think that way, Brian. Go wait on the balcony.”
“The balcony?” He stopped to gape at her, one leg stuffed through his trousers, the other comically suspended in the air. “But it’s pourin’ rain, love.”
“Which is why no one suspicious will think to look for you there.” She wiggled into her gown, and did what she could to straighten the tangled bedclothes.
“I could be hit by lightning,” he grumbled. “Why can I not hide in the closet?”
“Because that is the first place someone like my father would look,” she hissed in return, stuffing his shirt beneath the sheets. The rapping on the door grew more insistent. “Now, go.”
At last he complied, ducking through the heavy velvet curtains. “Wait, Brian.” He poked his head back through the balcony drapes. “How do I look?”
He threw her a wicked grin. “As though I’ve just ravished you,” he said and disappeared. The rake.
Horrified Lydia grasped the length of her messy hair and twisted it viciously over one shoulder. It would have to do.
The door creaked open, admitting her stepmother. Lydia was relieved for the dim lighting so Olivia would not notice the flaming hue of her cheeks. Blast her blushing she’d never been able to keep a secret because of it.
“Is everything all right, dear? I thought I heard a commotion a few minutes ago.”
A huge yawn nearly split Lydia’s face as she rubbed her eyes, feigning exhaustion. “I’m sorry if something startled you, but I haven’t heard a thing. The sound of the rain has me sleeping like a baby.”
Olivia gave her a crooked look. “Lydia, you hate storms. You crawled into bed with me until you were twelve years old whenever the sky so much as threatened a thunderstorm.”
“Yes, well, thankfully I’m not twelve anymore.” A crash of thunder exploded overhead, Lydia jumped. “In any case the storm is probably what woke you. That last clap sounded very close.”
“Perhaps…” Olivia appeared thoroughly disbelieving as she drifted slowly around the perimeter of the room, straightening books and knick-knacks along the way. “Do you smell that, dear?”
Nervously Lydia gulped. “The rain, Livy?”
“No not the rain,” Olivia snapped. “I know very well what the rain smells like.” Shrewd eyes raked the length of her, the older woman shuddered. “You look a mess dear and your room smells suspiciously of lovemaking. Has someone been here?”
Lydia gasped at the bald question and hid trembling hands in the folds of her sheets. Nothing ever escaped her stepmother. The woman was entirely too intuitive. “Really, Livy, I have no idea what lovemaking should smell like!”
Olivia speared her with a scathing gaze.
“You must trust that I would never do anything foolish. You raised me better than that.” It wasn’t a lie per-say, but Lydia didn’t feel any less guilty at the omission. For half a second she considered letting Olivia find Brian, then he would be obligated to marry her. But she would never trap a man in marriage. Being with her must be his choice.
“I sincerely hope so.” Olivia arched a disciplinary brow. “Having that Donnelly man so close to your quarters makes me nervous. I’ve seen how you look at him. Not that I blame you,” she added almost under her breath. “But your father simply will not listen to reason in the matter. He insists Brian Donnelly is the best man ever to serve under him.” Opening the closet door Olivia seemed to assure herself Lydia was in fact alone and sauntered toward the door. “All right, I will leave you to rest, but consider yourself forewarned… I am watching you.”
The door clicked shut and Brian stumbled back into the room, shaking water droplets from his hair. “Colder than Hades out there.”
“Isn’t Hades supposed to be hot?” She ogled the sight of his incredible body with beads of rain clinging to the bronzed skin it was all she could do to follow his words. It must be a sin for the man to look so… good.
He strode to the door and struck the lock before doffing rain soaked trousers and climbing back into the bed. “Get over here lass, I’m freezin’.” He pulled her into his arms, snuggling her back against his slicked chest.
“Oh, Brian,” she giggled playfully, “your feet feel like ice sickles.”
“Do they? And what about me nose?” Teasingly he pressed his face into her neck.
<
br /> “Stop, please! Your nose is just as cold.”
“Well, seein’ as yer the one who ordered me onto the balcony in the middle of that there storm I’d say it is now yer duty to warm me back up.”
“Fair enough I suppose.” She laced her fingers through his, enjoying the ease of their intimacy.
Wordlessly he kissed the top of her head, snuggling her into a perfect nook.
Lydia sighed, the time had come to discuss their future. “Brian, will this be it for us? Our only chance to be together?”
Brian rolled away from her, sprawling across the bed. Slowly Lydia turned and rose on an elbow. His eyes were closed, expression relaxed, but otherwise unreadable. “Oh, love, no. I don’t know that I can ever let ye go now. At least not completely.” His lids opened, fixing a gaze upon her that was soft and yielding. “Ye’re mine, Lydia. Don’t ever forget.” He paused, reaching for her fingers. “I-I think I love you.”
Lydia’s heart swelled, instantly she threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, Brian, thank you! I love you too. Let’s run away together. We can leave right now for Scotland and be married tomorrow. We’ll take Brandon with us, we can adopt him.”
He chuckled at her exuberance. “Easy now, love, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s not what I said.”
Thick dread pooled in her stomach, Lydia pulled away. This couldn’t be happening. “What are you saying, Brian?”
“Just what does it sound like I’m sayin’? To hell with the Americas, I will take the lead trainer position with Lord Northbridge to be near you.”
“To be near me?” she said slowly, the true implication of his words dawning, and casting heavy shadows across a lifetime of dreams. He didn’t want her, never really had wanted her, at least not in an ‘until death do you part’ sort of way. It hurt. She’d known this could happen. He’d made it painfully clear he wanted nothing more than a passing flirtation, perhaps nothing more than this one magical, amazing night. But until this very moment… the moment when her heart was open and bleeding on a pedestal before him… the fact she wouldn’t be able to change his mind had never occurred to her.
Forget Me Not Page 24