INDIGO PLACE

by Sandra Brown

  Sandra Brown - 22 INDIGO PLACE

  like Laura Nolan. The kiss he planted solidly on her mouth certainly didn't bow to

  convention. It went on forever, until the judge diplomatically cleared his throat.

  Only Gladys, Bo, and Mandy had been there to witness the nuptials. Laura had

  tentatively asked James earlier in the week if his mother would be in attendance,

  but he had brusquely told her no. She had wisely let the subject drop.

  After they left the courthouse, James insisted on treating them to supper and

  champagne in a private dining room he had reserved in the fanciest restaurant in

  town.

  By the time they returned to Indigo Place, Laura had a roaring headache. Her

  nerves were raw. James must have sensed it. He came up behind her as she was

  helping Mandy unpack her last suitcase. He placed his hands tenderly on Laura's

  shoulders and said, "I'm paying Gladys to do chores like this. Go on to our room

  and relax. I'll be there shortly."

  "But Mandy—"

  "I'll see that she gets to bed." He kissed the back of Laura's neck. "Get out of this

  dress. It's beautiful and you look great in it, but I'm sure you can find something

  more … comfortable … to slip into. If you'll pardon the cliché."

  She kissed her new daughter good night, thanked Gladys and Bo, who was

  bringing up the remainder of James's bags, and bade them all a good night.

  After swallowing two aspirin, she bathed, hoping the soothing warm water would

  calm her serrated nerves. She spent a long time in front of the mirror in the

  dressing room, brushing her hair, applying lotion until her skin was as smooth as

  silk, and dabbing scent onto places so scandalous it made her blush. Primed for a

  wedding night, she went around the room lighting fragrant candles and, finally,

  turned down the bed.

  Her efforts were rewarded. When James entered the room, he stood still on the

  threshold for several moments before softly closing the door behind him. He

  looked surprised and pleased.

  Laura, standing in the middle of the room, nervously wringing her hands, asked,

  "Is Mandy all right?"

  "She's asleep. She talked Gladys into singing her a lullaby. Gladys almost fell

  asleep before Mandy did." He chuckled as he shrugged out of his dark suit coat.

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  He looked wonderful in his tailored vest. It hugged his trim torso, tapering to his

  waist.

  He dropped his jacket onto the chaise, which Laura had moved into the bedroom.

  She picked up his coat and carried it into the dressing area. He followed her,

  unbuttoning the neat row of buttons on his vest. She hung up his coat and reached

  for the vest when he slung it down on the dressing-table stool.

  "What are you doing?" He caught her hand in mid-action, as she reached for a

  hanger.

  "Hanging up your clothes."

  He yanked the vest from her hand and heedlessly tossed it to the floor. "That's

  right admirable of you, to do such a wifely task, but" – he ducked his head to

  nuzzle her neck – "I can think of other marital duties I'd rather you got busy with."

  He swept her up into his arms and against his chest. She clutched the front of his

  shirt for balance as he carried her into the bedroom. His face was intense as he

  stared into hers. He set her down at the side of the bed.

  "Did I tell you what a beautiful bride you were?"

  She shook her head, sending her hair brushing across the fingers that were

  caressing her neck.

  He made a tsking sound. "Shame on me. You were – are – very beautiful. Your

  dress fit you perfectly." His eyes ranged down her body, taking in the pastel blue

  lace-and-silk negligee. "But I like you better like this," he said thickly.

  He pressed his mouth to hers. Their lips parted. Their tongues touched. As the

  kiss deepened, he slipped the lacy robe off her shoulders. It slid to the rug at their

  feet. Laura shuddered with pleasure as his hands lightly coasted over her body,

  stopping frequently to investigate a curve, appreciate a hollow.

  When he raised his head, he looked at her breasts through the sheer cups that

  supported them. His eyes narrowed, and he moaned. "Lord, you make me—"

  He clenched his teeth, made a hissing sound, and squeezed his eyes shut. Groping

  for her hand at her side, he found it and carried it forward, pressing it over the

  front of his trousers.

  Laura paled, then blushed hotly. But James didn't see, because his eyes were still

  closed and he was devotedly concentrating on the deliciousness of having her

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  fingers folded around him. He chanted words and phrases that shocked her and

  made her tremble. "That's good, so good," he murmured, verbally titillating his

  wife.

  After several moments, he opened his eyes and sighed deeply, giving her a

  chagrined smile. He let go of her hand and it dropped away from his body. "I want

  us to go slow. And I won't be able to take my time if we do too much of that."

  She nodded wordlessly, unsure that she would ever have the power of speech

  again. She stood as still as a statue as he reached for the buttons of his shirt and

  undid them. He peeled the garment off with dispatch and it went the way of her

  robe. Leaving her standing, he sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his

  shoes and socks. Laura, it seemed, couldn't do anything without being coached. It

  was as though she had lost the capacity to think on her own, much less execute

  any voluntary action.

  James unbuckled his belt and unsnapped his pants, but that was as far as he got.

  His eyes, never venturing too far away from the enticing picture her breasts made

  in the provocative nightgown, moved up to her face. "I can't even get undressed

  for wanting to have my hands on you," he remarked on a soft laugh.

  He lightly squeezed her waist between his hands and drew her forward to stand at

  the edge of the bed between his wide-spread thighs. He rubbed his face against

  her breasts. Then his parted lips moved across them. His tongue touched her

  through the lace. His hands slid downward from her waist to her hips, then

  behind her, caressing and pressing, inching her closer to him.

  "You smell good. I remember wanting to get close enough to smell you. I didn't

  think anybody could be as clean and fresh as Miss Laura Nolan looked. But you

  are." Making a sound of profound desire, he burrowed his nose in her cleavage,

  which was emphasized by the snug fit of her nightgown.

  There was a row of pearl buttons down the front of the nightgown. They were

  more decorative than functional, because the gown could be easily slipped on and

  off without undoing them. But James chose now to unfasten them one by one. He

  did so slowly, pausing after each one to pay homage to the bit of flesh it revealed.

  As the buttons popped free of their fragile casings, her breasts swelled between

  the spreading wedge of lace, until they were fully revealed.

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  Laura had had no concept of just how seductive a man's mouth could be. She

  watched James's moving from one of her breasts to the other. She saw the

  questing motions of his lips, the flexing of his cheeks, the limber movements of

  his tongue. Then the pleasure they delivered became overwhelming, and her eyes

  slid shut. He left her very wet. The air cooled her as his head moved down. He

  kissed her tummy and each rib.

  More buttons fell away under his nimble fingers. He peeled the straps of her

  nightgown from her shoulders and followed its slithering progress down her body

  with his hands. The gown pooled around her feet, but he didn't even give her an

  opportunity to step out of it.

  He kissed her navel. Lower. He kissed places where Laura didn't know kissing was

  permissible.

  She was adrift in an ocean of feelings, all new, all untried, all glorious. Her fingers

  were knotted in his hair, mindlessly clutching at the silky strands. When his hands

  pressed her derriere forward and urged her closer yet to his caressing mouth, she

  arched her back and obliged him without thinking about it.

  Not until he gently pulled her down onto the bed, and lowered himself to partially

  cover her, did her reason return. She lifted slumberous blue eyes to the green

  intensity of his. His breathing was barely controlled, and struck her face in warm

  gusts.

  "I want you." Without releasing her from his hot gaze, he slipped his hand down

  to his fly and unzipped it. Laura stared up at him with the fascination of a doe

  caught in the hunter's sight. The rasp of his zipper was followed by the rustling

  sound of fabric against skin as he shoved his trousers down his legs and kicked

  them free. He lay one hard thigh over hers.

  "Get ready. I'm going to kiss you like I've always wanted to." His voice was rough,

  deep, aggressive.

  His mouth came down hard and forcefully, but she was waiting for it. His tongue

  roughly parted her lips, but when he thrust it into her mouth, her lips closed

  around it and sucked it deeper inside. Her nails dug into the supple muscles of his

  back.

  He wedged his knee between her thighs and levered his body over one side of hers

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  so she could feel the full extent of his arousal. He rubbed himself against her

  thigh. The sounds emanating from his hair-dappled chest were yearning, hungry

  sounds.

  He left her lips rosy and moist and lowered his mouth to her breasts. His fervent

  kisses were tempered only by his desire to give her as much pleasure as he took.

  His tongue was agile and playful. It indulged his every whim and fulfilled her

  every fantasy.

  One of his hands smoothed down the outside of her thigh to her knee. He cupped

  the back of it and lifted it to stroke the sensitive underside of her thigh. Up, up,

  toward the source of the heat that consumed her.

  Her reaction to his touch was violent, but splendid. Her back arched off the bed

  and she gave a sharp cry of sheer ecstasy. He, breathing heavily and hardly able to

  restrain himself from taking her immediately, circled the mouth of her femininity

  with his fingertip. Laura plaintively sighed his name and clutched his shoulders.

  James explored inside. Stroking the softness. Probing the wetness. Deeper.

  A heartbeat later, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head resting on his

  hands, his elbows propped on his knees. His breathing was labored, and filled the

  romantically beautiful bedchamber with a discordant thrashing sound.

  Laura, one arm folded across her eyes, the other lying palm up, helpless and

  vulnerable at her side, bit her lower lip to keep him from hearing her weeping.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I don't understand. Tell you what?"

  "Tell me that you were a virgin."

  "I…" She tried to moisten her mouth by swallowing, but it didn't help. "I thought

  you knew."

  "Well, I didn't."

  Angrily he came off the bed and crossed the room in long strides. Startled by his

  sudden movement, Laura jumped. He went to the antique portable tea cart that

  served as a liquor cabinet. Laura had thought it would add a homey touch to the

  room and had never considered that it would actually be functional. But James

  lifted the stopper out of a crystal decanter and splashed a generous shot of

  bourbon into a highball glass. He downed the whiskey in two swallows.

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  Wary of his temper, she pulled the sheet up to her chin, hiding her nakedness. Her

  breasts still bore the faint scratches of his beard stubble, and she was certain her

  mouth looked well-kissed. It felt well-kissed. As for the rest of her body, it was still

  pulsing with unrequited arousal.

  "Does my virginity make a difference?" she asked tremulously.

  "A difference?" He spun around. "Hell, yes, it makes a difference."

  Laura was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him. Spared from being

  completely naked only by his briefs, he looked fierce and masculine and

  supremely virile. His passion hadn't been totally squelched, she noted, glancing

  down his body to where his shorts were stretched in front.

  His skin was one toasty tan color all over. His body hair was light brown and

  gilded by the summer sun. It grew darker only in that dense patch that swirled

  around his navel.

  "Why?" She was sincerely bewildered by this sudden and volatile mood shift and

  the apparent reason behind it.

  He raked a hand through his hair, increasing the tousled condition her hands had

  already caused. He was seemingly impervious to his unclothed state and the havoc

  it was causing his bride.

  "Don't you realize the responsibility a man assumes when he takes a woman's

  virginity?"

  Laura looked up at him with wide-eyed misapprehension and shook her head. He

  cursed vividly and poured himself another two fingers of bourbon. He tossed the

  drink down his throat and set the glass on the tea cart with enough emphasis to

  rattle the other glassware.

  He went around the room blowing out the candles, then came toward the bed with

  a belligerent swagger. A deep frown was creasing his brows. His mouth was as

  sullen as a young boy's whose favorite kite just got tangled up in a tree.

  He shoved his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs. "Have you ever seen a

  naked man?"

  Laura swallowed hard and shook her head. "Only in magazines."

  He cursed again, less loudly, but more crudely. "Well, brace yourself."

  She tried, but he didn't give her much time. It wouldn't have mattered. Nothing

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  could have prepared her for James. He was still partially aroused. But rather than

  being frightened or repulsed, as he seemed to think she would be, she was

&nb
sp; intrigued and excited and curious – and desperately disappointed when he

  switched out the light.

  She felt the mattress give with his weight as he settled down beside her. He pulled

  the sheet over himself and turned his back to her.

  Never had Laura felt so rejected. She lay rigid in the darkness, trying not to shake

  the bed as she cried. Tears slid down her cheeks in streams. Unable to control

  them, she sniffed.

  James turned over. "Laura?" When she answered with a soft hiccupping sob, he

  mumbled another curse, but scooted toward her and put his arm around her

  shoulders. "Don't. Don't cry. I'm not mad at you."

  "I thought husbands wanted their wives to be virgins. I never thought you'd be

  turned off by it."

  He was far from turned off, but he didn't tell her that. "This has nothing to do with

  you," he said, sifting her hair through his fingers. "I just never counted on being

  the guy to deflower Miss Laura Nolan, that's all."

  "Mrs. Laura Paden," she whispered in the dark.

  He smiled. And at the risk of breaking his control, he leaned over and kissed her

  gently on the temple.

  Chapter 7

  Sitting on the pier, his bare feet dangling over the water, James called himself

  every foul name he could think of. When he had exhausted that list, he started

  making up names. When his imagination ran out, he began enumerating all the

  kinds of fool he was.

  Last night he had had a beautiful woman in his bed. Naked and willing. A

  beautiful, naked, and willing woman who was also his wife. And, like an idiot, he

  hadn't made love to her. For the first time since his loss of innocence at the tender

  age of thirteen with an experienced girl of eighteen who had made the first move,

  James Paden had been incapable of taking a woman.

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  Not physically incapable. Hell, no, not physically. Physically, he was still ready.

  Several times during the night he had awakened, hard and aching with want.

  Beside him Laura lay sleeping. He could smell her, feel her warmth, hear her soft

  breathing.

  At daybreak, disgusted and furious with himself, he had thrown off the covers and

  clandestinely left the bedroom without waking his wife. Dressing only in a pair of