Fire's Lady

by Bretton, Barbara

  The contrasts were dazzling: the silky smoothness of his tongue inside her mouth against the callused palms of his hands as he gently eased the silk kimono off her shoulders, leaving her clad in only her chemise.

  Never, never had she imagined a man as glorious, as powerful, as purely male as the one who stood before her.

  She gasped as his mouth left hers and he began a series of lazy, heated kisses down her throat and across her bared shoulders. Boldly she slid her hands inside his open shirt and gloried in the hard muscled strength of his chest. A thick mat of hair whorled around each of his flat nipples, tickling against her palm.

  Gently his hands moved upward from her waist, over her narrow ribcage, until his strong fingers rested just beneath the fullness of her breasts, so close she could feel the heat of his skin near hers. He paused for the space of a heartbeat and her entire body yearned toward him as a flower yearns toward the sun.

  "Beautiful," he murmured, cupping her through the fragile fabric. "So beautiful."

  Swiftly he undid the first few buttons of the chemise then dipped his head low. Her breath caught as he caught one tender nipple between his lips then began to suckle. She bit back a cry of shocked pleasure as he moved to her other breast, greedily suckling at that nipple until waves of violent sensation flooded her body with magnificent white heat.

  Deep within her belly a rhythmic throbbing began, snaking its way lower until she felt an answering pulse at the juncture at the top of her thighs.

  Her hands trembled as she touched his silky sunbleached hair as he bent before her. Suddenly his suckling stopped and she realized he was tasting the underside of her breast, her ribcage, his tongue traveling downward toward her navel.

  "Matthew," she whispered as he undid the rest of her chemise. "Please, you mustn't..."

  The chemise fell to her feet with a silken hiss and she stood naked and vulnerable before his heated gaze. Trembling, she met his eyes.

  "Alex..." His voice was a low groan. "Sweet, sweet Alex..."

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the feather bed, positioning her against the pillows with her hair spilling around her shoulders and over her breasts.

  The linens were cool against her heated flesh and the scent of her own perfume rose from the pillows and teased her nostrils. Matthew stood at the side of the bed, backlit by the swift-burning candle on her dresser, watching her and she reached for the quilt to cover her nakedness.

  "No." His voice was deep, commanding. "Let me see you, Alex."

  "Matthew, please." A deep blush colored her breasts and throat as she drew the quilt over her loins. "I cannot—"

  Comprehension dawned and a slight smile lit up his eyes. She watched, spellbound, as he pulled his shirt tails from his trousers. His chest was deeply muscled and broad. His shoulders were wide; his arms, powerful with thick veins coursing down his forearms.

  His hands moved to the waistband of his trousers and she waited, scarcely breathing.

  "Tell me now, Alex," he said, towering over her. "If it isn't to be, tell me now because soon it will be beyond my control."

  Sending him away now would be like stemming the tide of the ocean that crashed beyond the window.

  She opened her arms to him in welcome.

  "Stay," she whispered. "Stay with me tonight, Matthew."

  He stepped out of his trousers and approached the bed. His hips were lean, his flanks long and lithely muscled. But it was another part of him that held her captive. From a nest of mahogany curls, he sprang to violent life, jutting proudly out from his flat belly, so huge, so powerfully male that she found it impossible to avert her gaze.

  For a long moment he stood near her, his powerful arms resting at his sides, and allowed her to feast upon his nakedness as he had feasted upon hers.

  "You're magnificent," she breathed, small praise for such splendor.

  He eased himself onto the bed and the touch of his hip against hers sent violent shivers rippling through her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  Gently he turned on his side and, placing his hands at her waist, turned her so she faced him. There was nowhere to hide; he allowed no quarter between them. His beautiful eyes were level with hers and he watched her with an intensity so compelling that she could do naught but match his gaze.

  With one hand he cupped the back of her head, his large fingers spanning from temple to temple, tangled in her thick mass of hair. His other hand slid down the curve of her spine and traced a pattern on the rise of her buttocks.

  She lay there, paralyzed with fear and wonder, as he moved over her belly, to the silky triangle of dark hair at the top of her thighs. His fingers laced through the curls and she thought her heart would burst through her ribcage with the powerful sensations his intimate caresses aroused within her.

  And then he did the most unthinkable, the most amazing thing. His hand cupped her mound, the heat of his flesh searing her mind of anything but desire, and he opened her with the tips of his fingers. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he eased one finger inside her willing femininity and she gasped at the sensation of fullness as she closed around him. He rubbed her mound lightly with his thumb, moving in tiny circles over the throbbing nub that was suddenly the center of her universe.

  He drew a second finger across her opening and she was aware of moisture, hot and quick, easing him inside her. She pulsed around him, muscles tensing and relaxing out of her control, and her hips suddenly arched upward toward him.

  "Matthew," she moaned low in a voice she didn't recognize as her own. "I want—" She stopped for she didn't know exactly what it was she wanted, only that she prayed he would never stop moving his hand within her in such a wickedly sublime manner.

  "Slow, sweet Alex." His breath burned wet and hot against her cheek. "All in good time."

  For endless moments she lay there, receiving wave after wave of pleasure so intense she thought surely she would die of it. How did he know the secrets her body held when until this moment she'd had no idea such heights of passion were possible for mere mortals?

  And then he stopped. His hand still cupped her but the rhythmic stroking ceased and she whimpered deep in her throat and shamelessly moved against his hand.

  His chuckle rumbled up from his chest, thrilling her. "You want to be taught, do you, Alex?"

  She could only nod for speech was beyond her powers.

  "Then I'll teach you to pleasure a man."

  Her heart thudded so violently she could scarcely hear his words. Weren't women to be passive recipients of a man's attentions? Did they not find the ultimate satisfaction in somehow spending themselves within her body? Was it not enough to simply offer one's self to a man to do with as he will?

  Matthew McKenna, however, had other ideas. Ideas as dark as the night—and as thrilling.

  He lay back on the tangled linens and placed his hands behind his head. His body gleamed golden and dangerous in the waning light of the candle, all muscle and conquering male strength.

  "Touch me," he commanded and she knew instinctively he meant for her to touch his manhood which rose proud and terrifying from his loins.

  Leaning upon one elbow, she tentatively laid a hand upon his thigh, surprised at the way his muscles tensed at her touch. He waited, watching her, and she gathered courage to move beyond. Although his chest was relatively smooth, his legs were nicely furred and she let her fingers trail over the tawny hairs, amazed at their springy resiliency. The nest of curls below his navel were a darker shade and his shaft stood out in bold relief against it.

  "It won't hurt you," he said as her fingers gingerly explored the base. "Do as you will, Alex."

  He was hot, so hot against her hand, as she tried to circle the base with her fingers, but he was too thick for her fingertips to meet. A purple vein throbbed along a taut ridge of flesh and for a moment she had a wild desire to run her tongue against it and savor his heat. How soft his skin was, softer than velvet, softer than the finest silk. How amaz
ing it was that such softness could shield such something so deceptively—so amazingly—hard.

  She slid her hand up the base and he groaned violently at the friction of her palm against him. To her amazement two tiny pearls of moisture appeared at the tip and she bent low over him, her hair drifting lazily across his belly and chest, and touched her tongue to taste him. His body jerked suddenly as if jolted by an electric current. She lifted her head to look at him but his eyes were tightly closed, yet one hand resting gently against her nape encouraged her to explore further.

  He was vaguely salty, reminiscent of the ocean, of life itself, and she inhaled deeply of the clean crisp scent of him. Another drop of moisture appeared and this time she took it upon her fingertip and gently massaged him, her whole body aching with a fierce desire that threatened to turn her to pure light, pure fire.

  "Good God, woman!" He pulled her up until she lay atop him. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

  But of course she didn't. She knew nothing of what was happening except that it all felt so good, so right, that she could not imagine how such splendor could be anything but a gift from God above.

  "Teach me more," she whispered, pressing kisses along his cheek and jaw. "Teach me everything, Matthew."

  He rolled her onto her back. With his knee he separated her legs and positioned himself against her slender thighs as a quivering sensation began deep inside her body.

  It wasn't possible! Surely he could never—

  "Matthew!" she gasped as he found her with his hand. "I cannot—I mean, certainly it isn't possible for you to—" Certainly he didn't mean for her to sheathe his extreme size within her virginal passage.

  He bent low and pressed a shocking kiss against her belly. "A moment's pain, sweet Alex, and after that I promise you great pleasure."

  The tip of his manhood pressed powerfully against her moist and ready opening and she knew there was no help for it. Her emotions raged out of control, her thoughts scattering to the four winds, her very being disappearing before this onslaught of sensuality.

  A moment's pain, she thought, as he began to push against her. A moment's pain and then great pleasure.

  She was opening for him; she could feel the delicate folds embracing him, welcoming him deeper and deeper until—

  Her back arched as he found her maidenhead barring entry into her virginal passage.

  "Come with me, Alex," he urged in a voice filled with raw sweetness. "Come with me."

  He caressed her belly and her breasts. He drenched her shoulders and throat and forehead with honeyed kisses.

  And when she was mindless, begging him to give her ease, he pulled back and, watching her, ever watching her, plunged deep within, her maidenhead gone forever.

  Pain was a fiery sword slicing through her and she bucked wildly in an attempt to throw him off. But he was an expert rider and, murmuring softly, he gentled her, telling her the best was yet to be.

  Miraculously he was right. The pain receded and only a strange and wonderful sensation of fullness remained, as if she'd never been complete until this moment, with this man nestled snugly between her thighs.

  For a time he lay still as her body adjusted to his presence within her. Then he began to move, slowly at first, in a rocking, rhythmic motion that triggered a primitive response.

  Each movement he made brought forth an answering motion from Alexandra, as if she sought to draw him so deeply inside her they could never be parted.

  She caressed his shoulders, trailed her hands over his back until they came to rest over the smooth muscles of his buttocks. He groaned into her mouth as she continued to explore him and she felt the tempo of his thrusts increase. To her amazement he seemed to grow larger, stronger, burn hotter and she caught his fire as her own.

  He was pure flame within her, igniting her with a passion that drove all but pleasure from her consciousness. A delicious tension gathered within her, a powerful aching sensation propelling her faster and faster toward the sun.

  She didn't know what it was she yearned for, but the need in her was great, so great that nothing else mattered but finding that which she sought.

  "Now," she whispered against his lips. "Now, Matthew!"

  Suddenly his body arched like a bow and grasping her more tightly to him, he took her with him as they fell into the flames.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Matthew awoke with the dawn to find Alexandra cradled in his arms. For a moment, as he hovered between sleep and wakefulness, he thought she was a dream, a fantasy conjured up to ease his empty heart.

  But she was there. Her silky hair spilled over the pillows, teasing his nostrils with the scent of wildflowers.

  One long leg gently rested over his; her breasts pushed softly against his chest.

  Last night she had shown him love in the fullest measure. She had come to him without fear, eager and passionate and beautiful beyond his wildest dreams. Where he had expected joy, he found transcendence. Where he had expected pleasure, he found paradise.

  Last night she had been heartsick with pain and found comfort with him. With each kiss, each caress, he sought to ease the ache inside her even as he sought to ignite the flames of ecstasy in her soul.

  Gently he pushed back the thin sheet covering them and extricated himself from her embrace. She protested softly in her sleep and he kissed the creamy apricot skin of her shoulder and climbed from the bed.

  His body was slightly sore from their lovemaking, the pleasant sensation of being well-used. He glanced down and noticed the red streaks of blood at the base of his member and the dots of crimson staining her thighs and he was profoundly moved by the notion that he had been the first man to love her.

  The only man.

  She lay, still sleeping, on the wide feather bed and he eased the covers down and feasted upon her splendor. Her limbs were long and beautifully curved with graceful hands and feet worthy of a marble statue. Her waist was narrow, all the better to complement the rounded flare of her hips. With her eyes closed she looked painfully young. Her mouth had yet to settle into the hardened lines of regret and he prayed to God above that he would never be the cause of any sorrow or pain.

  A large washstand stood atop her dresser and he retrieved a clean cloth and dipped it into the wildflower-scented water in the pitcher. He plucked a Turkish towel from the stack that rested next to the washstand then returned to the bed.

  With great care he began to stroke the damp cloth against her skin, washing away the traces of their lovemaking.

  Her eyelids fluttered open and she gasped softly in surprise at the sight of him kneeling between her thighs.

  "Matthew!" He could feel the heat of the blush traveling the length of her body as she tried to draw her knees together. "Please, don't..."

  He kissed each knee and pushed them gently apart once more, ignoring her protests. With the first few strokes she was once again clean but he continued to touch her, drawing the cloth time and again over her soft flesh until those protests shifted into moans of pleasure.

  The scent of wildflowers mingled with the warm musky smell of her womanhood and his senses grew painfully heightened. Dropping the cloth to the floor he bent his head and pressed his mouth against the flesh of her inner thigh and her body jerked in shocked response.

  "Shh," he whispered against her skin. "Let me love you, Alex."

  Trembling, she lay back against the pillow once again, her fingers laced in his hair. He moved slowly, kissing his way with great deliberation toward her core, feeling the inferno within him raging out of control as the scent of her grew more arousing.

  She was pink and rosy, the delicate folds of her sex glistening with the scented water. Succulent as a peach and he could not resist tasting her with the tip of his tongue.

  Once again she reacted as if jolted by lightning, a spasm of pleasure rippling through her that he felt through his body as well.

  "Matthew... dear God..."

  Her voice was far away, reaching his ears
as through a thick fog. He paid her the ultimate homage, plying her with his tongue and teeth, gentle nibbles and tender pressure that elicited wave after wave of response from deep within her.

  And when she grabbed his shoulders, climbing closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy, he kissed his way over her belly and breasts then watched her eyes as he buried himself deep within her and showed her all he could never say.

  #

  Ten miles away in Riverhead, Stephen considered his temporary home. The cell was clean, he'd grant them that, although it lacked the amenities he had grown so fond of over the years. The narrow cot upon which he lay was set up beneath the tiny window and if he turned slightly to the left he could watch dawn streaking its way across the sky.

  He'd been so close to his goal that he'd almost felt the weight of Andrew's fortune in his hands, almost tasted the fine champagne and eager women he would be his to command.

  Now instead of being the heir to the Lowell fortune, he was heir to disgrace. But no plan was perfect and he hadn't been fool enough to believe this one would be an exception. There were other ways to achieve his goal even if those ways required more intricate planning.

  He thought of his uncle, the dying king surveying his subjects from a throne of feathers and ticking. He'd banked upon the Lowell pride to keep Andrew from contacting the constabulary should the murder attempt fail and that infamous Lowell pride had not disappointed him.

  Did they not wonder about his docile acceptance of his banishment?

  Was Andrew so secure in his divine power that rebellion never even crossed his mind?

  Stephen cursed the flash of temper that had made him lash out at Andrew. Betraying his own rage had cost him. But he would have the last word, have no doubt about that. Settling back against the thin pillow he closed his eyes.