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This will do," she answered.
The isolated spot she'd chosen was a flat piece of nothing squeezed
in between the pines. There was barely enough room for him to roll
over. She seemed to like it, though, and for what he owed was going
to be the very last time, he let her have her way. He stood behind her
as he removed his boots, all the while trying to control his temper.
She spread the blanket out on the ground, and though he was sure
she would try to make an hour-long project out of the simple task,
she surprised him by being quick about it.
When she was finished, she removed her slippers and
then stood up, facing him. She moved closer, until her toes were
touching his, and stared into his eyes, holding her breath while she
waited for him to touch her.
He didn't move. Tension filled the air between
them, her ,anxiety building as she stared into those dark, inscrutable
eyes of his, looking for the first sign of displeasure. Lord,
she couldn't stand the silence long.
"I had thought to keep my clothes on."
He slowly shook his head. "But then I thought to
take them off," she whispered.
And still he waited. She told herself she had made
the decision and now it was up to her to keep her word. Her hands
shook as she untied the belt at her waist, and the woolen
material he'd draped around her fell in a swoosh to the ground.
She thought about moving to the side before she
took her gown off, because the moonlight was blocked by the tree
branches there and shadows would hide her nudity from him, but then
she decided to stop being such a coward.
Should she tell him she wasn't wearing anything
underneath her nightgown? No, she decided, he would find out soon
enough. Her heart was pounding frantically, but her anxiety had
faded a little-because he wasn't attacking her, she
supposed-and somewhere in the back of her muddled thoughts was the
realization that Connor wouldn't deliberately hurt her. She couldn't
understand why she felt that way, but she did, and oddly, her hands
weren't
shaking nearly as much.
She felt she was in charge of what was happening to
her, and that made all the difference.
She regarded him gravely while she gathered her
courage and then slowly removed her nightgown. She kept her gaze on
Connor all the while, searching for a hint of displeasure or
disgust because her body was so terribly imperfect. She was fully aware
of
her flaws. Her breasts were too large, her hips too narrow, and
her legs were too long for the rest of her body. He was bound to
notice, she knew, and if he so much as frowned with displeasure, she
thought she would close her eyes and die of shame.
He took his time looking at her. His gaze lingered
on her parted lips, her full breasts, her narrow waist, the blond curls
shielding her virginity, her long legs, all the while trying to
remember how to draw a breath. Dear God, he hadn't expected such
beauty.
He was overwhelmed by her, for he had never imagined such
a woman could exist, and if he weren't a practical man, he would
have thought she wasn't English at all but a goddess sent down from
heaven to reward him for the vengeance he had sought in his sainted
father's name.
He was fast becoming desperate to take her into his arms and plant
himself firmly inside her. He didn't give in to his
body's demands yet, but stood where he was and let her take the
lead once again. For some reason he didn't understand, she had gotten it
into her head that she should be the one making the decisions tonight.
He had come to this startling conclusion when he had hesitated
instead of ordering her to remove her clothes and be damned quick about
it.
He had shaken his head at her to let her know he didn't care for
her decision to keep her clothes on, but before he could explain exactly
what he wanted her to do, she changed her mind.
And he got exactly what he wanted.
The blush covering her face reflected her
embarrassment. She was trying to look defiant and not afraid, but she
was
worried. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she stood as
straight and rigid as a spear, and in her hands clenching and
unclenching
at her sides. Oh, yes, she really was perfect.
She must have believed he would become the
aggressor now, and when he didn't reach for her, she slowly began to
relax.
Why didn't he take off his clothes? She worried
about that for a full minute before deciding to offer her assistance.
"I had thought you would remove your own clothes, but then I
England help their husbands disrobe."
She was obviously making it all up as she went along. If it helped
relieve her fear, he didn't mind. "Do you want me to undress you,
Connor?"
He considered answering her, then decided what had worked before
would work again, and so he simply nodded agreement.
She took another shaky breath, no doubt bracing herself for what she
thought she would find, before she finally gathered enough gumption
to reach for his belt. Her toes, as weightless as a butterfly's wings,
brushed over his, and the second the knot was undone and his plaid
began to drop to the ground, she took a quick step
back.
He wasn't wearing any underclothes. She noticed that right away,
God help her for being foolish enough to look, and she deliberately
turned her attention to his chin until her heart calmed down. She'd
only taken a glimpse below his waist before she forced herself to
look away. It was still more than enough to make her want to run all
the way back to England.
"Connor, are you certain this will work?"
The bewilderment in her voice amused him. God, she was innocent.
And young.
He gently pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him. His
head dropped down to the top of her head. "Yes," he promised.
He was a little surprised he could speak at all. The feel of her soft
breasts pressed against his chest demanded his full attention, and
honest to God, he was beginning to believe the unbearable wait had
been worth the trouble.
He couldn't wait any longer though. Neither his body nor his mind
would allow another minute to pass without fulfilling all of his urges.
Connor had fully expected to be surprised again, and that he was,
because once he'd convinced her to quit hiding in the crook of his
neck and tilt her head up toward him, she let him kiss her. She didn't
know what she was doing, of course. Her lips were closed tight
against his, but with his gentle coaxing, she began to relax. Then he
told her what he wanted her to do. She didn't fight him, just gave
him a look that suggested she thought he was out of his mind to want
her to do such a thing, and after he'd repeated his demand, she finally
conceded to him and opened her mouth.
And then he kissed her the way he'd imagined he would from the
moment he'd first seen her today. His tongue quickly moved inside
her sweet warmth to stroke and explore. It was much, much better
than what he'd imagined it would be. God, how he liked kissing her
this way.
She liked it too. She wound her arms around his neck and began to
stroke him, timidly at first, then far more boldly, until she seemed as
eager as he was to experience more of the erotic pleasure.
Copyright M-) 1996 by Julie Garwood
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