Angel in My Arms (36 page)

"Sell the mine?" He had taken her completely by surprise. "Sell it all?"

"Sell it," he repeated, firmer this time. He was toying with the
long row of bone buttons that ran down the front of her gown. Then,
hesitantly, "We… could sell it and go to California."

Celeste's breath caught in her throat. He had said
we,
hadn't he?
We,
as in both of them? "California?" was all she could manage.

"Sure. We buy land and we start that vineyard. I think I'm far
better suited to planting grapevines than sending men into heated
coffins, don't you?"

"And… and you want
me
to go?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he turned his head to meet her
gaze. White moonlight shone off his handsome, haggard face. "Once I
became conscious, lying there beneath the rubble, waiting, all I
thought of was you, Celeste. All I wanted was you. You're all I think
about day and night. I'd be a fool to think I could walk out of this
town without you."

Celeste was too shocked to say anything. He didn't want to leave
her! He didn't want to go to California without her. He wanted to be
with her as much as she wanted to be with him. She was suddenly so
filled with excitement that she thought her heart would burst.

"Oh, Fox," was all she could say. She raised her mouth to his and kissed him.

"Celeste."

He pressed his warm mouth against hers and she parted her lips. He tasted clean and fresh; he tasted of promise.

She slipped her arms around Fox's neck and drew one leg up to curl herself in his lap.

He unhooked the buttons of her white flannel and lace nightdress.
She sighed with pleasure as his hand found and cupped her breast. The
thought that she could have this forever was beyond conception. It was
what she secretly dreamed of, but never expected to have.

Fox brushed the rough pad of his thumb against her nipple and it
hardened in response. With his other arm, he held her tightly against
him, cradling her in his lap.

Over and over again, he brushed his tongue over her lower lips,
teasing her, nipping at her tongue with his teeth. She threaded her
fingers through his thick, glossy hair and arched her back, encouraging
him to press his mouth to the pulse of her throat.

"Celeste, Celeste," he whispered. "What made me ever think I could
leave you? I was doomed. Doomed from that first night in the swing."

She laughed, her voice husky in her ears. Everything really was going to be all right.

Fox kissed a burning path from her throat to the valley between her
breasts. She slipped her hands around his head and gently guided his
mouth to her aching nipple.

Fox tongued the pink bud and then suckled. She exhaled with
pleasure. The room had been cold a moment ago, but now it seemed warm.
Her flannel nightdress was hot and rough against her skin. Every inch
of her flesh prickled with heat and sensation.

Fox sucked one nipple and gently squeezed her other breast with his
hand. She covered his hand with hers, encouraging him, guiding him.

"I want to make love to you, Celeste," Fox whispered in the
darkness. "I want to hold you in my arms and make love to you, tonight,
tomorrow night, and all the nights to come." He raised his head from
her breast, and the moisture in his eyes convinced her that he meant it.

"Will you let me do that?" he murmured. He kissed her cheek, the tip
of her nose, the faint cleft of her chin. "Will you let me make love to
you?"

"Yes," she whispered, her heart bursting with joy. "Yes. It's what I want."
Always wanted.
She thought it, but she didn't say it.

Fox rose from the chair and carried her to the bed, never breaking
from her gaze. He laid her gently on the bed, kicked off his boots,
peeled off his stockings and breeches. He threw off his shirt and then
climbed into the feather tick beside her.

"Bit… it's cold." Celeste scrambled under the bedcovers and he followed her.

"Too much clothing," he teased as he pushed the gown over her
shoulders. "You've got far too much clothing on for my bed, woman."

She laughed with him as he pushed the gown over her shoulders and
she wiggled out of it, leaving it rumpled somewhere at the bottom of
the bed.

Fox pulled her against him so that they lay side by side, naked
flesh against naked flesh. She could feel the prickly hair of his chest
against her. She could feel his heart pounding as fast as her own.

"Much better," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. "Just the way I
like my business partners. Tough on the job, soft and"—he slipped his
hand to the apex of her thighs—"and wet for me in bed."

A moan escaped Celeste's lips. He knew so well how to please her. He
knew what she liked. He knew how to caress her. He knew how to tease
her to the brink of fulfillment, only to draw her back again at the
last moment.

Celeste ground her hips against him. She could feel his rod stiff and hot for her, pressing against her legs.

Fox rolled on top of her, his hand still stroking the sensitive
folds of her womanhood. They kissed again and again, harder, until
frenzied, she parted her legs and raised up to meet his first thrust.

"Please… now." Her voice was strained with desire, barely audible. Her heart was pounding, her breath coming in short gasps.

"You're always in such a hurry," he teased.

But as he kissed her shoulder, he slipped inside her.

Celeste rose to meet his thrust as hungry for him as she had ever been. "Fox," she whispered.

"Celeste." He lay still over her, deep inside. He kissed her closed eyelids. He brushed her lips in a butterfly kiss.

She sank her blunt nails into his buttocks. Drained of emotion, she
needed physical fulfillment. She could concentrate on nothing else but
her own burning desire and the only act that could fulfill it.

Celeste lifted her hips against his and pulled him down. Sensing her
need, he thrust hard. She raised her hands above her head on the
pillow, giving herself to Fox as she had never given herself to any man.

Ripples of hot pleasure coursed from the center of her being
outward. Every vein in her body shivered with want of him. Again and
again she rose to meet his thrust. He kissed her mouth and then lowered
his head to take one of her nipples.

She strained against him, her pleasure surging. "Fox!" she cried out
as she gripped his shoulders and her muscles convulsed. She felt as if
she had climbed a steep mountain and flown off the edge. She was
flying… flying in pleasure, flying in heat, flying in the comfort that
she had finally found someone who could care for her… love her.

Fox spilled his seed inside her with a groan and both grew still.
Tiny undulations of the aftermath of their lovemaking still rippled
through her.

Fox slid off her and rolled onto his back, panting.

She rested her head on her pillow, her eyes closed, floating… floating.

Fox leaned up on one elbow, kissed her, and then pulled the cover
over them both. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep
was the feel of his arms around her and the heady, musky smell of their
bodies pressed close.

Sometime in the middle of the night Celeste's eyes flew open. Fox
was asleep beside her, his breathing soft and even. He lay on his
stomach, one hand flung possessively over her.

Her heart pounded.

"He didn't say he loved me," she whispered softly to herself. It must have come to her in her sleep and woken her,

"He said he wanted me," she said in a dazed murmur. "He said he
needed me. But never once did he say he loved me. Never once did he say
he wanted to marry me."

Ice filled her veins and she was chilled to the bone. Carefully, so
as not to wake Fox, she slipped out of the bed. She grabbed her night
robe off the bedpost and slipped into it, naked and shivering. Grabbing
an extra quilt off the end of the bed, she sat in the chair by the
stove and dragged the quilt up over her. The stove radiated heat; she
should be warm enough, but she wasn't. Her chill came from a deeper
place—from her heart.

Celeste sat in the chair, her knees drawn up, and rocked herself.
Fox has never been anything but honest with me,
she thought.
He
said he could never love a whore again. How could I have ever thought I
could change him? How could I have thought for a moment that a man like
Fox would marry a woman like me?

But somehow, deep inside, she knew she must have thought he might,
else why would she be so disappointed? No, she wasn't just
disappointed. She was heartbroken.

Silver whined, rose from the rag rug beside the bed, and padded over
to her. She petted his head, scratched behind his ears, and the dog
leaned against her and sank to the floor.

It was her own fault. She knew better than to fall in love. She knew
better than to allow herself to get so close to a man that this could
happen. She got what she deserved…

So now what? Did she go with Fox and live with him in sin as she did
now? Wasn't it enough that he cared about her? That he needed her?
She'd never find a better man to give her life to.

But what about Adam? She remembered the need she had heard in his
voice when he said he wanted to live with her. Though she knew that he
knew that she loved him, she also knew that he wanted more from her.
How could she deny her son? Celeste didn't know what to do. She wanted
Adam with her, but she wanted to do what was best for him, not what was
best for her. Did she leave him at the school in respectable
surroundings? Or did she take him with her, and let him see what kind
of woman she was?

Tears slid down her cheeks.

And what about herself? Didn't she deserve to be loved?

The next morning Celeste stood at the stove, her back to the doorway when Fox entered the kitchen.

"Morning, sweet."

She heard him drop his boots by the chair and sit to put them on as he did every morning.

She spun around. "You didn't ask me to marry you," she blurted out.

Fox glanced up with a look of utter confusion on his freshly shaved face. "What?"

"I just want to understand." She raised her index finger. "You didn't ask me to marry you."

He looked down at his boot as he slipped his foot into it. "No."

"And you didn't say you loved me last night either. You just asked me to go with you to California."

He slammed his foot into the second boot."Isn't that enough, damn it!"

"No." She dropped her hands to her hips. "It's not."

He rose out of the chair and slammed it under the table. "What do
you want from me, Celeste? Just what the hell do you want?" There was a
tremble in his angry voice. "I care for you. I need you. I'll take care
of you. I'll give you anything the hell you want."

Her lower lip trembled as she fought back aching tears. She couldn't weaken now, she wouldn't. "But not your love."

He looked down at his feet, the hands she loved so much hung at his side. "No. I can't. Won't."

His words tore her heart asunder. She forced herself to be calm, her
voice cool and unemotional. "I think you need to move from my house."

He strode from the kitchen and slammed the doorjamb with his fist as he passed into the hall. "I think you're right."