Stuart, Elizabeth (28 page)

Lightning
flashed and with it, the thunder. She reached for him, heart pounding.
"Alex?
"

"Shhh,
lass. There's no need to fear. The storm'll be passing soon." He slid an
arm about her, drawing her tightly against him. She leaned into him, felt his
hands stroke her hair, her shoulder, the curve of her waist and hip. They moved
slowly, knowingly, his long tactile fingers splayed.

Jonet
shivered and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth flush downward from the track
of his fingers, wanting the hot immediacy of his body against hers again.
"No, I..." she swallowed. "I just thought you'd lost
interest."

She
thought of Diana, the woman who made her feel less than a woman, of the
beautiful, voluptuous body she'd glimpsed. "You've compared me to a lad
more times than I care to remember."

He
laughed, low and deep. It was a warm rich sound that caused something to shift
in the pit of her stomach. "You've not the remotest resemblance to a lad,
sweetheart. And I've most certainly not lost interest. We were just getting
ahead of ourselves a bit. I needed to slow down. I've no desire to be losing
control. Not yet, anyway. I've imagined this so many times, I want to savor
it."

He
rolled over her then, covering her mouth with his own, opening it with one
sliding, sensual thrust of his tongue. The kiss was long and slow, potent as
strong spirits. "I want to savor you, Jonet. Every beautiful inch... in
every incredible way I've imagined a thousand times or more."

She
shivered as he cupped her breast in his palm, lifting it, squeezing it gently.
His fingers drew slow, erotic circles around one crest. She felt it pucker,
harden, as he brushed his thumb deliberately, rhythmically against the bud. And
then he bent, traced the aching tip with his tongue, wetting it, catching it in
his mouth to stroke and suckle and torment.

Jonet
gasped and grasped his shoulders, anchoring herself against the intense
sensations, against the swift, hot throbbing that began all at once in her
groin.

He
intensified the pressure and she twisted and cried out, feeling a hot, wet
melting begin in the very core of her being. He stroked her free breast with
one hand, catching the crest, thumb and finger imitating the exquisite movement
of his mouth.
"Alex..."
she choked out.
"Oh,
God."

She
tried to rise, but he held her beneath him in the most exquisite frustration of
her lifetime. Her nails caught in his shirt, dug into his shoulders.

He
continued the action until she twisted and cried out again, her head flung back
in the pillows. Then his mouth coveted hers, taking her cries inside, his hands
moving downward to slip between their bodies, to lift and separate her thighs
and settle her for the weight of his body.

She
felt him against her, knew he was going to take her soon. And amazingly she
wasn't afraid or shy or anything virgins were expected to be. She felt a
moment's surprise at her boldness, but nothing about Alexander shamed or
frightened her. Nothing ever could anymore.

His
hands stroked between them touching her in the most intimate manner yet. An
unbearable tension flexed and coiled and melted in the pit of her stomach. Her
thighs squeezed against him. Her breasts ached. She moved restlessly, yearning
upward, slipping her hands beneath his shirt, relishing the supple smoothness
of his waist, the fluid movement of taut muscle... the first of the healing
stripes on his back.

She
hesitated.
His back.
Her fingers explored. Hesitated. Explored again.

"It's
all right," he murmured. "It doesn't hurt. Not now, anyway."

What
she conjured was anguish. "I'll never forgive them.
Never!"
It
was as close as she dared get to speaking of the exile to come.

He
kissed her bare shoulder. She felt the smile pressed against her skin. "It
wasn't so bad, lass. I've been through worse, believe me."

He
had found his way to her throat. She shivered as he kissed his way downward,
forgetting his wounds, forgetting everything but the incredible man above her.

She
pictured him brown and bare and leaning toward Diana, remembered him shirtless
that day at the stream. "Could you..." She wet her lips, wanting the
feel of him against her like that. "Could you take off your shirt?"

"Oh,
aye. I'll do more than that. But I warn you things will proceed rather rapidly
after that." He traced her lips with his finger, kissed her again.
"Don't forget where we were, lass," he murmured. "I'd hate to be
forced to start over again."

He
rolled to the edge of the bed, slipping off his boots, removing his clothing
with the same graceful efficiency with which he did everything else. Jonet
pushed up on one elbow. The storm was moving away, but a flash of lightning
caught him, branding the vivid image of inimitable masculine grace in her mind's
eye forever.

Then
he was easing back beside her, bringing his welcome warmth to her flesh.
"I'd a notion the kind of woman you were by the way you watched me wash up
that day in the borders." He chuckled. "A man can usually tell, you
know."

She
felt the first stab of doubt. She had been forward, shamelessly so. But with
him she had gone with her instincts. Somehow it had always felt right.
"And just what kind of woman am I, Alex? Though I don't suppose I need
ask?"

He
was silent for several moments. "One worth dying for, lass," he said
softly. "But don't let it go to your head."

The
words stunned. If she didn't know better...

He
took her arm and drew her flat on the sheets beside him. Leaning over, he
pressed his mouth against her throat, tracing downward along her shoulder, her
collarbone to the swell of her breast and the delicate peak that crowned it.
"I knew even then," he whispered against it. "But I wouldn't
have admitted the truth for all the world."

Her
heart was hammering. She thought she would burst with the need to tell him she
loved him, with the shivering heat of his mouth and his hands that set her on
fire. She drew her breath in sharply. "You'd oblige me," she said
instead, "by not dying just yet."

He
made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Ah, Jonet... lass, I
don't know if I'm going to be able to wait for you."

She
gasped again as he touched her, as his mouth and his hands worked their own
brand of magic. "Don't... don't wait on my account."

"No?"
He
drew the word out. "Well, I'm about to show you, lass, just what you'd be
missing if I didn't."

He
stroked her then, caressed her, handled her in ways that were infinitely
knowing, mindlessly rousing. His fingers slid between her thighs, moving into
the secret, aching part of her and making the ache more urgent.

She
caught his head up, kissing him deeply, wanting him with an intensity she could
never have imagined before. She reached for him, stroked him hesitantly at
first and then boldly, imitating his movements, learning the hard places of his
body and the soft, the angular planes and smooth, furred curves. The places
that made him shudder and groan against her mouth.

Reason
fled, sensuality triumphed. They were both breathless and aching, quivering
near the edge. He stretched himself over her, positioning himself, showing her
what he had to give, but not giving it just yet. "Don't," he
whispered. "Don't slide over just yet, lass."

"What?"

In
answer he kissed her again, deeply, threading his fingers through hers.
Bending, he caught her nipple in his mouth, nibbling, sucking, until she cried
out and tried to rise. Drawing her hands alongside her shoulders, he held her
beneath him, trembling, aching... wanting. And then he groaned and thrust into
her, taking her to himself and ending her innocence forever.

Jonet
gasped at the feel of him, hot and swollen and buried inside her. She was
shivering, hurting... but breathlessly waiting for more. Somehow, she knew
there'd be more.

And
then it came. Alexander began to move. He thrust deeply, rhythmically, piercing
her body, filling her with himself, melding her soul and heart and body into
his. Reality spun away, rational thought ended. There was only the hot silken
slide of joined bodies straining as one.

Jonet
groaned and rode with him as the heat and wanting swept them, as they spiraled
beyond need, shattering together into the immense, satisfying oblivion of a
perfect, trusting pleasure.

***

Jonet
drifted back to consciousness, penetrated, surrounded, engulfed by Alexander.
She had never felt so close to another human being; she had never felt so
loved. She ached to tell him so, but didn't. He knew how she felt already.

And
she didn't want to spoil this moment. She wanted to hold it fast as long as she
could, to burn it into her memory as he had burned himself into her senses.

Because
it might not come again.

Alexander
sighed and stretched, bending his head against her throat, kissing the swell of
her breast. "Ah, lass..." He sighed again.

He
sounded sated, as satisfied as she felt. Jonet smiled in the darkness, hoping
it was so.

He
shifted again, lifting himself. "I must weigh near fifteen stone. I'd
best—"

She
made a small sound of protest, tightening her arms around him. "Not yet.
Don't let it be over yet."

"Over,
lass?
Over?
Don't think you'll get off so lightly." He kissed the
hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts. "After that remark
about my not being able to last the distance, you'll be lucky to get out of
this bed by dinner tomorrow!"

Jonet
laughed with the sheer glorious wonder of it all. He wanted her. He wanted her
again. And after all this, she felt no constraint. The playful, comfortable
intimacy was between them still. "That wasn't what I said at all. I was
expressing my confidence, Alex. I said I thought you would have been able
to."

"Oh,
so that's what you were doing. So nice of you to believe in me, lass."

He
hesitated, grew serious for a moment. "I'm sorry, lass, if I hurt you
there at the last. I should have held back, but somehow I couldn't. I... I just
wanted you so damn much. Are you..." he fumbled uncertainly, rarely at a
loss. "Are you all right?"

"All
right?" Jonet was still smiling. "That isn't exactly the way I'd
describe myself just now. And as for hurting me, I don't recall. I'm afraid I
was distracted by a few other feelings. Perhaps we should do it again and I'll
try to concentrate."

Alexander
laughed and wrapped his arms about her, rolling sideways and taking her with
him, over and up to a comfortable, sprawling abandonment on his chest. "A
man couldn't ask for a better compliment, I suppose."

"And
is that what a man wants at these times? Compliments?" Jonet bent and
kissed his chin, slid her fingers teasingly through the hair on his chest.
"Hmmm, I suppose I could say that you have absolutely incredible..." She
hesitated deliberately, "...hair."

"That's
what's wrong with you, lass. No imagination. A man wants to hear that the earth
moved and the moon swung out of its path. That waves crashed and stars fell out
of the sky."

Jonet
chuckled. "All of that, Alexander." Her fingers slid to his face and
stroked it, memorized its feel in the dark. She bent to kiss his mouth.
"And so much more that I could never even begin to tell you."

His
arms slid down her back resting just over the swell of her hips, locking her against
him. "And what does a woman wish to heat? What does Jonet Maxwell wish to
hear?"

"That
the earth moved and the moon swung out of its path. That waves crashed and
stars fell out of the sky." She swallowed against the sudden ache in her
throat. "That she made the man in her arms happy," she added softly.
"That she took away the pain of living if only for an hour or so."

He
lifted his head, brushed a kiss against her mouth. "All of that," he
whispered. "All of that and more."

They
kissed again, tenderly, as if there were nothing more in all the world. And
suddenly Jonet couldn't beat it. She had to know. "When are you
leaving?" she blurted out. "I know I shouldn't ask, but I can't stand
not knowing. Please don't be angry. And please don't say it's tomorrow."

He
lay still, his arms enfolding her. "No, lass, not tomorrow. And no, I'm
not angry. I'd say you've a right to know." He paused. "But it has to
be the day after. I've already sent word."

"Oh."
She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the thrumming force of his
heart. She fought for a normal tone. "Will you be back before I
leave?"

"Probably
not."

She
drew a deep breath. "I see."

"No,
you don't, but I can't explain it. There's business I must see to, things that
must be done. Things I've little stomach for as a matter of fact. I'd much
rather stay here with you, Jonet. I would if I could. I swear it." He
hesitated, drew a deep breath. "But we both know it can't be. We knew that
truth when we started. Everything I said this afternoon still holds true."