Deirdre took a single step forward. So very simple. That step brought her to stand between his knees and caused him to raise his head from where it rested. He drew back immediately, the moment of his surrender past.
She smiled at him fondly. Now was the moment for her surrender. Wasn’t he going to be surprised?
He blinked at her expression, wary hope rising in his own. Deirdre did something she’d longed to do for so many years.
She took both hands and energetically mussed his perfect hair.
Now his expression framed complete confusion. She threw her head back and laughed.
With a growl of damaged dignity, he started to push her away and stand up. She put her hands on his wide shoulders and pushed him back down. “Don’t even consider it,” she said briskly, still smiling. “I’m not through yet.” Then she put her hands into her own hair and yanked out the pins with practiced ease. After a shake and a toss that brought her long hair tumbling down over her shoulders and bosom, she looked back at him to see his eyes dark and interested and his urge to leave quite abated.
She tilted her head and raised a brow. “Staying now, are we?”
He nodded silently, never taking his gaze from hers. He waited now with the riveted intensity of a starving hound with the possibility of a steak in its future.
Poor darling.
Overcome with regret for her own part in his loneliness, she framed his jaw in her hands and gazed into his eyes. “I am not so bad with words,” she said softly, “yet I cannot tell you how sorry I am.” I love you, she wanted to say, but he wouldn’t believe it, not after her behavior so far. She was going to have to prove herself first.
The only problem was, she hadn’t the slightest idea how! The enormity of her ignorance swamped her, quite taking the starch from her knees. She longed to play temptress for him, but her experience extended to flirtation only. After that, she was entirely unequipped!
She hesitated, then bit her lip. “Calder, I fear you’re going to have to take over at this point. I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing.”
“Oh,” he breathed, “I wouldn’t say that.”
She blinked, then chuckled despite her nervousness. “You want me to continue … by myself?”
His corners of his mouth curled upward. The near-smile made him so handsome that her heart began to beat faster and more steadily at the same time.
He
was with her at last, the real Calder, the man inside—present and unarmored and gazing at
her.
The few past glimpses she’d treasured were as nothing next to the blazing force of Calder fully present.
Her mouth went dry and her nipples tingled and she felt her insides quiver. “I—”
love you.
Thankfully, her
throat was too tight to let the words out. Pulling herself together, she tried to think of what to do next. Kiss him, melt into him, gaze longingly into his eyes while she let her hands stray into his lap? All the years of watching Tessa’s practiced, cold-hearted seductions made her shy away from anything so manipulative. She wanted only the two of them here, only to feel what they truly felt. Only truth.
She had mussed his hair at last. What else had she longed to do?
Slowly, she took his hands in hers and stepped back, pulling him to stand with her. He came readily, making her flush with power along with her nervous desire. Then she spread his hands wide and let them go. She stepped into him until her entire body pressed to his and laid her head upon his wide, iron-hard chest. “Hold me,” she whispered.
She heard his heart thump at that. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, so slowly it was as if he feared to startle her, she felt his arms come about her until she was wrapped in him, feeling the heat of his big hands press into her back, keeping her tight to him.
Astonishingly, she felt hot tears rise behind her closed eyelids. It had been so long … She had been alone and unprotected for so, so long …
He held her close, cradled so tenderly yet so completely. This man would never harm her, nor allow her to be harmed. This man would fight for her, live for her, die for her—
If she could simply make him love her.
Yet now was not the time for her need. After allowing herself one last selfish moment of being held tightly by his strength, she took a breath and lifted her head to
smile up at him. “If you’ll give me a moment to clear the gowns from the bed—”
Calder wasn’t a man of words, but he had never been accused of lacking the nerve to take action. He wasn’t about to let her out of his arms now that she was finally, heart-poundingly in them. With a single motion, he swept her from her feet and deposited her on the enormous bed, pirate’s fortune in silk and satin be damned!
He fell with her, both of them sprawling entangled upon the piled gowns. She gasped and pushed at him frantically.
He went quite still. Had he misread her? Was this some sort of teasing game, a heartless manipulation?
“Get off!” She was scandalized, all right, but not by his sudden act. “Oh, Lementeur will
kill
us!”
He laughed then, a short unaccustomed bark. She froze in surprise, blinking those incredible blue eyes at him, her face so close he could kiss her without half trying.
What a marvelous idea.
He cupped her delicate jaw in his hand and lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth was so soft, so willing and inexperienced and delicious. He found that the world shrank again, just as it had when he’d first kissed his bride, the light of everything else dimming before the glory of her mouth.
Deirdre gave in, gave out, gave over, gave everything she had to that kiss—
oh God, don’t stop, don’t breathe, don’t ever let me go
—
He moved more fully over her and his weight pressed her into the mountains of priceless fashion and she sank willingly into them, loving the feeling of his
big body pressed to hers, allowing the heat and power of him to shelter her hungry heart.
She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer still. When his knee pressed between hers, she opened her thighs without thought. The layers of gown and trousers did nothing to hide the thick erection that swelled just to one side of her belly. His want only fired her own. When he slid his hand down her throat, she arched it willingly to his touch. When he covered her breast with his large hot palm, she jolted at the shot of sensation that hit her low in her belly and between her thighs. The tiny sound she made only seemed to fire him further, so he tugged at the neckline of her gown with such implacable determination that the seams slowly gave, exposing her nipple to his touch.
She moaned, one last sane thought crossing her mind. “The gown—”
“I’ll buy another,” he growled. “I’ll buy a hundred. Lementeur will retire young.”
“Well, all right then,” she sighed. “But there are buttons in the back, just in case you care to—”
His response was to yank the gown to her waist with enough force to nearly lift her from the bed. She gasped in surprise, then laughter. “Give me that!” He wouldn’t let her grab the bodice back, however, instead taking her wrist and pressing it to the bed beside her shoulder.
He gazed sternly down into her face. “To hell with the gown. Understood?”
Excitement trembled through her. This man—her man—was not to be underestimated. He was, however, not being entirely fair. Here she was, her sheer chemise exposed to his gaze, with her hardened nipples pressing
high through fabric not much denser than a spider’s web, and he remained fully clothed above her.
She licked her lips in half-nervous seductiveness. “To hell with your shirt. Understood?”
His hot eyes warmed further with humor. Tenderness rose in her to see him inching toward happiness. “Well?”
He said nothing, only rolled her over to half-lie upon him. After she caught her breath—would he never stop surprising her?—she clambered up him to straddle his hips with her costly gown rucked up about her thighs. By the size of the organ that greeted her beneath her skirts, she would not have long to play at dominance!
She fought down a shiver of natural apprehension—there must be some mistake! It would never fit!—and concentrated on evening the score. She tried to hold up her torn bodice with one hand while she struggled with his cravat with the other, then gave it up with a sound of impatience. Stripping the tiny sleeves from her arms, she pushed the ruined silk down to her hips, which left her quite indecently clad in the chemise but left both hands free.
The damned cravat took far too long and required great attention—which Calder did his best to destroy by tugging at the narrow ribbon that gathered the neckline of the chemise over her extraordinary breasts. Determined as she was, she didn’t notice until he was able to do a great deal of damage. Once he had it untied, he entertained himself mightily watching the jiggle and sway of her exposed creamy flesh before she noticed the draft.
She gasped and sat back abruptly, her hands pressing the chemise high once more. Unfortunately, this
brought her warm damp center in direct contact with his throbbing cock, which was already fair to bursting through his trousers. His eyes nearly crossed.
“Unfair,” she cried. “I’ve layers to get through yet! There’s your coat and weskit and shirt and …” Her voice trailed off uncertainly. “Do you wear anything else under that?”
Not for long.
Grasping her ribcage just beneath her arms, he brought that stunning cleavage down for a quick, hot kiss, then he lifted her off him and tossed her onto the mountain of jewel-toned silk beside him. “Stay!” he ordered, then rose from the bed, stripping off his coat so fast that there was the unmistakable sound of popping seams.
Deirdre had tunneled herself under several gowns and now peeked out, primly covered up to her chin. “I wanted to do that,” she protested mildly. “Ripping seams and all.”
The weskit hit the floor, minus a button or two, and his shirt followed. He bent to yank off his boots when the sudden silence caught his attention. He glanced up to see that the silks had risen to just above her nose and all that was visible was a pair of very large, very concerned sapphire eyes.
Calder stopped and braced his hands upon his knees, forcing himself to breathe deeply for a moment, forcing his raging arousal under control. For all her sass and vinegar, his sensually lovely Deirdre was innocent and very likely afraid. He would not have her regret this moment.
“Calder?” Her voice was muffled. “Why are you stopping?”
He straightened when at last he could do so. Bare-chested,
still clad in his trousers and boots, he eased himself to the mattress, leaning on one wrist while he gently tugged the concealing skirts to reveal her face. She gazed up at him somberly, one lip caught between her teeth.
He swept a lock of hair back from her face. “I’m not stopping. I’m only slowing down. Is that all right?”
She swallowed and took a breath, then smiled. “Yes, thank you.”
Deirdre slowly let the mound of gowns slide down until he could see that she’d wriggled out of everything but the chemise and her stockings while he was busy. She hated her sudden shyness, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I’m nervous,” she told him.
He nodded. “I expected you to be.”
She took a breath, rose to her knees and moved toward him until she could feel the heat coming off his skin onto hers. She leaned close but didn’t kiss him. “But I’m not frightened.”
She felt the soft gust that was nearly a laugh. “You don’t get frightened,” he reminded her. “You take vengeance.”
Her words of bravado had come back to haunt her. She longed to tell him that she was often frightened, often worried, sometimes even weak and helpless and needing of protection. He didn’t want to know that, she was sure. He wanted the perfect portrait she’d taken such care to paint for him. He wanted strong, saucy, thorny Deirdre, confident and proud, not the lonely girl who longed to be her true self with him.
Still, if she could make him fall in love with one side of her, could she not someday reveal all?
So she smiled flirtatiously and braved putting her
hand upon his bare chest to feel the iron muscle beneath the silken skin. Struck by the difference between his taut flesh and her own, she let her doubts subside before her burning curiosity.
He was so beautiful, all giant strength and corded sinew. Without thinking, she let her curious fingers trace the beam of his collarbone to his muscled shoulder, then circled back to feel the wiry texture of the hair that covered his broad chest. Settling onto her heels, she bent her head over her examination until, without noticing it, her long hair trailed over his skin.
His rippled belly contracted sharply at that. She passed her palm down over it, only to have him react again. “Are you ticklish, my lord?”
He pressed one large hand over hers to stop her. Surprised, she looked up to see his eyes black and burning, wild lust barely held in check. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth.
Oh dear. Much as she longed to see him lose control in his passion for her—perhaps not this time! She gave up on proving her theory of ticklishness—
someday soon, my lord!
—she spread both her hands wide over the rigid plates of his chest, only to find them too small to cover much. She was not a tiny woman but he was such a fine, large specimen of a man—