The Reluctant Lark (14 page)

“I’m not jealous! You have to care about someone to be jealous, and I couldn’t care less about you or your sexy models!” She tilted her chin defiantly. “Do you hear me, Rand Challon? I care nothing at all for you.”

He shook her again, this time much harder than before. “You’re lying! You do love me, damn it. You’re
just too stubborn to admit it. You’re scared out of your wits everyone will realize that you’re a live, flesh-and-blood woman and not just a sacrifice on your brother’s funeral pyre.” His face was granite hard as he continued tersely. “Well, I’m tired of waiting for you to say the words. You’re mine, and we both know it.”

He ignored her cry of indignant rage as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her kicking and struggling to her bedroom. After manipulating the doorknob with some difficulty, he entered and kicked the door shut behind him. He put her down just inside the door, and turning the key in the lock, he removed it and stuffed it carelessly in his pocket. The room was dark, but instead of flicking on the light, he moved with the lithe sureness of a cat to the fireplace and knelt to light the logs.

Sheena whirled and pulled and rattled at the knob futilely, before turning to face Challon. “I’ll fight you,” she told him fiercely. “You’ll have to rape me.”

“No, I won’t.” The logs caught fire and flamed up, suddenly lighting the rugged, lean planes of his face. He rose slowly to his feet and came toward her with the easy grace of a man who had all the time in the world. “It will be exactly as it would have been if I hadn’t decided to act like a quixotic ass of a Galahad.”

He had reached her now and picked her up with easy strength and carried her to the chaise longue in front of the fire, subduing her struggles as if they didn’t exist. He set her down and stepped back to look at her. “It will be the same as it’s always going to be for us, Sheena.” His hands were unfastening the buttons of his brown suede shirt, and as he stripped it off and threw it aside he said, “It’s going to be the best damn thing that’s ever happened to either of us.”

The glow of the fire illuminated the brawny, powerful muscles of his hair-roughened chest, and Sheena caught her breath at the sheer, savage beauty of him. The reflection of the fire was in the clear gold blaze of his eyes, and the sun-bleached streaks in his crisp, tawny
mane suddenly came vibrantly alive. He was all power, muscle, and aggressive, driving male as he stood there. The golden man, she thought dazedly, feeling that familiar liquid melting as she looked at him.

“Don’t do this, Rand,” she pleaded faintly, as he knelt before her, his hands busy on the buttons of her shirt. “I don’t want this to happen.”

“You will.” He pushed the blouse aside and deftly unfastened her bra. “We don’t have a choice now.”

“There’s always a choice,” she said huskily. Her anger had inexplicably vanished as she sat almost meekly and watched him as he pushed the blouse and bra down over her arms. It was crazy, but she was suddenly experiencing that same sense of rightness, that ephemeral feeling of homecoming that she had felt that day in the woods.

He went abruptly still and inhaled sharply as his eyes fixed on her small, perfect breasts, their pink rosettes blooming tautly in the flickering firelight. “God, you’re so damn lovely,” he said huskily, his, hands reaching out to cup her breasts in his hands. The hard ruthlessness had vanished from his face as all resistance had fled from hers. “Don’t fight me, sweetheart. The
last
thing I want in the world is to hurt you.” He drew her carefully forward as if she were infinitely fragile, and she flowed toward him as irresistibly as the tide to the shore.

A great shudder shook his body as her bare breasts brushed against his chest, which was moving spasmodically with the force of his ragged breathing. “God, little dove, I didn’t want it to be like this,” he murmured thickly. “But I can’t risk your leaving me as you nearly did tonight. You’ve got to know that we belong to each other in all the ways there are. Don’t hate me, love.”

There was almost a note of pleading in that arrogant voice, and it touched her with a poignancy that caused her throat to tighten with unshed tears. How completely daft it was to feel this surge of maternal tenderness, when her nipples were burning from the abrasive
contact with his tawny pelt and her bones felt as if they’d melted away entirely.

His hands were drawing teasing patterns on her supple back, and his lips were brushing gently at her ear. “Just relax, dove. I promise that there will be nothing but pleasure for you tonight in my arms. I never want you to know anything but pleasure, ever again.”

Sheena could feel the rapid throbbing of his heart against her own, and it had the mesmeric effect of a metronome, while the evocative words both aroused and, conversely, soothed her. Then his hands were at the fastener at the waistband of her jeans. She knew that she should stop him, but somehow she couldn’t remember why. His hands were so deft and certain. The expression on his face was so tender and sure, that it all seemed the most supremely natural thing in the world to let him strip her of her jeans and the tiny satin bikini panties beneath.

Then, his bronze face beautifully intense, he threw the garments aside and with gentle, careful hands moved her up on the chaise longue so that she was half sitting, half reclining. Sheena knew no shyness or embarrassment as he sat down beside her and merely sat looking at her for a long rapt moment as she lay before him in the light of the flickering flames. Instead, there was a fierce, primitive pride racing through her at the knowledge that the sight of her could bring that look of taut hunger and passionate intentness to his face.

“This is another one of my fantasies,” he said raggedly, his golden gaze running over her with a loving intimacy. “But the reality is much more exciting than my imaginings. There’s only one thing missing.”

His head bent slowly to her breast, and his tongue began a teasing arousal of the nipple, which caused a hot shudder of need to ripple through her. Rand must have felt the eager response of her body, for a low, pleased laugh broke from him. His teeth joined in the playful torment, and the gentle nibbling at the already
engorged nipples caused her suddenly to clutch at his shoulders to bring him closer.

He raised his head, and then his lips were on hers in a branding, passionate kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth to search out and joust erotically with her own. They were both breathless when he pushed her gently from him and raised his head once again to look at her. His golden eyes had darkened to amber as his gaze traveled over her swollen breasts, their pink tips taut and aroused, then moved up to her face, which was dreamy and languid with desire.

“Now the fantasy is complete,” he said huskily. “I knew your face would have just that look of passionate gypsy abandonment.” His hand was slightly shaky as he placed it on her silken belly and rubbed the soft skin sensuously. “But the rest of you is so tiny and delicate. You’re like a lovely, perfectly formed child. I never noticed that you had that almost breakable quality.”

“Rand.” Sheena’s voice was throaty with need as his warm hands traveled caressingly down to her thighs, his eyes fixed in fascination on the flesh his hands were kneading and fondling. “I want—”

He leaned forward swiftly and interrupted her with a hard, passionate kiss. “God, Sheena, I can’t stop now.” He groaned. “I can’t help it if you want me to let you go.” His hands were moving over her feverishly, kneading and caressing her body, which was already aroused to an exquisite sensitivity, and she gave a low moan that was almost animallike.

Sheena had no intention of asking him to cease this fiery torment of the senses. Indeed, she didn’t know if she could have mustered the strength to stop him if she had been as reluctant as Rand believed. She was immersed in a whirlpool of sensation. She was vividly aware of her body and each electric response that Rand’s hands and lips was wresting from it. The liquid throbbing ache in her loins was almost unbearable, but she
had no desire to end it. What had Rand said about the exquisite pain of anticipation? she thought hazily.

But it seemed that Rand had reached the end of his patience, for he was scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the four-poster bed across the room. As he laid her down on the red tartan spread, he stepped back, and his hands worked with deft speed at his belt.

It seemed only seconds before he joined her on the bed and gathered her with swift urgency to his hard arousal. She was vividly conscious of the sleek male beauty of his powerful shoulders, lean, tapering waist, and tight, muscular buttocks, all of which were bathed in a flickering patina of gold.

He looked down at her, his eyes curiously searching. “I can’t wait any longer, dove,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me that you know why I’m doing this. Tell me that you understand.”

Sheena met that pleading look with a tranquil serenity in her dark eyes. “I understand,” she whispered.

She did understand, and far more than he was asking of her. Suddenly all the pieces had flowed together, and all confusion and turmoil had vanished as if they had never existed. She knew with rocklike certainty that she loved this man. Why hadn’t she realized it this morning when she had been so torn apart with hurt and jealousy that she had become physically ill? Now it appeared the most logical thing in the world that she should love Rand Challon. He was right, she had come home.

Then one hair-roughened thigh parted her own, and she forgot about everything but the dizzying excitement of hard hands and deft fingers that probed with rhythmic urgency until she was moaning and writhing beneath Rand like a woman demented. When he moved forward between her thighs to broach the final barrier, she surged toward him with such passionate eagerness that he gave a laugh of sheer delight.

When he was finally sheathed in her warmth, he looked down at her with an expression of almost pained
pleasure. “Oh, God, you feel so good,” he gasped. His hips started to plunge with wild urgency. “You’re driving me out of my mind, love.”

She found she couldn’t answer with anything but keening little mating croons, which were eminently satisfying to the man above her. “That’s right, sing for me, little lark,” he whispered, as his hands closed on her hips and lifted her to meet his gyrating thighs. “Let me hear you moan with pleasure, love.”

He was not disappointed as the wild, spiraling tension mounted to breathless peaks of ecstasy. Sheena could feel the tears running helplessly down her face as he brought her to the edge of that final mind-jolting moment only to hold her back at the last instant. It wasn’t until her body was moving as wildly and demandingly as his own in a desperate effort to attain that ultimate glory that he at last took her with him in an erotic star-spangled explosion that left them both panting and clinging to each other like two shipwrecked souls.

Sheena was still crushed in Challon’s arms a few moments later when he rolled over on his side, taking her with him. He lifted his head to stare down at her in lazy contentment. “Stay with me, sweetheart,” he said softly. “God, you feel sweet around me.”

Sheena nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She had no desire to move even the tiniest muscle, she thought with a drowsy euphoria. She had an odd sensation that more than their bodies had been linked in that white-hot merging. It was as if there were a cord now stretched between them binding her mental and emotional responses to Rand’s. She gave a sigh that was more like a contented purr.

Rand kissed her delicate, blue-veined temple. “Lord, I must have been insane to wait so long,” he said huskily. “Do you realize that what we’ve just had is one in a million?”

Sheena’s chuckle was laced with mischief as she said
lightly, “Really? That’s too bad. I was hoping it would be just as good the second time.”

“Brat.” Rand tangled his hand in her curls and tilted her head back to kiss her lightly. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that a moment like this is no time to exercise that puckish Irish humor? Don’t you realize that this is a very solemn moment, woman? You’ve just yielded that nubile body and the prize of your virginity to my insatiable lust.”

“I really didn’t notice,” she said airily. “You must have done it very well.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes dancing. “As for your insatiable lust, it appears to me that you’re more than replete.”

“Only temporarily.” He growled, pressing her head back into his shoulder. “Even we insatiable satyrs have to take a break.”

Sheena gave a throaty giggle. “I’m glad you explained that. I wouldn’t want to think that I’d completely sapped your strength.”

“Sapped!” Rand yelped indignantly, one admonitory hand giving her pert derriere a sharp slap. “We’ll see who is ‘sapped’ by morning, my fine colleen. You won’t be able to get out of bed for a week. I can see right now that I’m going to have to start bending the twig in the way the tree should grow, or you’re going to prove a perfect shrew of a wife.”

Sheena went suddenly still. “Wife?” she asked faintly.

Somehow she hadn’t thought past that first ecstatic realization of her love for Rand. The sudden self-acknowledgment of her feelings followed immediately by the lovemaking that had shaken her to her foundations had blocked all possible repercussions of her actions from her mind.

“Wife,” Challon asserted firmly. “We’ll fly to Las Vegas tomorrow to be married.”

Sheena made a tiny movement of instinctive withdrawal, which was immediately thwarted by Rand’s possessive arms. She shook her head bewilderedly. “You’re going too fast,” she protested. “I can’t just run
off and get married without proper thought.” She rolled away from the warm nearness of his body, and this time he let her go.

Rand’s eyes were narrowed, the lazy contentment wiped entirely from his face. “What’s to think about?” he asked curtly. “I want you, and I know damn well you want me. You can’t deny now that you know I can make you happy.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Even if I have to keep you in bed twenty-four hours a day to accomplish it.”

Sheena sat up, wrapping the tartan spread around her and tucking the material beneath her arms. She ran her hand through her cloud of gypsy curls. “But I have responsibilities,” she said, biting her lip worriedly. “I have a career and Uncle Donal to think about. I can’t just abandon everything we’ve worked for with no notice, whatever.” She turned her troubled gaze on him. “I’ll have to give him time to adjust to the idea. Give me six months or a year to fulfill my commitments and let me gradually ease him into it.”