Chapter 10 #3
Rafe seemed so certain that everything would be all right.
Alix wanted to believe him, wanted to absorb a little of his strength and confidence, she told herself as she leaned back into the cradle of his arms. “I only asked because I wanted to know if you really thought it would convince them to let us go. What you do for a living makes no difference to me,” she murmured, “I still want my annulment.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Goodnight wife.”
Was she a snob? she wondered. Was she disappointed that he wasn’t a man from her class?
No, she mused, there was something inherently noble about Rafe.
Not just in the way he was risking his life for her, but in the way he carried himself, the proud line of his shoulders, the arrogant turn of his jaw, his ease of command.
The way he swept in and tried to take charge of her, she reminded herself sternly.
She shook her head, her cheek brushing against the solid wall of his chest. She was done with letting men decide the direction of her life.
His long elegant fingers curved around her hand, one finger caressing her palm. A languorous warmth purled up her arm. She felt his lips wandering across the side of her face, then capture her ear, his tongue tracing the sworls and she shivered.
“Rafe,” she started.
“Ah,” he chuckled, “you’ve finally learned to use my name.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered sharply.
“I thought I might demonstrate some of my other qualities.”
His mouth found hers in the darkness, and his tongue slid in, toying with hers, leading it back into his mouth and claiming it for his own.
Alix struggled to free her mouth. “We are not alone.”
“True,” he sighed against her neck. “But when Jervis isn’t on duty, I’ve known him to sleep through the opening shot of a battle.” As if to underscore his words, a sputtering snore drifted from the corner of the storeroom.
“This isn’t right. You promised you wouldn’t touch me.”
He hadn’t meant to touch her, not in this musty storeroom, with guards at the door and Jervis sleeping several feet away. But when she’d leaned against him and he’d felt the silk of her hair and smelled the fragrance of her skin, he’d been swamped by the need to possess her.
“I promised I would try.” Rafe trailed a line of kisses across her jaw, pausing at the line of her neck and settling to play at the hollow of her throat.
“You mustn’t...” Her voice wavered as his hand slid inside her fichu, found the curve of her breast and began to massage its way to her nipple.
“Mustn’t what, Alix? Touch you here?”
She moaned softly.
Rafe untied her fichu then reached behind and unloosened the laces of her dress so that his hands could roam more freely. The soft flesh of her breast filled his hand and he kneaded it gently, catching the nipple between his fingers. “Or here?”
Alix felt the night air prickle against her nipples, felt the nip of his teeth, then the warm wetness of his mouth settle around them swirling and suckling. Desire spiraled through her body, and she arched against him even as she whispered, “No.”
“No?” he murmured questioningly against her breast. “It is not enough?”
His free hand caught at the hem of her dress and slid sinuously up her ankle, stopping to caress the back of her knee and the warm flesh above her garter.
Her skin rippled with arousal. In the darkness it seemed as though his hands and mouth were everywhere, riding her thighs, caressing her belly, brushing the damp curls between her thighs.
She was like a candle burning at both ends, Alix thought wildly, her core slowly turning molten.
Then his finger dipped between her moistened folds.
Alix whimpered and Rafe caught her cries in his mouth.
All she could think about were the fingers between her legs, sliding up, around and down, and his tongue in her mouth matching its rhythm.
She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensations.
Her body ached, and burned, and needed. In the darkness, Alix reached for Rafe, tangling in his clothes, searching for skin, and when she found him, the moans that filled her mouth were not hers alone.
Even as she knew she should pull away, demand he stop, she pressed against his hands and mouth.
His finger slid more deeply inside and Alix arched against him, begging for a release she barely understood.
He lifted her hips and one hand quickened the pace, while his thumb slowly, achingly teased the sensitive nub that seemed to be the volcanic peak of all her sensations.
And then her passions seemed to spill over, sluicing through her body like a mad river of heat, searing beneath her skin and exploding in red stars against her closed eyelids and Alix clung to Rafe as if she were drowning.
And she was drowning, she thought, drowning in the taste and feel of him, swept away from her common sense. She couldn’t allow this, she wouldn’t.
“Sweet, sweet Alix,” he murmured against her hair, rocking her trembling body.
“This is wrong,” she muttered, “I never should have let you touch me.”
“No, it’s not wrong,” he insisted, kissing her damp forehead. “You’re my wife.”
“In name only,” she said, fumbling for the hem of her dress in the dark.
He reached out to caress her. “You feel the attraction, too, Alix. Why fight it?”
“And what is that attraction based on?” her voice quavered.
“Is it fear? Is it gratitude? Is it simply the desire to bury myself in something that will take this nightmare away, even for a moment? Can you tell me that, Monsieur Harcrest, can you? And if I give myself to you, how do I know you won’t abandon me as soon as we reach England?
Or sooner, for that matter,” she said, straining to keep her voice composed.
“I don’t want to be married to you. I just want to find my mother. I want my life back.”
His hands fell to his sides, and he lay silent against the rough stucco wall.
He didn’t know what he could say. He only knew that he’d never felt such a fierce desire for a woman before.
She felt it, too; he’d known it even before he felt her body surge against his as he’d given her pleasure.
Rafe nearly groaned aloud when he thought of how she would respond when he came inside her.
What was it about this girl? He’d agreed to this farce with every intention of giving her an annulment, hadn’t he?
Now every time she mentioned it, he had the irresistible urge to put her under lock and key.
She was driving him to madness, he thought, his body taut with unresolved hardness.
He never should have taken things this far.
The musky scent of Alix lingered on his fingers, and his erection strained uncomfortably against the fabric of his britches.
He heard Anne’s distaste for his touch echoing in his head, and he could well imagine her lips pursing in displeasure at the very thought of the intimacies he and Alix had shared.
He could almost hear Anne’s mocking voice, “You’re behaving like some randy schoolboy, Moreham. ”