Chapter Sixteen #2
“I am trying,” he growled, “to respect your wishes and not ravish you to within an inch of your life.” His gaze swept over her, insolent, appraising, and she became acutely aware of her bare feet and the tendrils of hair escaping from her long, thick plait.
“It is difficult, however,” he continued, in an even tone, “when you appear in my bedchamber in no more than a transparent nightgown.”
“Oh.” The color burned her cheeks. She felt like a naive fool. “I see.”
“Yes,” he mocked. “And I apologize for finding you so entirely irresistible. It is making my life hell.” He stood up. Lucy took an instinctive step back. That checked him. One dark eyebrow rose. She realized he was not drunk, and the relief swept through her leaving her weak.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll go now.” But she did not move.
He waited, giving her plenty of time to decide while her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it.
And still she did not move. She could not take her gaze from his face, the expression so hard, carved from granite.
It did not frighten her now. She knew that behind that strength lay a tenderness that made her heart ache.
It took him only two strides to cross the space between them and take her in his arms, and when he did she gave a gasp of relief as she pressed closer to him, her arms going around him and straining him closer still.
“Why are you staying?” He spoke softly, against her hair.
“Because we promised to try...” She was shaking. “Because I want to be with you. Because I trust you.”
He held her a little away from him. His eyes were gentle. “I won’t make love to you, Lucy,” he said. “It’s too soon. You are not ready.”
She knew that he was right. She wanted him, but it was not enough to banish the memories that hovered like dark wings about her mind. It was not enough to eradicate the fear. Not yet.
“I know,” she said. A part of her wanted nothing more than for him to ravish her completely, but she did not want to regret it later.
“But last night...” She stopped, remembering what he had said about finding her irresistible.
She was asking too much of him, testing his control beyond anything that was fair.
She might know little of men, but she did know that.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It isn’t fair to you. I didn’t realize.”
He scooped her up then and laid her down on the bed, coming down beside her, pulling her into his arms.
“Damn it all,” he said, his breath tickling her ear, “I’d still rather you stayed with me, fair or not.”
* * *
SO HE WAS a fool. Robert looked down at his wife lying on the bed beside him and knew he was in for another night of frustration and discomfort.
Yet it was a small price to pay. Lucy had reached out to him.
For the first time she had come to him freely.
The realization that she was prepared to entrust herself to him made his heart bound.
If it meant that eventually he could drive out the darkness inside her and replace it with light and hope, it had been worth it—even if he expired of thwarted desire in the process.
There were no guarantees in life; he knew that better than anyone, but he was determined that Lucy’s life would not be blighted by fear.
He reached out and took the ribbon that tied her plait between his finger and thumb, tugging on the end of it, loosening the bow.
He started to unravel the plait, working with concentrated intent, running his fingers through her hair as he had always longed to do.
It was as soft and silky as he had imagined, rippling through his hands like burnished fire. The color, the texture, fascinated him.
Lucy lay still, her eyes dark and wide as she watched him.
Eventually he consciously gave in to the impulse to lower his head and kiss her, and she shifted on the bed and made a noise of surrender in her throat, as though she had been waiting only for this moment.
The touch of her mouth was sweet and hot, branding him.
He was already hard, but he held his control in an iron grip and grimly told himself that it was good to discover reserves of restraint he had no idea he possessed.
Leaving her briefly, he divested himself of his jacket, shirt and boots as he had done the previous night.
This time when he came back to her, she reached eagerly for him, running her hands over his bare shoulders, his arms and back, exploring him.
Robert gritted his teeth and allowed her free rein.
Her touch was full of an innocent curiosity that was as tempting as it was beguiling.
“So smooth. So hot.” Her voice was a whisper. Her hand slid across his stomach, just above the band of his trousers, and his cock jumped. He caught her wrist in a tight grip.
“Enough,” he said. “Unless you want to test my honor too far and prove me a liar.”
She blinked, her eyes opening wide. “Oh.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and he almost groaned aloud.
Instead he kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth, exploring her deeply, until she was shifting restlessly against the sheets, her hands moving over him in urgent, restless caresses.
He drew back. The shutters were not closed and in the blue of half-light she looked tumbled and tempting and ripe for ravishment.
Her eyes were slumberous with passion, her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath the shimmering white of her night rail.
Robert took a deep, hard breath to steady himself. These were dangerous games.
He touched her cheek. “How are you, sweetheart?”
She smiled at him and raised a hand to rest it against his bare chest. “I am very well, thank you,” she whispered. “I feel...quite safe.”
God help him. He felt very far from safe. If he felt any more tender and protective toward her, he would be completely undone. He pressed a kiss against the curve of the throat, felt the heat of her skin, tasted the salty sweetness and felt his body surge.
“Do you wish me to stop?” He barely recognized his own voice, it was so rough with repressed desire.
“No.” Her lips curved. “Not if it pleases you to continue.” There was a glint of challenge in her eyes and no fear at all. She was all feminine triumph for his weakness.
“It pleases me,” he ground out. “You please me very much.”
He put a hand to the ribbon that tied her nightgown and pulled it.
The neckline gaped. He glimpsed her body beneath, all secret shadows and curves.
He ached for it. Slowly, carefully, he traced a line from beneath her chin, dipping into the hollow of her throat and dropping lower and lower to the valley between her breasts.
He heard her catch her breath. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin linen of the nightgown.
He bent his head, taking one tight peak in his mouth, feeling the material against his teeth as he bit down very gently on her nipple.
Lucy’s gasp of shocked pleasure was all the reward he needed; once again he felt like a god.
She arched up from the bed, her body open to him, begging for more.
“Oh...” She sounded shaken. “Oh please...don’t stop.”
Robert pulled down the nightgown so that she was bare to the waist. The candle was burning down now and the shadows had sunk deep and the room was gray and black.
Lucy looked pale and ethereal in the half-light.
Robert wanted to see her, but he did not dare break the mood to relight the candle.
Instead he stroked her shoulders lightly, reverently, his caresses leading back by slow degrees to the voluptuous swell of her breasts.
He stroked upward from her ribs, following the underside of her breasts to their tip, his touch feathering the nipple.
She groaned, her breath coming in quick pants.
He repeated the caress, again and again, feeling her tighten beneath the tips of his fingers, gentle yet certain, driving her to fulfill a need she had not yet recognized.
When his lips traced the same pattern over her ribs to the tips of her breasts, she once again cried out, rising from the bed, her body silently begging for more.
He gave it to her, little nips and sucks and bites that had her squirming, forgetful of her fears, lost beneath his touch.
She tasted of hot skin and roses and sweet arousal, and he was so hard he wanted to bury himself in her.
But he did not forget this was only the beginning.
It would take only the slightest misstep to awaken her to her fears again.
Her fingers dug into the sheet as his lips dropped from her breasts to stroke the curve of her stomach and his tongue flicked wickedly into her belly button.
The nightgown was wrapped about her thighs, knotted from the frantic writhing of her body.
He wondered if she was aware that she had parted her thighs in instinctive invitation.
She lay panting on the tangled sheets, her eyes tight shut and a small frown furrowing her brow.
“I want...” Her voice was slurred as though she were drunk, as though what she wanted eluded any words she knew.
Robert slid one hand over her leg, his palm firm against the soft skin of her inner thigh. She shook uncontrollably, raising her hips in mute plea.
He leaned forward, kissing the hot damp skin of her neck where the tendrils of hair clung. His lips brushed the curve of her ear.
“You want surcease.” Between them there was not going to be any false modesty or inhibition. If she were to trust him, it would have to be openly and honestly, with no pretense, admitting to her needs and pleasures. He could not lay the ghosts of the past to rest any other way.