Rebecca's Ghost

by Marianne Petit

  She shivered.

  “I promised a relaxing bath, not a cold one, and I--”

  “You will join me?” Though his arms still cradled her face, he broke away from her.

  She made a feeble attempt at pretending shock. “There is room for only one, my lord.”

  “I will make room.”

  “Who would ease the tension from your back?”

  “‘Tis not there I am taut.”

  “Oh.” A blush warmed her cheeks. She retreated, forcing herself to take a step back. “The warm water will ease that.”

  “Hmm…” He eyed the tub. “Passion flowers?”

  She guessed she had overdone it, putting so many petals in the water, but modesty still prevailed. That she stood in a man’s chambers with him about to undress was bad enough, but to see his manliness as clear as day though the water...

  Again, her cheeks warmed. “Pretend you slip into a pond beneath a quaking poplar tree instead of a bath in your chambers, and the summer’s wind has blown these alluring charms,” she waved her hand toward the tub, “upon the water to help soothe your mind and body with their delicate fragrance.”

  “They smell sweet.” Gathering her into his arms, he held her snug. “But not as sweet as you.” He nuzzled her ear. “When I first beheld you lying in the woods, I thought you magical.” His warm breath fanned her neck. “Now I see how strong your powers truly are, for I find myself totally bewitched by you.”

  His lips recaptured hers, demanding more, promising paradise found only in his embrace.

  A violent tremor swept the length of her.

  He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist.

  Her legs quivered. Her fingers gripped the tub’s edge. She was drowning. Drowning in her love for him.

  With a quick flip of her hand upon the water, she scooped some liquid into her palm.

  “God’s bones! What?” His eyes flashed bright with surprise as water dripped from his neck.

  She placed her wet hand on her hip and pointed to the tub.

  “You are a persistent devil,” he said, his voice heavy with desire.

  “Me?” She shrugged.

  Before he could say another word, she turned her back to him.

  She heard him grumbling beneath his breath and was surprised he didn’t grab her, ignoring her demand. A little sting of disappointment bit.

  After a few moments of silence, she heard him slip into the tub. Water slouched to the floor.

  She pivoted on her heel.

  He sat in the center of the tub, studying her. By the wicked gleam in his eyes, and the smirk on his face, she knew he waited for her reaction.

  “Are you sure you won’t join me?” His grin widened. His eyes danced with desire.

  With great composure, she took a step forward.

  His passionate invitation was hard to resist. Wasn’t that why she had come to his chambers, to lie beside him; to shed her clothing and her inhibitions? Wasn’t that what her desire? Her heart pounded with anticipation.

  She wanted to run her hands along his smooth naked skin and tangle her fingers in the small patch of black hair centered on his developed chest.

  “There is plenty room?” he added.

  He started to part the water with his hand. A group of leaves swirled back, leaving the water clear.

  “Nay!” Quickly she stepped to the back of the tub as a spurt of nerves jolted her.

  Playing the coquettish flirt ‘twas more difficult than she’d thought ‘twould be. Perhaps she had better stop before ‘twas too late to turn back.

  “Turn around,” she ordered. “Rest your head and close your eyes.”

  Her heart pounded her ribs.

  Philip sighed, feigning a look of forlornness, then angled his body around and let his head fall back against the tub.

  Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his slick wet shoulders and began to dig her fingers into his corded muscles. The warm water engulfing her hands and the heat from his skin radiated up her fingers. The tepid water swirled over her wrists as she ran her fingers in circular motions along his collarbone.

  His wet skin glistened.

  He groaned, and a mixture of sensations flooded her; uneasiness churned with an effusive ache that grew in the center of her belly; apprehension blended with an intense desire to feel more than just the corded flexing muscles of his shoulders beneath her hands.

  “Your touch is indeed magic.” His shoulders slumped. His taut muscles relaxed beneath her hands.

  ‘Twas magic; his magic. Here she stood, alone, in a man’s chamber and him with naked… She eased her fingers over his collarbone, leaned closer and pressed her hands into his chest. Defiantly magic.

  “I meant to thank you.” She flexed and un-flexed her thumbs and fingers against his skin, feeling his meaty pectoral muscles against her fingertips.

  He groaned. “Nay. I thank you.”

  His large hand gripped her arm.

  Water droplets fell from his wrist and glistened in the dark patch of hair upon his chest.

  “Not only have you saved me from the gallows, you have saved my reputation, cleared my name.”

  All that work and now she stood to mark her reputation forever.

  He jerked his hand away. “I mean to call Tisdale out.”

  The cross expression on his face when he turned toward her came out of nowhere, catching her off guard and she merely stared, tongue-tied.

  She knew thoughts of her guardian weighed heavily on his mind, but a duel?

  “He shall feel the bite of my bullet upon his chest.”

  “I--I have no love for him,” she wrung her hands together and shook her head, “but this is not a wise thing you wish to do.”

  Philip began to rise and she scrambled to get a towel.

  Before she could turn around and give the fabric to him, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

  Her breath caught. Her body tightened.

  “‘Twill be a fair fight and without repercussions from the law.”

  Her face wrinkled in disgust. “Fools, the lot of you, thinking a duel will somehow prove you honorable!” She clenched her hand. Her nails cut into her palm.

  Without thinking, she spun around to face him. “You could get shot. Could die,” she retorted in breathless hysteria. “Where is the honor in dying?”

  Wary, he brushed his finger against her jaw. “Do not fear for me.” His gaze brushed over her face like a soft caress.

  Her heart leapt, quelling the anger and fear that had taken hold of her heart and mind. A sensuous light passed between them and swept over her like a flame. Her gaze lowered

  His maleness stood ready, waiting.

  She gasped and quickly shoved the towel toward him.

  Suddenly, doubt churned with a nervous energy that made her stomach quake.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Philip wrapped then knotted the towel tightly around his waist. His gaze lingered on Elizabeth’s back.

  When he first beheld her in his chambers, he’d been uneasy. Though their conversation in the hall earlier and the light of desire he’d seen in her eyes had left him hopeful, he had been unsure he’d read her expression correctly. But now…

  Grabbing her by the shoulders, he spun her around.

  Her heavy lashes flew up. The rosy hue upon her cheeks brought color to her porcelain skin.

  The anger he’d seen flash across her face a moment ago when they spoke about his need to duel Tisdale disappeared, replaced by a desire that fueled his hunger, inflamed his emotions.

  Her green eyes sparkled like an emerald under the sun’s rays.

  God’s bones, what a beauty.

  “Let us not talk of Tisdale,” he whispered hoarsely. He took her hand and turned it over, kissing the center of her soft wet palm. His skin pricked, but not from the cold.

  “I--”

  “Shss.” He placed his finger on her lips. “This is our moment.”

  When they spoke about the bath, he’d t
old her he wanted her to stay, not just tonight, but tomorrow and for the days to come, for William’s sake.

  A crippling need to feel her close—crushed up against him, hit the back of his knees with such a paralyzing force, his mind froze; his limbs stiffened.

  Well, for my sake as well, he thought.

  He pulled her roughly into his arms, his heart slamming, pounding against hers. His mouth swooped down to capture her lips, his mind reeled in their sweet softness.

  Her feminine curves molded against his body; a perfect fit. Her closeness was like a drug, numbing his mind, igniting every nerve ending like a sizzling fuse.

  She relaxed against him and kissed him back with a hunger that never ceased to surprise him.

  Her lips broke from his. Her arms slid up around his neck. “Love me,” she whispered in his ear. “Love me like you once started to in the meadow.”

  His gut seized. He leaned back. “Are you certain?” His eyes searched hers.

  She nodded and in one fluid motion, he lifted her from the floor and swung her in the circle of his arms.

  Maneuvering across the room toward the bed, he gently placed her down upon the mattress.

  Seeing the yearning that shone so brightly on her face, he hesitated a moment.

  What had he to offer her, but a place as his mistress?

  He leaned away. Nay. Not for her. Not for my beautiful wood nymph. He started to straighten, distancing himself from her; but when her arms opened wide, welcoming him in, all thoughts of logic disappeared.

  He sat besides her, letting her gather him into her embrace. Again, their lips met and he kissed her with an overwhelming desire that shook him. Gently they fell back against the bed. Side by side, they lay holding one another.

  He nibbled her neck; sucked her earlobes and then found her lips once again.

  “My beautiful Elizabeth. You have bewitched me so,” he whispered, breathless, his throat raspy with wanting.

  She groaned with pleasure. “Nay. ‘Tis you who have swept me away… She kissed him deeply then drew apart. “My head whirls like a leaf upon the wind. And my heart…” She took his hand and placed it on her breast.

  A hot wave of wanting snuck across his belly.

  You do her an injustice. Guilt tugged his chest

  She smiled. “My heart rushes like water freed from the barricade of a past, the likes of which have held me prisoner for so long…” Her eyes widened. “‘Tis a wonder to me, I lie willingly in your arms.”

  “Have I truly made you forget?”

  “The past? To some degree.” Sadness settled over her face and nipped his heart. “But, I am ready to move forward.” She stared with longing at him.

  Her inviting response quickened his pulse. “Are you certain?” He ran his finger along her jaw.

  She gave herself so willingly when he had naught to offer her in return. A pang of guilt once again caused him to have doubts.

  He had stolen her virginity once in error, and now…

  He searched her face for the answer.

  She kissed him, searing her response upon his lips.

  He drew her up from the mattress, leaving her feet to dangle off the bed.

  Slowly he dipped his fingers into her cleavage and drew out the sheer fichu that she had tucked under her bodice and covered her shoulders. He dropped the scarf to the floor.

  The tight brown and gold, striped corset which formed the bodice of her gown, pushed up her breasts. They rose and fell under his scrutiny.

  Gently, he eased her gown off her shoulders.

  His mouth followed his hand as he slid the fabric down her arm.

  He heard her sigh.

  Her creamy white skin felt like satin against his lips.

  His fingers trailed a path down her other arm, to rest at her tiny waist.

  She smelled of sweet roses and an unknown earthy spice that intoxicated him. Inhaling deeply, he dragged himself away.

  He hesitated a moment, guilt shouting, screaming in his ears. Stop. Once in ignorance can a mistake be forgiven, but never with one’s eyes wide open.

  Leaning forward, he unlaced the front of her bodice and pushed the fabric away, revealing her chemise. The dark outline of her taut nipples straining against the thin white cloth sent a jolt of passion to root of his desire.

  Stop! You offer her nothing.

  She slipped her arms from her corset then eased one arm free from her chemise.

  His heart pounded with each layer of clothing she peeled from her luscious body. Her upper torso now naked, his gaze fell to her breasts and as he stared, the voices in his head grew louder.

  Fool, weak fool.

  He reached out and cupped her creamy mounds in his hands. Full in his palms, they felt like heaven in his grip.

  He rubbed her nipples. She moaned. The sound of her sweet ecstasy, weakened his defenses further.

  Her head fell back, her chest arched forward.

  Watching her tips tighten, like pink buds upon two dusky round petals, heightened his pleasure. He was drowning… drowning in an intense wave of unstoppable need that spun his innards and clouded his thoughts.

  He lowered his head. His lips brushed against her swollen peaks. His tongue slid over, then settled on one erect crest and he sucked her deep into his mouth. Gently he clasped the hard tip between his teeth. He pulled gently, lapping her breast like a starving animal at his last meal.

  In three days, she is leaving.

  His heart lurched. His mind reeled. His body ached with an uncontrollable thirst for her.

  How can I bear to let her go?

  He wasn’t sure he could.

  ***

  Through the clouded eyes of desire, Elizabeth gazed down at Philip’s dark head bent at her breast. As he sucked and licked her taut skin, her nipples tingled. Her pulses raced with a wanting that both excited her and left her sad.

  In his arms, she felt safe. In his arms, she’d found contentment.

  She sighed. If only ‘twould last forever.

  “God… Elizabeth…”

  Her name groaned so deeply, so heavy with wanting in the back of his throat, soared her desire to a higher fervor.

  He tugged on her skirt and quickly she helped him untie the ribbon that held her taffeta petticoat in place.

  She wiggled out of her dress; anticipation, racing her heart, causing her breath to catch.

  The embroidered floral fabric dropped around her ankles. She raised her arms and he slid her chemise over her head.

  A balmy breeze embraced her naked flesh, prickling the hairs on her arms.

  Her white linen covering ascended to the floor atop her skirt; the only barrier between them, the towel he wore around his waist.

  In silence, he gazed at her. The intense stillness between them pulsated, quickened their breaths, and pummeled their hearts.

  She closed her eyes.

  His hands were all over her, feeling her shoulders, her arms, her face, her breasts. God, how she loved when he touched her breasts. And he kissed her; kissed her with a hungry ardor that seemed to make her body melt against his hard muscled chest.

  His coarse body hair rubbed roughly against her nipples; his tongue delved in and out of her mouth.

  She ran her fingers up and down his back; cradled the back of his neck in her hand.

  They fell back against the bed.

  Now partially atop her, she could feel his hardness pushing forth against her. He reached beneath her knees and positioned her more squarely on the mattress.

  “I am full with wanting you,” he whispered softly, then kissed her neck.

  “And I for you…” She arched her body closer.

  The bed creaked as he positioned himself over her.

  Supporting himself up by his muscular arms, his hands pressing into the mattress, he gazed down at her, his body close, but yet so far.

  The towel parted, she could see the course black hair that surrounded his male root.

  A sudden uneasiness gripped
her. Her eyes widened. She glanced away.

  Gently, his fingers on her jaw, he turned her face toward him.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said miserably, finding the courage to reveal her thoughts, when the last time they’d made love she’d been too overwhelmed to speak her mind.

  “Then teacher…” he brushed his lips against her. “… Let me teach you.”

  Slowly he eased himself down upon her. He yanked on the towel. The cloth gave way and fell beside him on the bed.

  Their bodies made contact—flesh upon flesh —heat upon heat. She could feel his male organ resting between her legs. Heaviness settled in her pelvis, a gush of wet heat.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Yes, oh yes. Teach me. Teach me everything.

  He trailed a tender path across her stomach - explored her inner thighs with hands that felt warm against her skin.

  When his fingers delved into her womanly folds, she gasped. Her body tightened.

  “Tell me what I should do.” She ran her fingers through his hair, reached up and kissed his tender mouth.

  “Lie back and close your eyes.”

  Obeying, she concentrated on his fingers delving in and out-deeper-deeper still, teasing, rubbing her woman’s rim. She grew wet and a driving force began to build up in her. Her limbs grew taut. Her knees quivered. A pleasurable moan bubbled up from her throat. She opened her eyes.

  Splashes of sunlight gleamed on the ceiling, casting shadows of light like gold embroidery on white lace. A mild afternoon breeze cooled her feverish brow.

  “Touch me…” He nibbled her ear. “Touch me here.” He took hold of her hand and slipped it between their bodies to cup his heat of his loins. “’Twould please me greatly.”

  She wrapped her hand around him. He groaned.

  The quintessence of male virility, he was hard, yet soft. His warmth filled her palm.

  He moved her hand up and down his shaft. Again, he groaned.

  The veins in his wrist and arm bulged.

  “Slower… yes--” his husky voice broke; his eyes closed, “just like that.”

  She felt him elongating beneath her hold and a feeling of power over came her. A feeling she’d never felt before. She was the one in control. Her touch had the power to awaken his body and weaken his defensives. The thought ‘twas like an aphrodisiac causing her heart to thud all over her breast as a drummer’s stick would upon his drum.