by Lisa Kleypas
Holly paused uncertainly, realizing that for some reason her words had caused a flush to rise from Zachary's throat to his ears. Taking courage from that telltale wash of color, she forced herself to go on. “I was willing to use any reason I could find to keep from loving you. And then…when you and I…in the summerhouse…” Too distraught to look at him any longer, Holly lowered her head.
“I had never felt that way before,” she said. “I was utterly lost. I had no control over my heart or my thoughts, and so I was frantic to leave you. Ever since then I've tried to step back into my old life, but the fit isn't right anymore. I've changed. Because of you.” Suddenly she could barely see him through a scalding rush of tears. “I've finally realized that there is something worse than possibly losing you…and that is never having you at all.” Her voice cramped and faltered, and she could only whisper. “Please let me stay, Zachary—on any terms you desire. Don't make me live without you. I love you so desperately.”
The room was as quiet as a tomb, with no sound or movement from the man standing several feet away. If he still wanted her, if he still cared, she thought, he would have taken her in his arms by now. The realization made her want to shrink into nothing. A dull, pervasive pain began to seep from her chest. She wondered what she would do after he sent her away, where she would go, how she would go about building a new life for herself and Rose, when all she wanted to do was draw into a ball and howl with bitter regret. Staring hard at the floor, she shuddered with the effort not to break into humiliating sobs.
Zachary's bare feet came into her vision, and she started in surprise, for he had come to her as silently as a cat. He took her left hand, paused and stared down at it wordlessly. Suddenly Holly understood what he was looking at—the gold wedding band that she had never removed since the day her husband had placed it on her finger. Making a wretched sound, she snatched her hand from his and tugged at the ring. It was difficult to remove, and she twisted at it in a spasm of panic before it finally slid free. Dropping the circlet to the floor, she looked at the pale mark it had left on her finger and raised her tear-filled eyes to Zachary's blurred face.
She heard him murmur her name, and then, to her utter astonishment, she saw him sink to his knees and felt his huge hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. He buried his face against her midriff like an exhausted child.
Shocked, Holly reached down to his dark hair. The thick, slightly curling strands were damp against her fingertips, and she stroked them lovingly. “Darling,” she whispered over and over, touching the hot nape of his neck.
Suddenly he rose in a fluid movement and stared into her upturned face. He wore the expression of a man who had journeyed through hellfire, and been scorched in the process.
“Damn you,” he muttered, wiping at her tears with his fingers. “I could throttle you for putting us both through this.”
“You told me not to come back,” she sobbed in painful relief. “I was so afraid to try…Y-you sounded so final…”
“I thought I was losing you. I didn't know what the hell I was saying.” He crushed her against his pounding heart, running his hands over her hair and completely disheveling it.
“You said no s-second chances.”
“A thousand chances for you. A hundred thousand.”
“I'm sorry,” she wept. “I'm so sorry—”
“I want you to marry me,” Zachary said in a guttural voice. “I'm going to bind you with every agreement and contract and ritual known to man.”
“Yes, yes…” Eagerly she pulled his head down to hers, kissing him with all the aching longing she had felt the past month. He made a rough sound and savaged her mouth with brutal passion, hurting her a little, but she was too wild with emotion to mind.
“I want you in my bed,” he said thickly. “Now.”
A crimson flood of color swept over her, and Holly barely managed a nod before he picked her up and carried her to the bed with the single-minded intensity of a starved jungle cat with its prey. It appeared she hadn't much choice in the matter—not that she had any thought of denying him. She loved him beyond propriety, beyond morals or ideals or sanity. She was his utterly, just as he was hers.
He undressed her swiftly, pulling hard at rows of buttons and hooks, tearing cloth when it would not yield quickly enough to his plundering fingers. Gasping at his urgency, Holly tried to help him, sitting on the bed to unlace her shoes, peeling away her garters and stockings, lifting her arms as he tugged her chemise over her head. When she was completely naked, her blushing body reclining back on the mattress, Zachary shed his robe and lowered himself beside her.
The sight of his magnificent body, long and powerful and supremely masculine, caused Holly's eyes to widen. “Oh, Zachary, you're such a beautiful man.” She gathered herself against the wonderful wealth of hair on his chest, playing with the dark curls, brushing her mouth and fingers through them.
A faint groan came from over her head. “You're the beautiful one.” His hands moved gently over her back and hips, savoring the texture of her skin. “I never recovered from my first glance at you, at the Bellemont ball.”
“You saw me then? But it was dark outside.”
“I followed you after I kissed you in the conservatory.” He pushed her to her back, his gaze sweeping over her naked body. “I watched as you went to your carriage, and I thought you were the loveliest thing I had ever seen.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his tongue touching the fragile curve, and Holly trembled.
“And you began to scheme,” she said breathlessly.
“That's right. I thought of a hundred ways to get under your skirts, and I decided the best plan was to hire you. But somewhere in the middle of my efforts to seduce you, I fell in love with you.”
“And your intentions became honorable,” she said, pleased.
“No, I still wanted to get under your skirts.”
“Zachary Bronson,” she exclaimed, and he grinned, bracing his forearms on either side of her head. Holly felt her pulse quicken with anticipation as the length of one hard, hair-dusted leg insinuated between her thighs, and the burning silken weight of his sex pressed intimately against her hip.
“That afternoon in the summerhouse was the best damn thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “But the way you left me right afterward…it was like being cast from heaven straight to hell.”
“I was afraid,” she said remorsefully, pulling his head down and kissing his cheeks and brandy-flavored mouth.
“So was I. I didn't know how I was going to recover from you.”
“You make me sound like an illness,” she said with a wavering smile.
A hot glow appeared in his sable eyes. “I've discovered there's no cure for you, my lady. I thought of going to another woman, but I couldn't. The hell of it is, you're the only one I want.”
“Then you haven't…” Holly was filled with relief. The thoughts of Zachary making love to other women in her absence had tormented her, and she was overwhelmed with gladness that he hadn't.
“No, I haven't,” he informed her, his tone lowering to a growl that was only half-feigned. “I've gone a month without relief, and you're going to pay for it.” Holly's eyes closed, and all her nerves sparked wildly as she heard his threatening whisper in her ear. “For the next few hours, my lady, you're going to be damned busy taking care of my needs.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, that's what I want, too—” Her words were cut short as Zachary bent his head over her breast. His hot breath fanned over the tender nipple until it contracted, and then he took it in his mouth. Holly's entire body tensed as he used the tip of his tongue to feather and tickle the sensitive peak. She put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers splayed wide over the hard slopes of muscle. He drew the taut nipple deeper into his mouth, suckling for long minutes, until he felt her thighs closing rhythmically on either side of his leg.
His hand slid between her legs, expertly finding the touch of moisture hidden among the spri
ngy curls. Whispering softly, he parted the soft feminine flesh to discover the peak that ached so sweetly. He teased her, sliding his fingertip around the tiny nub but never quite touching it, until she gasped and lifted her hips beseechingly. “Please,” she whispered through lips that felt swollen and hot. “Please, Zachary…”
She felt his mouth brush hers, a delicious pressure that made her surge upward in an eager search for more. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth while she responded with utter abandon. His body shifted over hers, and she felt his sex nudge against her, the broad head nestling in the triangle of dark curls. Encouraged by his hoarse murmur, Holly reached down to the heavy shaft, her hand trembling a little as she closed it around the hardness. She stroked him hesitantly, and her face turned scarlet as his own hand covered hers and moved it in a rougher, harder caress.
“Shouldn't I be more gentle with you?” she asked, somehow mortified and excited at the same time.
“Men aren't like women,” he said raspily. “You prefer gentleness…all we require is enthusiasm.”
Wordlessly Holly demonstrated her enthusiasm until he removed her hand with a curse and a groan. “Enough,” he managed to say. “I don't want this to end too soon.”
“I do.” Holly threw her arms around him and spread kisses over his chest and throat. “I want you…oh, Zachary, I want…”
“That feeling I gave you in the summerhouse?” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with wicked knowledge.
Holly nodded against his throat, and spread herself beneath him, her body taut and trembling with the need to be taken, claimed, possessed. He drew his hand in a slow, searching path over her breasts, stomach, abdomen, and she made an excited sound as his palm brushed over the small, curly patch of hair at the apex of her thighs. His fingers were clever and maddeningly elusive, dipping into the curls with light touches, never quite reaching the place that had become hot and embarrassingly saturated. Her hips lifted urgently, searching for the stimulation he with-held, and then she felt his mouth slide over her skin in a trail from her breasts to her stomach. His hands closed over her hips, squeezing and steadying, and Holly jumped in surprise as she felt his mouth drift over the moist curls. She exclaimed something, an incoherent sound that could have been either protest or encouragement, and Zachary's dark head lifted as he glanced at her flushed face.
“My sweet, proper lady,” he said softly, “have I shocked you?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“Put your legs over my shoulders.”
She stared at him in helpless mortification. “Zachary, I couldn't…”
“Now.” And he breathed between her thighs, making her entire body quiver.
She closed her eyes and did it, resting her calves and heels on his muscled back. His fingers stroked and opened her, and then she felt his mouth, the slide of his tongue, and the pleasure of it seized her in a swift, scorching whirl. It did not seem possible that this could be happening to her, this terrible sweet intimacy that threw her into utter confusion. She felt him nibbling, licking, and the sensation thickened and spread inside her until she made sounds she had never made before. Her mewling gasps and pleas seemed to excite her bold lover. He growled a little and gripped her buttocks with his hands, urging her higher against his mouth. His tongue swirled and teased until she felt the pleasure rushing too fast and hot to bear…she gave a wild cry, the torment flowing into quivering release. His mouth remained upon her until the last exquisite tremor had faded and she was left weak and dazed.
Easing her trembling legs away from his back, Zachary moved over her, his powerful sleek body settling into the cradle of her hips. She felt the big, insistent shape of his sex pressing against her. “Zachary, have mercy,” she whispered through dry lips.
“No mercy for you, my lady.” He cupped her head in his hands, kissing her as he pushed inside her wet, swollen flesh. She inhaled sharply, writhing to accommodate him, the plundering invasion stretching her tight. He spread her legs with his own and filled her more deeply, until she moaned into the depths of his mouth. The feel of him excited her, and despite her weariness, she arched in welcome. He began a steady rhythm, his hips delving into hers, the hair on his chest brushing over the hardened tips of her breasts. She tilted her head back in ecstasy as she felt him cover her neck with kisses and gentle bites.
“You're mine,” he whispered, riding her faster, his rhythm turning impatient. “You belong to me…Holly…forever.”
“Yes,” she moaned as he drove the sensation to another peak.
“Tell me.”
“I love you, Zachary…oh…I need you so much…only you…”
He rewarded her with a thrust that reached the tip of her womb, and she convulsed with pleasure, shuddering, pulsing, overwhelmed by a physical joy that had been, until now, unimaginable. His body went incredibly taut over hers, muscles bunching into steely curves, his throat catching on a groan. Her flesh worked sweetly on his, closing around the invading hardness as he pumped and throbbed inside her.
Sighing deeply, Holly wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tightly as the sensations subsided to a warm glow. She felt him try to move off her, and she murmured a protest.
“I'll crush you,” he whispered.
“I don't care.”
Smiling, he moved to his side and kept her with him, their bodies still joined.
“That was even better than in the summerhouse,” Holly said wonderingly.
A quiet laugh rumbled in Zachary's chest. “There are many things I'm going to enjoy teaching you.”
Her faint smile dissolved as she considered the prospect. “Zachary,” she said gravely, “I can't help but wonder if a man like you will be content to stay with just one woman.”
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. Drawing back, he stared into her questioning brown eyes. “I've been searching for you my entire life,” he said seriously. “You're the only one I want, now and forever. If you don't believe me, I'll—”
“I believe you,” she said hastily, touching her fingers to his lips. She smiled into his dark face. “There's no need for proof or promises.”
“It would be no trouble to prove it again.” He nudged deeper inside her, making her gasp a little, and she cuddled against him with a pleasured moan.
“No, I want to talk,” she said breathlessly. “I want to ask you something…”
“Mmmm?” He stroked her buttocks, seeming to delight in the soft shapes in his hands.
“Why did you turn away Mr. Somers when he came to ask for Elizabeth's hand in marriage?”
The question distracted him, and he glanced alertly into her face. His black brows lowered in a slight scowl. “How did you know about that?”
Looping her arms around his neck, she shook her head with a faint smile. “Answer my question, please.”
He swore a little and dropped his head to the pillow. “I turned him away because I'm testing him.”
“Testing him,” Holly repeated. Considering the words, she drew apart from Zachary, wincing a little as his heavy shaft slipped from her body. “But why? You can't possibly think he only wants to marry Elizabeth because of her—your—fortune.”
“It's not outside the realm of possibility.”
“Zachary, you can't manipulate people as if they're pawns in a chess game. Especially people in your own family!”
“I'm only trying to protect Lizzie's interests. If Somers still wants her without my approval—and the dowry that comes with it—then he'll pass the test.”
“Zachary.” Holly shook her head with a disapproving sigh. She drew the bed linens over herself and contemplated him while he lounged unabashedly naked beside her. “Your sister loves this man. You must respect her choice. And even if she and Mr. Somers do pass this test of yours, they will never forgive you for it, and you'll have caused an irreparable breach in the family.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You know,” she murm
ured. Cuddling closer to him, she blew gently into the curls on his chest.
“Dammit, Holly, I've spent my whole life doing things a certain way, and I can't change that. It's my nature to protect myself and my family from all the bastards who'd try to take advantage of us, and I'll admit, I've become set in my ways. If you're going to try and turn me into some kind of milquetoast—”
“Of course not.” She drew her tongue over the jutting edge of his collarbone, and delved into the hollow where his pulse beat strongly. “I wouldn't want to change you in any way.” Pressing her face against his throat, she let her long eyelashes tickle his skin. “But I want so much for your sister to be happy, Zachary. Would you deny her the same joy that you and I have found? Forget this wretched test, and send for Mr. Somers.”
She sensed his inner struggle, the desire to control the situation warring with the gentler side of his nature. As she continued to entreat and caress him, however, he gave a reluctant laugh. His hands came up to her soft white shoulders, pressing her back to the flattened pillow. “I don't like being managed,” he grumbled.
She smiled at him. “I'm not trying to manage you, my darling. I'm only making an appeal to your higher nature.”
The endearment caused his expression to become hungry and absorbed, and the argument seemed to lose interest for him. “As I once told you, my lady, I have no higher nature.”
“But you'll send for Mr. Somers?” she prompted. “And settle things for Elizabeth?”
“Yes. Later.” He dragged away the layers of linen that covered her, and settled a hand over her breast.
“But Zachary,” she said, gasping a little as he spread her knees. “You can't possibly do this again…not so soon after…” The feel of his hard length sliding inside her caused all words to fade into an astonished moan.
