'No, it's all right. It's quite safe,' she lied to him, wondering, as she heard the words, what on earth had happened to her ... Wasn't it supposed to be the man who urged the female to abandon caution and give in to passion-his passion? And yet here she was, blatantly lying to him, wanting him so much, loving him so much, that no price was too high to pay for the pleasure of having this special time of loving with him. And if she should conceive his child ...
The fierce, elemental surge of wanting the thought brought shocked her even more than her earlier knowledge that she loved him. She wanted his child. Recklessly, foolishly, dangerously, against everything she believed in and had always lived by she wanted his child. Her child ... her special gift from him. A child conceived out of this loving they would share. A child stolen from him, her conscience warned her, but she refused to listen to it, drowning it out with her own voice as she whispered heatedly in his ear, 'Make love to me, Daniel. Be my lover. Show me all the pleasures that I've never been able to know.'
She heard his indrawn breath, and thrillingly felt the surge of his body against her own, as it reacted immediately to her whispered pleas.
'I hope you know what you're doing,' he muttered thickly against her mouth as she turned to meet his kiss. 'Because there's no way I'm in any state to operate any kind of self-control. Have you any idea just what you're doing to me...or how much I want you?'
'No.' She feathered the word against his lips, taking little teasing bites at them, marvelling a little at her own daring, her own unexpected knowledge of how to be provocative and playful, of instincts she had never even guessed she possessed as she added softly, 'But I am hoping that you're going to show me.'
This time when he kissed her there was no holding back, no limiting of the need she could taste in the hungry possession of his mouth. When she felt his hands unfastening the buttons of the shirt he had so recently fastened around her, she knew immediately that this time there was no clinical restraint in their touch.
The wet sand had dried, rubbed off her skin by the warmth of his shirt, the sun had left her flesh blooming with soft colour. For the first time in her life a man was looking at her naked body with desire, and she knew immediately, without a word being said, that it was desire that darkened his eyes and made his hands tremble slightly as they skimmed her soft curves, lingering almost helplessly on the rounded globes of her breasts, tracing the aureole of her nipples subtly darkened by the sun.
'You've been sunbathing in the nude.'
His voice sounded unfamiliar, rusty and strained as though he was having difficulty in speaking.
'I couldn't resist it. The sun was so warm, and it was so private.'
'Just as I can't resist you,' he told her, the words muffled by the downward movement of his head as his mouth sought first one and then the other sun-darkened nipple.
Was it the effect of the sun that made them so sensitive? she wondered hazily, as liquid heat poured through her and her body arched convulsively beneath his protective hands while his mouth tugged feverishly on her pulsing flesh, so that with every frantic beat of her heart fresh spears of pleasure arced through her. When she closed her eyes against the brilliance of the sun, it only seemed to intensify the sensations rolling through her. Daniel's hands, Daniel's mouth, Daniel's body beneath her exploring fingertips, shuddering fiercely with each fresh caress she gave him.
She felt him lift her in his arms and place her tenderly on the warm grass, its scent rich and strong, mingling with the aromatic perfume of the wild thyme that grew along the cliff-top, but, sharpest and most erotic of all, the scent that was Daniel's alone, male, musky, aroused, and so pleasurable to her senses that she couldn't believe she had lived so many years without knowing its sensual familiarity.
She touched him wonderingly, amazed by how easily her slightest touch aroused him, lazily opening her eyes to watch him and to absorb the pleasure of looking at him while her fingertips stroked over him.
To her delight he made no attempt to conceal his reactions from her, letting her read in the rapid dilation of his pupils what his body was already telling her; that in this special moment of time he was as vulnerable and in need of her as she was of him. When he caught hold of her hand as she stroked her way down over the flat firmness of his belly, she tensed, watching him uncertainly as he carried her hand to his mouth and nibbled gently at her tightly curled fingers until the soft licking motion of his tongue made them relax and he was able to whisper against her palm, 'I want to make love to you more than I can remember wanting anything else in my whole life. I want to kiss you and taste you and show you all the pleasures that there are, but if you go on caressing me the way you are doing right now .. .' He hesitated; focusing on their joined hands, twining his fingers with her own as he added huskily, 'I want to take it slowly, gently... But it's been a long time. In fact--'
He stopped abruptly, even now hesitant about telling her that there had never been a woman like her, that while he had admired, respected and certainly liked the other women with whom he had made love, he had never felt about them the way he felt about her, he had never loved, ached for, hungered for them in the way he did for her. He had never loved them, and yet, even though she had been the one to instigate their lovemaking, even though everything about her told him that physically she was ready to be his lover, emotionally he was still unsure of her, unsure of why she wanted him. Unsure of how much commitment she was actually prepared to make to him.
What he did know was that he wanted a total commitment from her, that he wanted her in his life permanently, as his lover, his wife, the mother of his children, but something warned him against telling her this, against frightening her with the intensity of his feelings.
He didn't want to frighten her either emotionally or physically. He wanted to make this, her first time, so special for her that she would remember it all her life with pleasure and with joy, no matter what the eventual outcome of their relationship might be, and yet here he was with his body threatening to go totally out of control, threatening to behave like that of a callow boy. Now, when he needed all his experience, all his self-control, everything he had ever learned about her sex and how to pleasure it, he found his knowledge drowning beneath the rip-tide of need her lightest touch aroused in his own body. Even now, simply talking to her, he was conscious of how easily he could lose control ... so totally, so completely that in her arms he would lose a little of himself.
Taking a deep breath, he told her unsteadily, 'In fact it might be a good idea if you-if you don't touch me. Not-not this time anyway.'
Not touch him. Angelica felt as though she had been slapped, as though she had done something wrong, something offensive, as though she had trespassed physically on to private territory. What was he trying to say to her? That he didn't like her touching him? That her touch repulsed him? Shades of the past, of Giles, of her own feelings of inadequacy flooded through her. She snatched her hand from his, turning her back on him, struggling to sit up until he took hold of her and shook her, saying huskily, 'Angelica, Angelica. It isn't that I don't want you to touch me, if that's what you're thinking.'
'Isn't it?' she demanded woodenly, refusing to look at him or to relax in his arms. 'You said--'
'I said it might be a good idea if you didn't, but not because I don't want you to.'
'Then why?' she demanded belligerently, refusing to accept the panacea he was offering her.
She heard him sigh and then say tautly, as he took hold of her hand and placed it against the most intimate part of his body, shocking her with both the simplicity and the immediacy of his actions, 'Because when you do, it makes me react like this, and so strongly that I doubt that I can control the effect you have on me long enough to get anywhere near making love to you, and certainly nowhere even close to the way I want to make love to you for your first time. I want to make it so slow and sweet for you, so special and memorable, I want to make it as perfect for you as I can, but every time you touch me my body g
oes so far out of control that I haven't a hope in hell of doing any such thing,' he concluded angrily.
Angelica could only stare at him, caught between shock and delight as she absorbed his words and recognised the truth and sincerity in them.
Without even thinking about what she was doing she held out her arms for him and begged tremulously, 'Daniel, please ... I want you so much.'
She watched as his whole body tensed, dark colour burning up under his skin, a heat far more intense than that held by the sun twisting through her as he reached for her, smoothing the soft skin of her back with hands that trembled as he muttered against her, 'Touch me now and I won't be able to hold you like this.'
His mouth feathered along her throat, sending such delicious ripples of pleasure welling through her that she arched beneath his touch, as sinuously as a small cat, soft sounds of delight tensing her throat muscles as his hands stroked slowly and erotically over her skin, skimming her breasts, caressing her waist and then her hips, stroking the taut length of her thighs and investigating the shadowed, sensitive hollows beneath her knees so that her breath jerked huskily in her throat and her body flowered sweetly beneath his touch, opening easily to his delicate, gentle intimacy.
When he stroked the soft, vulnerable flesh of her inner thighs she gasped once and then quivered silently in shocked pleasure at the realisation of how unbelievably hungry she was for the gentle, rhythmic touch of those sensitive fingers against the intimate heat of her body, and how quickly she wanted more, far more than that light caress.
Later she couldn't remember what she said or did to communicate that need to Daniel, only that almost by instinct he seemed to recognise it and answer it, so that when she felt the first powerful thrust of his body within her own she welcomed it with a soft, low cry of pleasure, letting him guide her and harness her feminine response to his need and her own so that the powerful movement of his body became a rhythm which seemed to echo the beat of her own blood, the pound of her heart, even the sound of the ocean breaking against the cliffs in a way that made her feel so much at one with every force of nature within the universe that it was as though she and Daniel between them were that universe in miniature.
And then suddenly the pace of his lovemaking changed, became more ardent, more urgent. She heard him call out her name, saw the strong cording of the muscles in his neck, felt the same fierce compulsion grip her that was driving him and mindlessly, trustingly, gave herself up to his domination, trusting him so implicitly that the sensation of him driving deep within her evoked only the most evocative and intense emotions of closeness and unity, that the sudden explosion of sensation within her shattering that oneness with him, splintering them into two separate voids where the pleasure that pulsed so vibrantly through her was something so immediate and so personal that she could barely hear it echoed in the fierce sound of exultation he made against her skin, just as her body recognised and received the fierce pulse of his release.
She had a second's sharply intense awareness that this brief span of time could change her life forever; that in this brief second she could have received from him the gift of a new life, a gift that her body would cherish and harvest, and then stupidly she felt the emptiness inside her where his flesh had been, a terrible dolefulness swept over her, an emotional pain and aloneness so intense that it made tears clog her throat and sting her eyes.
Immediately Daniel was wrapping her in his arms, muttering thickly, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so impatient, so-so rough ... If I hurt you .. .'
If he hurt her ... He would hurt her of course, but not physically, not as he imagined. She tried to find the words to tell him that, far from hurting her, he had given her such pleasure, so much pleasure that it was this that made her weep. Like a man glimpsing the full radiance of the sun, only to know that he would never see its like again and mourning that fact. Just as she knew that never again in her whole life would there be a time like this one. That there would never again be a man like Daniel.
The knowledge made her tears flow more freely than ever. She felt Daniel pushing her hair off her face, stroking her damp skin, whispering soft words of regret and concern into her ear, holding her against the hard warmth of his body, the way she wanted to be held for the rest of her life.
'Daniel,' she protested, suddenly conscious of their nudity and the fact that they were after all in a public place, but he seemed to misunderstand her concern because, instead of releasing her, he simply held her more tightly and told her huskily,
'Shush ... It's all right, everything's going to be all right. Next time .. .'
Next time ... There was going to be a next time. She went dizzy with the pleasure the thought conjured up.
'But first we've got to get you back to the cottage. You can't walk back.'
She wanted to tell him that she could, that cut and bruised feet were totally unimportant when you were walking on air, but he was already wrapping her tenderly in his shirt, and then quickly dressing himself before picking her up and, without listening to her protests, carrying her back towards the cottage.
There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she felt so dreadfully tired. She could actually feel her eyes closing no matter how hard she fought to keep them open. She yawned hugely, letting her eyes close ... thoughts drifting in and out of her mind.
She and Daniel had made love. They were lovers. She might even have conceived his child, the child of the man she loved. It amazed her that she should feel so tranquil, so at peace with herself and the rest of the world ... so completely at ease with the thought of having Daniel's child, even when she knew that she would be its sole parent. She would love it so much, just as much, if differently, as she loved Daniel himself.
Daniel. In so many ways it was as though she had known him all her life ... been a part of him all her life. When she eventually left him it would be like losing a part of herself.
CHAPTER NINE
VERY carefully Daniel placed his precious burden down on her bed, and then slowly straightening gazed down into her sleeping face. No matter what the consequences of this afternoon, he couldn't regret the fact that they had made love. Tenderly he brushed the hair back off Angelica's face. When she had cried he had thought he had hurt her, until he had looked into her eyes and seen the dazed, incandescent pleasure that still glowed there. Then-then he had known, and his heart had turned over inside him with love and joy.
When he removed the hand that was cupping her face she moved restlessly in her sleep as though searching for him.
All the time in Cardiff he had been thinking about her, wanting to get back to her, and when he had eventually managed to wind up his final meeting ahead of schedule, instead of returning here in the morning as he had intended, he had decided to set out right there and then, driving as fast as safety allowed in order to get back to her.
To reach the cottage and find her missing had been like walking into a room and finding only cold, dead ashes in its hearth where one had expected the warmth of a fire. At first he had assumed she must have gone to the farm, but when he got there to be told that they hadn't seen her all day his feeling of disappointment and anxiety had sharpened into actual fear. A fear that for some reason she had left the cottage completely, perhaps gone back to London, to ...
She said she no longer loved the other man and he believed that that was the truth; she could never have responded to him in the way that she had done if she truly loved someone else, but did she in her heart of hearts accept that she didn't love Giles any more?
He wasn't so sure. To hear from the Davieses that she might be on the beach had sent him hurrying back to find her.
The sight of that small cove under its surging cover of water as it was lashed by the incoming tide was something that would stay with his memory for the rest of his life, along with the anguish of believing that fate had repeated itself and that he was once again powerless to prevent the death of someone he loved. And then he had seen her struggling
up the cliff path wrapped in that damp towel, her feet bare, her hair hanging down on to her shoulders, so that she'd looked more like a mermaid than a mortal woman, and all the emotions he had been holding under control since he'd first met her, since she had virtually collapsed into his arms on his doorstep, burst into frenzied life and he hadn't known which emotion was the strongest-his anger or his relief. All he had known was that he loved her so intensely that without her the rest of his life would be a meaningless emptiness, that his heart and soul would be laid to waste and would wither and die without her love to nourish them. And so he had ignored all the dictates of wisdom and caution and he had made love to her. Not as he had imagined doing in the privacy of a luxurious bedroom on a bed covered in clean, soft sheets, but on the sun-baked earth with the scents of nature all around them. And when he touched her it hadn't been with the finesse he had hoped for but with passion and need that had so overwhelmed him he had felt as though his inexperience were as great as her own.
Nothing in his life had ever come close to preparing him for the emotions he had felt when he held her in his arms, when he caressed her skin, when he felt her response to him as a man.
Tomorrow they would have to talk. The time for caution was gone, swept away by their tumultuous coming together. He looked down at the bed, tempted to lie down beside her, to wake up in the morning with her lying at his side, but there were still too many things they needed to sort out, and waking up in bed beside her was far more likely to lead to his making love to her again than it was to any kind of sensible, mature conversation.
He wanted so desperately to hear her saying that she loved him as much as he did her, but he wanted her to make that commitment freely, not to have it coerced from her.
Sighing faintly, he stood up. The specialist had been very hopeful about the way his torn muscles were starting to mend. With time and care, in another six months he would scarcely have any after-effects at all, and certainly no permanent damage, but he had warned Daniel against the effects of overwork, of stress and strain, pointing out that mental stress could have just as detrimental an effect on the human body as physical strain.
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