Sattler, Veronica

by The Bargain

  "Want you? Oh, sweet, merciful God, I cannot think for wanting you!" And with a strong, masterful movement, he drew her beneath him on the bed.

  Ashleigh's senses danced at his words. He did want her! He... But then the time for thinking was torn from her as she felt him begin to show her what he meant. She saw him looking down at her for a moment, his eyes a flaming message of desire. Then he lowered his head as his hands caught hers gently on either side, and she felt the hard warmth of his mouth covering her own.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever; it began as a strong, insistent demand, plying her lips apart as it sought their inner softness, forcing her to yield what he sought.

  Then she felt his tongue seeking entrance; it lightly touched the tips of her teeth, then began to explore the sweet inner recesses of her mouth, languorously teasing, then withdrawing, then seeking entrance again. And all the while his lips moved softly over hers, tasting, plying the sweetness from them again and again.

  Then she felt his hand begin to move, sliding gently through the hair at the sides of her head, moving down to her shoulders and caressing them while his mouth traced a slowly moving trail of scorching kisses across her ear and down the side of her delicate neck and throat.

  "Ashleigh," he murmured, "was ever a woman more beautiful than you? So lovely... so very... very... lovely..."

  As he spoke, his hands drifted lower, seeking softer flesh, until at last he had her breasts beneath his palms and felt their budded peaks under the thin material of her chemise.

  He raised his head and looked into her eyes. "I want to see you, Ashleigh, all of you," he told her, and with a quick movement, he slipped the straps of the chemise down her arms, baring her breasts to his gaze.

  Ashleigh gasped, shocked by the moment of intimacy, but as she began to turn her head to avoid his eyes, he whispered, "No, don't turn from me, sweetheart. I want you to see me looking at you... oh, God, but you're beautiful... so damned beautiful!"

  Ashleigh did as he asked, forcing herself to hold his gaze as his hands returned to her breasts. Slowly, ever so slowly, he stroked their lush roundness, until at last his thumbs found their peaks. These he began to tease with tantalizing strokes, once... twice... and again....

  Suddenly Ashleigh was assaulted by an acute, twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach, and then lower, at the juncture of her thighs. It came again, and she moaned aloud with the sensation.

  She saw Brett smile at her reaction, his eyes fixed on hers as his thumbs worked their sorcery.

  "Do you like this, love?" he asked softly. "Does it give you pleasure?"

  Ashleigh managed to nod before closing her eyes in an effort to contain the ever-building sensation within. "Ohh, Brett," she whispered as she felt his lips at her ear, then her throat, and the tender place where her neck met her shoulder. A hot furnace seemed to be burning somewhere in the lower part of her body, and she began to writhe and move with its heat.

  Then she felt his mouth descend farther and, an instant later, close over the peak where his thumb had played. Gently, he pulled at the aching bud with his lips while his hands began to slip her chemise down past her thighs.

  There were multiple sensations gripping Ashleigh from several places at once. She felt the cool flow of air on her naked thighs as he bared them, felt the rush of candent heat to her body as his mouth moved to the rosy crest of her other breast, felt her belly tighten with need as his hands moved across its flat softness.

  Then she saw him rise above her, his breath coming hard and fast as he began to shed his own clothes. She watched in mute fascination as he bared the hard, muscular expanse of his chest and massive shoulders, saw his eyes glitter with desire as his breeches followed his shirt to the floor. She had a weak, distant memory of having seen him naked before, but she also knew it had never been like this. His huge body looked, to her in the moonlight, like that of some pagan god, all silvery and intoxicatingly male, and rigid with his need of her.

  Then he lowered himself beside her again, and his hands and lips resumed their quest. Soul-drugging kisses captured her mouth again and again, and she felt herself returning them with an ardor she never knew she possessed. In a great wellspring of passion, she threw her arms about his neck, drawing him closer... closer....

  As for Brett, he couldn't get enough of her and had all he could do to force himself to take his time. Her body was so perfect, so sweetly perfect, and the innocent passion of her responses was nearly driving him insane.

  Carefully, ever so gently, he traced his hand down her silken hips and across her thighs. Then, with the softest of movements, he let it come to rest in the dark, silken triangle between.

  Again, Ashleigh gasped, bringing her thighs tightly together with a startled movement, but Brett's voice was at her ear, murmuring, "Easy, now, love... No, don't close to me... I mean to give you pleasure, little one... sweet... unthinkable... pleasure...."

  Then his knowing fingers began their final assault on her senses. Moving them lower still, he gently pried her thighs apart, noticing they were trembling now. With a deft movement, his thumb stroked the hard little protrusion above her nether lips, his mouth at the same moment covering hers in a sweet, pliant kiss.

  At this latest touch, Ashleigh went into a frenzy, opening her mouth to his while arching her back and spreading her aching thighs to his seeking caress. Then she felt his fingers gain entry below, while at the same time his tongue probed her mouth, but gently... oh, ever so gently....

  Brett heard her moan deep in her throat, Felt the wet, slippery femininity below flex and tighten as she pushed herself against his questing hand. At the same time he felt his own hardness throb, its swollen contours near to bursting. And he knew they were ready.

  Carefully shifting his weight, he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders on the mattress and poised above her arching body. Then he drove himself deep into her waiting warmth.

  As she felt his hardness fill her, Ashleigh cried out softly with the relief it brought, but this was only for a moment. Soon she felt an ever greater need burning her loins, sending a sweet, aching pain to the core of her. Then Brett began to move on her, slowly at first, then, as he felt her hands at his back, felt their nails digging into his skin, he moved faster, harder, giving her what she sought.

  The throbbing vortex at her center drew Ashleigh spiraling upward until she felt herself teetering at the brink of something wonderful and unknown, and then she found it. Great, searing spasms of pleasure began to rock her very being, binding her mind and body in a cataclysm of sensation. Upward, far into the heavens she soared with it, giving herself to it completely, giving herself up to the man who took her there.

  Brett felt her pleasure break just as he felt he could no longer contain his own. He felt her coming again and again, and his head reeled with the knowledge. Then, with her yielding, throbbing flesh beneath him, he found his own shuddering release as he joined in the rapture.

  For a long, long time afterward, neither of them moved. Neither could they speak, so complete was the repletion they felt. Then, after a long while—a very long while—Brett raised his head to look at her.

  Ashleigh felt him move and opened her eyes to find his, turquoise-silver in the moonlight, gazing directly at her. And then he smiled, his deeply grooved male dimples causing her breath to catch and hold for a moment before she released it in a long, shivery sigh.

  "Sweet wife," he breathed as he continued to smile at her with those incredible eyes, "I think you've just given me—" he bent to place a soft kiss on her love-swollen lips "—the greatest treasure—" he kissed her softly again "—a man could wish for...." Then he buried his face in her hair, whispering, "Ashleigh, darling, how very perfect I find you."

  And Ashleigh felt herself expand, as if there were a great, buoyant bubble of delight inside her, lifting her upward in ecstasy, giving her soul flight... singing with joy. She'd pleased him! This sometimes dark, often brooding near-stranger she'd wed under the most
doubtful of circumstances had found her pleasing....

  And oh, what he had given her! A "treasure," he said she'd given him? Dear God, but he had given her as much! More... Tonight, in his arms, surely she'd touched Heaven....

  "Brett," she whispered, "Oh, Brett, I never knew...."

  But even as she tried to tell him how she felt, he was pressing further kisses to her temples, her brow, her eyes, and, incredible though it seemed to her, Ashleigh felt renewed longing seep into her limbs. She realized with a start that his manhood was still buried deep within her when she felt it stir again and she moaned softly with this awareness.

  "Ah, Ashleigh, I cannot have enough of you," she heard him say, and then she knew it was the same with her as she welcomed his hands at her breasts, cried out with the latest wash of pleasure they brought.

  He made love to her again and again through the long night, pausing between times to let her sleep, holding her close as she did, but for Brett there was no sleeping, no desire to do so. As many times as he took her, he only found himself wanting her more, and so he merely held her while she dozed, and after a time found himself waking her again with sweet, languid kisses that seemed to touch her very soul. During these times he let his senses fill with her sweet presence, making himself content to find joy in the moment, forcing, to the nether reaches of his mind, by sheer dint of his will, a small voice that threatened, telling him to take his joy while he might, for never could it last.

  Finally, as the dawn began to break, extending its rosy fingers into their chamber, he feared he would never stop unless he removed himself from their bed. But as he rose to leave, he heard her cry out softly, "Brett, no... please, I... want you again...."

  And with a groan of renewed longing, he bent and pulled her into his arms, and the magic began anew....

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ashleigh awakened to a flood of golden sunlight pouring into the chamber like melted butter. It reached her even before she opened her eyes, penetrating her closed lids with its lemony color and warmth. She kept her eyes shut for a moment, savoring what her other senses brought her: the sound of birds chirping outside the open window, the scent of roses carried on the breeze from the gardens below, the feel of silken sheets on her naked skin....

  Suddenly her eyes snapped open as she fully savored this last impression. She was naked in this huge bed with the silken canopy overhead! Naked because... Hastily Ashleigh shut her eyes again, feeling a blush invade her cheeks as she recalled her wedding night. Oh, dear, Heaven, had she really... had they really—

  "Good morning, slugabed," drawled a lazy male voice from across the room.

  Ashleigh opened her eyes a second time to see Brett grinning at her as he leaned casually against the side of the chamber's marble fireplace. He was fully dressed.

  "G-good morning," she stammered, hating the blush she knew was deepening under that direct, turquoise gaze.

  Laughing softly, her husband bent to a nearby table and removed a tea cozy from a small silver teapot on a matching tray, then brought the tray, which also bore a cup and saucer, to a stand beside the bed.

  "Your breakfast tea, Your Grace," he said, an amused tone in his voice as he set it down with a flourish. "You take your tea plain, as I recall."

  "You fixed me tea?" marveled Ashleigh as she rose to a sitting position, her embarrassment forgotten with this surprise.

  "Of course," he said offhandedly as he looked down at her from his height beside the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't know how? You must realize that, as a cabin boy, it was required that I know." He poured the tea into the cup and handed it to her on its saucer.

  As Ashleigh reached for the tea, she suddenly stopped and glanced downward. Her movement had caused the sheet to fall away from her, revealing a pair of rosy-tipped breasts. "Ohh," she moaned, blushing furiously, and reached for the sheet.

  But Brett's free hand shot out and forestalled the action. "Don't," he said, covering lightly the knuckles of her two hands as they clutched the edge of the sheet. "I love looking at you. Your breasts—" he brought the teacup forward again, but his eyes were on her pinkening face "—are beautiful."

  Ashleigh lowered her eyes as the blush deepened, but managed to take the teacup. "Th-thank you," she murmured before taking a quick swallow of the excellent brew, mainly to silence the sound of the cup rattling against its saucer as she held it.

  Brett chuckled and helped her set both cup and saucer back on the tray at the bedside. He was enjoying himself immensely this morning, and he knew the reason for it was sitting before him now. Ashleigh had given him the most satisfying bedding of his life last night, and she was his wife! He recalled with distaste his feelings about husbandly marital duty just a short time ago when he'd gritted his teeth against a future with Elizabeth, and then he recalled the fury with which he'd greeted Patrick's ultimatum. But here he stood, flaunting fate in the face of both those recollections; here was the very opposite of those earlier expectations, in the person of this tiny, fragile beauty who sat blushing before him, to his total delight and not a little amazement.

  "Ashleigh," he said quietly. "Look at me."

  There was a flutter of the dusky eyelashes for several seconds before she raised eyes that were pools of deep blue water.

  But in the next instant, when Brett lowered himself to sit on the bed, she closed them while her hands again grabbed for the sheet.

  "Ah-ah." He grinned, shaking his head. Then, before she realized what was happening, he reached for her, and she found herself sitting in his lap.

  "Mmm, that's better," he murmured against her hair.

  "Oh, but, Brett—" she protested.

  "'But, Brett,' what?" he questioned as his knuckles tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  The blush would not go away. It had been one thing, Ashleigh thought, to be caught up in the throes of passion from his lovemaking last night, when it was dark, but having to endure his physical contact with her nude body now, in full daylight... well, it seemed even more intimate somehow, more invasive of her person... especially since he was fully clothed. Also, she began to perceive an unmistakable scent emanating from the bed where they had made love—and, yes, from her own body.

  "B-Brett, I—well, it's just that I—you see, I've not yet bathed and—and there's a scent about—"

  She broke off to the sound of her husband's delighted laughter.

  Ashleigh's flaring brows drew together in a frown. "I see nothing humorous in it! I smell like—"

  "Us?" he questioned with a roguish grin. At her increasing blush, he laughed again, softly. "Oh, sweetheart, you are a joy, I swear!" His eyes found hers and he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Tell me, what is the source of this latest blush? Does it come from remembering my touch on your pretty nipples?"

  "Brett!" Ashleigh's face deepened to a beet red.

  He grinned at her with shameless delight. "Or does it come from recalling the way your lovely thighs parted for my—"

  "Brett!" she choked. "I beg you... please!"

  He laughed softly while he reached to kiss the tip of her nose. "Please, what?" He grinned, and he began to touch the parts of her flesh he'd named; then Ashleigh moaned helplessly, and succumbed once again to the passion....

  * * * * *

  Later, a very long time later, Ashleigh lay beside her husband in a tangle of sheets on the large bed, thinking. It was a lazy process, a product of the repletion she felt in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  She wondered if she looked as different this morning as she felt inside, for she knew there had been a change. It was a change in the way she conceived of herself; heretofore, at least in her adult life, she'd always assumed she was a self-reliant person where her emotions were concerned; she took total responsibility for her feelings, be they joy, anger, fear—whatever. But now she realized something new was at work, and it had as much to do with the man lying beside her as with herself.

  In the past twenty-four hours, Brett had played t
he chords of pleasure that controlled her body, much as a master musician plies the strings of an instrument to evoke sweet music. She'd had moments of soaring joy and rapture she'd not have imagined herself capable of. What did it signify? What was it about this discovery that now, as she thought about it, unnerved her and sent her scurrying for solace?

  She was afraid she had the answer. By surrendering herself to him so completely, by allowing him such total control over her body and then, more importantly, her emotions, she feared she had surrendered her heart and soul as well: she feared she loved him.

  And why was it fear that accompanied this devastating realization? Ah, that part was very simple: She had every reason to doubt her love was returned. Oh, he'd relished the way their bodies meshed, the hours of blinding passion they'd shared; that much was clear. But never once, through the long night and into this morning, had she had the sense that his deeper emotions were involved. He'd made love again and again to her gladly awakened flesh, murmuring fond words and endearments in the process, but never once had he spoken of love, not once had his eyes conveyed aught but desire... or repletion. No... she was sure of it: Brett Westmont's body had been completely hers last night; but his heart, he held to himself.

  What, then, was she to do with her own newly budding emotions? How was she to live with them, knowing they were not returned? Well, one thing was certain: She would die before she let him see how she felt! She could well imagine the path that would take; at best, he would come to pity her for her youthful foolishness; at worst, he would come to despise her for it. Hadn't she seen the way he'd treated Pamela Marlowe? And for her, it would go worse than for the hapless Pamela; she was his wife and would not be free to seek a new love elsewhere.

  "A penny for your thoughts, sweet," she heard Brett say as he turned on the bed to look at her. He was holding her very close to him, but had raised his head as he spoke, giving her the full benefit of that devastating turquoise gaze.