With This Kiss: A First-In Series Romance Collection

by Kerrigan Byrne

  “You said he tried to drown you, Corie?”

  “Yes, he—he held me down with his foot. The water was so cold, so deep, and my chest hurt so terribly…and then I couldn’t struggle anymore—”

  “God help me, no more, no more.” Donovan hugged her more fiercely, incredulous that he could have been out saving strangers’ lives while the woman he loved…the woman he loved…!

  “He said…he said he hadn’t brought me there to kill me, Donovan, and then—”

  “Tomorrow, Corie, we’ll speak of this tomorrow,” he whispered, cradling her against him like a child. This time she fell quiet, her sobs becoming a great shuddering sigh that tore at him as deeply as anything she’d said. So deep that he felt a sudden wetness in his own eyes as he held her head against his heart, his cheek resting against her hair.

  No wonder she had been soaked to the skin and covered with sand. He should have known she might be in danger, even with so many people around…damn him for not recognizing the peril. He couldn’t think of it anymore! He didn’t want to think about it, not now, not now. He only wanted to hold her, to feel the warmth of her, to have her close.

  Gently he lifted her chin; her beautiful brown eyes, still brimming with tears, met his as he traced the fullness of her lips with his thumb.

  “Corie, I want you to stay with me tonight. I want you near me, to know you’re safe. Please, tell me you’ll stay.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Corisande went utterly still, no more able to breathe at that moment than when she’d fought so futilely beneath the waves.

  She stared up at Donovan, at his lips, so very near now to her own, certain that her heart was pounding as fiercely as his, his rampant heartbeat pulsing in her ear. When his mouth touched hers, so tenderly, so gently, more a whisper than a kiss, she knew she wanted to stay. To be near him, to know that he, too, was safe, to feel the wonder of his arms around her long, long into the night—

  “No!”

  She twisted free of Donovan’s embrace so violently that she fell to the floor, the cry that had ripped from her throat as ragged and desperate as her sudden overwhelming thought that she must get away. Dear God, no, she didn’t want these feelings! She didn’t want them!

  Fresh tears blinding her, she scrambled to her feet even as she heard Donovan coming after her, felt him catch her arm, but she wrenched herself away, rushing headlong for the drawing room door. But he was there blocking her way, and she dashed the other way, not heading for the door leading out into the corridor for fear he would block her there, too. She grasped her way frantically along the windows, among the curtains, until she found two smooth handles and yanked open the balcony doors.

  In seconds, she was gripping the iron railing, thick rain pelting her face as she looked down wildly at the drive below.

  It wasn’t too far. She could jump and then run and run and never stop—

  “Corie! Good God, what are you doing?”

  One leg already over the railing, Corisande fought with all her might as Donovan caught her round the waist and hauled her back onto the balcony, spinning her to face him. He shook her hard, not once but twice, such pain in his voice that she went still while he shook her a third time.

  “Why are you so afraid of me? Why? I would never hurt you!”

  “I—I’m not afraid of you!”

  “Then why are you running from me?”

  She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, glancing behind her and thinking crazily that the railing was still close enough for her to reach if only…

  Corisande cried out as Donovan pulled her against him, his fingers tunneling through her rain-soaked hair, his husky voice almost pleading.

  “Corie, don’t fight me. Don’t run from me. Let me show you that I would never hurt you. That you can trust me! Let me show you…”

  His mouth found hers before she could speak, his kiss filled with such unbridled passion that she knew at once she was lost, those same feelings coming back with a vehemence that she now felt wholly powerless to fight.

  Suddenly she couldn’t be closer to him, nearer to him, her hands moving up his wet, matted chest to the massive breadth of his shoulders as his arms tightened around her.

  The rain was cold, but everything else was so warm, his lips moving so hungrily over hers, his tongue as it thrust deep into her mouth, his skin that seemed to be on fire. She felt on fire, too, despite her soaked nightgown, the sturdy flannel clinging heavily to her body. So heavily that Donovan soon groaned in frustration against her mouth, his hands moving over her wildly as if searching for some way to reach her skin.

  “Come. This damned stuff must go.”

  His lips never leaving hers, she was swept so unexpectedly off her feet that she felt her heart leap to her throat. She threw her arms around his neck, the balcony doors kicked shut behind them as he carried her back inside. She scarcely noticed the sound for her blood pounding fiercely in her ears, or that suddenly she wasn’t being carried anymore but lying upon the bed.

  Only when she felt a small nip at her breast did she flare open her eyes to find Donovan kneeling astride her, looking more swarthily handsome than she could ever remember him, his eyes become as jet-black as his hair.

  “Useless things, nightgowns. Shall we be rid of this one?”

  He had whispered so huskily that she shivered, staring up at him as if cast in some seductive spell. Staring up at him as he bent his head to kiss her, his tongue first sweeping languorously across her lips before he pressed his mouth possessively to hers. He didn’t kiss her long, kneeling over her again as he gathered two fistfuls of flannel and slowly, his eyes full upon her, rent the soaked fabric from collar to hem. Corisande gasped as her body was bared to his gaze.

  Donovan drew in his breath, too, unable to tear his eyes from her…from the translucent whiteness of her skin and her dusky brown nipples to the auburn curls between her thighs, sweet dark curls he longed to touch, longed to feel wet and closing around his sex but not yet, not yet. She lay like a gift before him, a rare, exquisite gift. He would not rush, no matter that he was already so hard and aroused he thought he might explode. No, no, he would not rush.

  He could see that she trembled; he was shaking, too, her sudden, wondrous acquiescence giving him more than hope—that she would entrust him with her body, this woman whom he thought of no longer as a temporary bride.

  God help him, if he made her his wife tonight in every sense of the word, maybe she would one day entrust him with her heart…

  “Are you chilled, Corie?” he asked softly. His gaze moved once more to her breasts, small beautiful saucy breasts with droplets of moisture upon them that must have trickled from his shoulders.

  As she shook her head, he bent over her and flicked away a tiny crystalline drop with his tongue, feeling her start beneath him, her eyes half closing at the sensation. He found another droplet and flicked it away, continuing slowly, teasingly, above her taut lovely nipples, below them and all around them but not touching her there yet, not yet. Only when he came to the last tiny bead of moisture did he gently swirl his tongue around a nipple. Corisande arched her back and moaned deep in her throat while he marveled at the rose-scented sweetness of her skin.

  “No lavender?” he couldn’t resist teasing her in a whisper, not surprised when her eyes flared wide.

  “N-no, I don’t like it either.”

  He chuckled deeply but grew sober when he leaned down to kiss her parted lips, then the rapid pulsebeat at her throat. “Ah, but you will like this, Corie, I promise.”

  He gently began to run his fingers over her body, barely touching her, his hands gliding over her ribs and her belly, then up her breastbone to her throat and shoulders, lightly, softly. He took a moment to free her arms from her sodden sleeves and cast the torn nightgown from the bed, and then ran his fingertips all the way down her beautiful torso to the silken insides of her thighs. He was rewarded when Corisande began to tremble all the more, her breathing coming faster,
much as his own.

  “Ah, Corie, do you like this too?”

  He ran his hands back up to her breasts, touching her, oh, so gently, the pads of his fingers drawing close to her nipples and then circling away in a seductive game of cat and mouse until she tried to push away his hands and writhed beneath him. She jumped, crying out when he finally grazed her nipples with his fingernails. He gave in at last to the urge nearly driving him mad and bent his head to suckle hungrily as Corisande wound her fingers in his hair and brokenly voiced his name.

  He groaned in answer long delicious moments later when, her nipples wet and flushed a deeper brown from his touch, he finally left the bed to pull off his breeches, his swollen sex springing free. He saw her eyes widen, but to his relief she didn’t faint dead away. He knew he was a big man, even when not fully aroused, yet he had no intention of rushing her, of taking the slightest chance of hurting her except to make her sweetly, sweetly suffer. Quickly he returned to the bed and enfolded her in his arms.

  “Shh, Corie, we have all night. Let me show you that you can trust me. Let me…”

  Corisande caught her breath as, once more, Donovan found her lips and kissed her deeply; she was already so lost to the wonder of everything he had been doing to her that she gave no thought of protest. She felt so strange, like nothing she’d ever known before, languid, and yet her skin tingling with his every teasing touch. Just as he was teasing her now, lifting his mouth from hers to roll her gently onto her side, and then shifting his body until he was almost flush against her.

  Again his hands began to move over her, caressing the small of her back and her bottom with so feather-light a touch that she felt goose bumps sweep across her skin. She inhaled sharply when one of his hands slipped between her legs from behind, his fingers gently brushing against her sensitive flesh, his breath upon her neck incredibly warm as he whispered in her ear.

  “Shh, woman, I think you’ll like this too.”

  She did, she couldn’t deny it as Donovan touched her softly, making her squirm against him, a strange heat inside her growing ever hotter. He slid his fingers back, splaying his hand on her bottom and then slipping them to the front once more until she wasn’t only squirming but trembling uncontrollably at the sensations plummeting through her. Over and over he teased her, until she could barely open her eyes when Donovan finally eased her onto her back; she felt drugged from the pleasure.

  Yet she almost screamed when she felt something very hard nudge her at the center of her thighs, nudge her at the swollen, tingling place where his fingers had been only an instant before; she was stunned to find Donovan supporting his massive body on one arm as he half lay on top of her, her legs spread wide. He was holding himself, his eyes burning into hers as he slowly, gently, rubbed that soft aching point with his flesh.

  It was her last conscious thought as she cried out, her fingers digging into the mattress…and nearly Donovan’s last conscious thought as well.

  To have Corisande lying beneath him, trembling, moaning, her beautiful body spread to him, her woman’s flesh so wet and hot and quivering to accept him was the sweetest torture he’d ever been made to bear.

  He made himself move very gently though he was dying to thrust himself deep, deep inside her, entering her only the slightest bit before he pulled himself out, making her suffer, too, as sweetly as he had known she would. He teased her again and again until she was panting his name and clutching wildly at his shoulders, begging him to release her from something he knew she had never experienced before.

  Begging him desperately while her body had begun to shake as he was shaking. His sex was throbbing so mercilessly that it was the most difficult thing he had ever done not to bury himself inside her warmth, her tight softness, and grant himself the release he so craved.

  Only her mounting whimpers made him hold fast, her flesh beginning to pulse and quiver and contract around him until Corisande threw back her head and suddenly arched her hips to meet his. Donovan was unable to contain himself any longer as she screamed incoherently at the height of her surrender. With a ragged gasp he thrust through her maidenhead, his body gone rigid as he was rocked by the deepest, fullest release he had ever known.

  “Ah, God, Corie! Corie…!”

  Corisande heard Donovan’s hoarse cries only dimly through the ecstasy that consumed her, expanding out from an incredible fullness deep inside her that she scarcely realized was his body until she opened her eyes long moments later, feeling entirely sated. Donovan was resting upon his elbows, the weight of him pressing her down into the mattress, a tender smile upon his lips though his eyes held concern.

  “Did I hurt you, Corie?”

  She shook her head, remembering a twinge of pain, but it had been nothing to the pleasure. At once she felt him relax upon her, and she relaxed, too, unable to keep from closing her eyes.

  “Ah, no, woman. No sleep yet.”

  She felt him lift his hips from her slowly, flickering her eyes open in surprise when he sank just as slowly back inside her, but not all the way, his body rubbing against her, teasing once more that soft sensitive place that ached and tingled all over again. She jerked, gasping, and Donovan smiled quite devilishly.

  “We’ve all night, Corie, remember?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Corisande blinked open her eyes, feeling as if she’d just awakened from some extraordinarily unsettling dream.

  Of course, she and Donovan hadn’t… No, no, no, she would never have allowed it, never have—

  “But you did,” she whispered to herself, suddenly afraid to move, afraid to shift even a baby toe as she watched bright patterns of sunlight play across the deep green rug. She knew then that she wasn’t in her room where the rug was cornflower-blue, but in Donovan’s…

  Oh, Lord. And it was morning, a brilliant morning, but how late she couldn’t say. She scarcely remembered falling asleep, but everything else suddenly came flooding back to her, and her face began to burn. Her face, her body, as if Donovan were still kissing her, still touching her, still holding her.

  Corisande squeezed her eyes shut as another memory drifted through her mind, this one vague, hardly a memory at all because she’d been so exhausted, but more unsettling still than any of the others. Had Donovan really said that he loved her?

  Now Corisande did move, her heart racing as she raised her head from the pillow and glanced over her shoulder only to stare almost blindly at the empty space beside her. At the rumpled covers, tossed to the side but bunched against her in such a way that she had been almost certain Donovan was lying next to her, sleeping.

  But she was alone.

  She sat up, her gaze sweeping the silent room.

  Of course she was alone. Damn him! Damn him! Just as she would be alone a few weeks from now when Donovan sailed away from Cornwall, away from Britain. The pain that cut through her heart was more excruciating than any she’d known.

  And she could bear it no longer. Of course the man didn’t love her! Had he said he wanted to stay with her? That he no longer wanted an annulment? She had no vague memories of that, no, none at all, and even if he had said those things, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she loved him too!

  Corisande threw back the covers, her throat tightening not so much at her nakedness or the scarlet splotches of blood staining the white sheets as at the bald-faced lie she had just told herself. She vaulted from the bed and ran for her room, swiping away the ridiculous tears that had sprung to her eyes.

  Oh, yes, she had to end this madness and end it now; she could no longer stay under this roof. She would just have to think of some other way to help the tinners. She hastily poured water into the basin and began to splash herself, making as much of a mess and even more than had Donovan, washing his smell from her, washing all traces of last night from her body and then quickly toweling herself dry.

  At the wardrobe, she skipped over all the lightweight colorful dresses Rose Polkinghorne had made for her and grabbed one of her own.
She donned the familiar gray cloth garment as a sudden commotion of carriages pulling onto the drive carried to her from outside. Tugging on a white stocking, she hopped on one foot to the window, her eyes widening as Arundale footmen came out of the house to meet the half dozen carriages while others began carrying trunks down the wide steps.

  Oh, no, Nigel and Charlotte couldn’t be leaving already! Not when she planned to use them if need be to—

  “Good morning.”

  Corisande spun, dropping the other stocking as she stared at Donovan, stared at how handsome he looked plainly dressed in a full-sleeved white shirt, black breeches, and riding boots, her senses suddenly gone wild.

  “You don’t have to rush so, Corie. Nigel and Charlotte are at breakfast, plenty of time yet to say good-bye. I didn’t want you to miss them so I came upstairs to wake you.”

  His voice was so low and husky, his gaze wandering over her so intimately, that it was all she could do to keep her presence of mind. She bent to retrieve her stocking and then turned away from him to tug it on, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Donovan had raised a jet-black brow, a teasing smile on his face.

  “I don’t really see that such modesty is necessary—”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t, but I don’t bloody care what you think!” Her voice had caught, but that said, Corisande felt much emboldened as she went back to the wardrobe to get her shoes. She wasn’t surprised to find that Donovan’s smile was gone when she whirled to face him again, his expression sober, his eyes grown very dark.

  “Your greeting isn’t exactly what I expected, Corie.”

  “Oh? And what did you expect? After you—you seduced me? Took advantage of me when I was distraught, overwrought, hardly myself—”

  “Good God, are we back to this nonsense again? Of course I didn’t seduce you!”

  He’d shouted, and Corisande jumped, backing up against the door as he sighed heavily and came toward her, his tone much more restrained.