If Ever I Should Love You

by Cathy Maxwell

  This was not a good sign.

  Or boded well for his night.

  Roman said, “I shall return in a moment. Here is the key.” He dangled the key in front of her, breaking her trance on the bed. “Lock the door behind me.” He waited for her nod and then went out. He paused outside the door. “Lock the door, Leonie.”

  The key turned.

  Now to see if she would let him back in.

  He wondered if he should test her and then decided he would find out soon enough. He went down the stairs to the water closet to see to his own needs.

  But the moments alone helped clear his thinking.

  God, what a devil of a fix he was in. He was married to a woman who stirred his blood in a way that was not good for his sanity, especially since he worried a bit about hers.

  She was a woman who had been hurt, damaged, and needed him to be the rock she had not known in her life.

  Yes, a rock. An unfeeling, unchanging, unwavering rock. Or, at least, that was the impression she gave him. She acted unaware of how anxious he was to please her. How her well-being was his sole priority.

  Roman clumped back up the stairs. He stopped outside the door, bracing himself for whatever may come . . . because he was not a rock. He was a man who wanted to fully love his wife. He wanted her to bear his children.

  He tapped lightly on the door. “Leonie, let me in.”

  To his relief, she unlocked the door.

  Opening it, he found his wife standing by the bed in the frothiest, filmiest confection of a nightdress any man could hope to see. It was virginal white and yet the thoughts that leapt into his mind were anything but saintly.

  Aye, there was a good amount of lace. It flounced here and there, emphasizing her slim shoulders and the hem where bare toes peeked out to him. But it was the parts that didn’t have lace that interested him most. Two dark circles formed into tight buds against the bodice. The high waist was gathered with more ribbons and lace, but the skirt’s fine material left little to his imagination.

  She was perfectly formed in every way, especially in the curve of her hips and the length of her legs. Good legs. Legs that could wrap around a man and hold him to her core.

  Roman shut the door. He turned the key in the lock without looking and tossed it on the night table beside the candle.

  Reverently, he moved toward his wife.

  She watched with apprehensive eyes but did not back away.

  This was what he’d expected last night. This was what he wanted to have happen.

  They stood almost toe to toe. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his.

  Their first kiss. Her lips were closed but pliant. She was not resisting him. She just needed coaxing. He slid his tongue along her lower lip. It must have tickled, because she gave a twitch, and he took full advantage, attempting to deepen the kiss. He pressed in, his hands on her waist. God, she tasted good . . . so very good—

  Roman was conscious that her eyes were open.

  He opened his eyes and they both all but jumped back, startled by the impact.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly as if she believed she’d done something wrong.

  Roman placed a reassuring hand on her arm to keep her from falling back on the bed. “It is nothing. I was just caught off guard. Do you always keep your eyes open when you kiss?”

  She turned red. “Was that wrong?”

  “Wrong? No, I don’t believe there is a wrong way to do it.” He waited a beat and then offered, “Usually, I close my eyes.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head as if she should have known. “I felt a bit dizzy staring at you so close. I had to look at the ceiling.”

  Roman wasn’t certain how to take that statement. He was relieved of the responsibility of an answer when she said, “Shall we try again?”

  “Oh, absolutely. But first, let me remove my coat.”

  “That makes sense,” she said.

  Dear God, could she see how tight his pants were? He could burst and he had no desire to scare her off before they started.

  The thought was forming in his mind that Leonie might be more naive than he could have credited. Perhaps that was why she seemed unaware of her impact on men? Could she truly be without a clue?

  Of course not. Even when she was seventeen she’d received more than her share of male attention. She had a good head. She knew.

  However, when he took off his coat and untied his neckcloth, he took the opportunity to blow out the candle. Now the only light in the room was from the coals in the hearth. It cast a glow around the room. His movements in shadow danced against the wall.

  Leonie watched the play of shadows. She glanced down to the apex of his thighs. She knew he was aroused.

  “Do I frighten you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think you will hurt me.”

  “I won’t.” He reached out to smooth her burnished hair over her shoulder. “And this is not going to be something I do to you. What happens we do together. It is meant to be pleasurable.”

  Her expression said she wasn’t certain. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered.

  Roman wanted her to be more than fine. “Fine” was a flat word. Fine was keeping your shoes dry in the rain or a lukewarm cup of tea that wasn’t cold enough to reheat.

  This room, the firelight—it was made for seduction. His seduction. He almost couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman, and then, it had been a dissatisfying entanglement without any meaning other than a biological action.

  This was different. He’d lusted after Leonie, but now, he was overwhelmed and honored to find this beautiful creature as his wife. He would care for her, protect her, and bed her.

  She closed her eyes, her lashes fanning across her cheeks, and he was almost undone.

  His lips found hers with a will of their own.

  He’d moved a tad too fast. She gave a start. His hand at her waist kept her from moving back.

  With a herculean effort, he held himself still.

  For a second, they seemed to be breathing together and then her lips softened.

  Now, Roman swept his tongue against the line parting lips and to his everlasting joy she opened to him. They were kissing. Actually kissing in the very best sense of the term.

  Yes, he could take it deeper, but he reminded himself he wanted to go slow.

  His arm circled her waist. He longed to crush her body against his, to press his hard readiness against her hips, but he held back.

  If she had been a more experienced woman, his need was so great he would have had her back on the bed and be deep in by now. Instead, he held himself in check because he wanted them to be the best sort of lovers, and that called for patience from the beginning.

  And they would have a lifetime of making love. He had so much he could show her, so much to share. He’d love her in every way possible.

  He broke the kiss and nibbled a line to her ear. “Help me undress.”

  There was a pause and then she tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waist of his breeches.

  “Good, this is good,” he said, discovering she liked the way he teased her ear. When he lifted her arm to encircle his neck, she willingly pressed her body against his, her breasts flattening against his chest.

  Even nicer.

  He ran his hand down over her buttock. She was naked under the nightdress. Deliciously so. And if he didn’t get his breeches off, he was going to bust the buttons.

  His fingers shook as he started twisting the first one. She rubbed her cheek against his. He had a heavy beard and he worried that his whiskers might scratch her delicate skin. He should have shaved—and then they were kissing again and he forgot he even had whiskers.

  This time, she participated in the kiss. Her lips moved against his. Her arm was still around his neck and she reached up to place a hand on his shoulder.

  That was all the permission he needed to lift her up and carry her the two steps to the bed. He set her on the mattress, their lips not
parting. He touched her with his tongue. She did not shy away but she flinched slightly and he immediately pulled back.

  He broke the kiss and sat on the bed beside her. “I need to undress.” She nodded. Roman pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it aside. Crossing his leg, he gave the heel of his boot a yank. First one hit the floor, then the other.

  Her eyes were dark, darker than he’d ever seen them before. The glow of the fire reflected in them as if she was some otherworldly creature come to earth to grace him with her presence. “Should I undress completely as well?”

  Roman thought his heart would stop.

  His mouth went dry. He had to swallow before he said, “That would be nice.”

  That would be nice. The greatest understatement in the world.

  In response, Leonie whispered, “I do trust you, Roman.”

  “I will never let harm come to you.”

  She nodded as if she believed he meant those words.

  And then she stood, reached for the skirt of her nightdress, and pulled it over her head.

  Roman almost fell to his knees in both gratitude and wonder.

  Chapter 13

  Leonie had known she would have to let her husband have her. It was expected. Her mother had made that clear.

  She hadn’t been looking forward to it with any anticipation. Her one hope was that Roman would be not be angry and rough. Arthur had exposed her to the cruelty of this act.

  Still, she’d had no curiosity about it, until now.

  Roman’s kisses kindled feelings she had trouble defining and yet she yearned for more. They were actually quite pleasant.

  She was very conscious that he was doing his best to not frighten her. She could feel the tension in him. He was probably driven with the same intensity that Arthur had been—except Roman would never hurt her.

  And it was that knowledge that unwound the anxiety inside of her, that freed her to discover she enjoyed his kisses. When he had breathed into her ear, she’d thought she would melt into his arms.

  Now, she could begin to understand why her mother liked doing this so much.

  Now, she found herself liking it, too.

  She also wanted to give as much as she received. There was something about his body heat and the scent of his skin that made her move as close as possible to him. Roman’s kisses also promised that there was so much more to experience and enjoy if she would allow him a bit more freedom.

  It had been this last kiss that had convinced her. When she’d opened to him, it had been as if their souls touched.

  She could have laughed at the poetry of the moment, except the description fit. She was seeing Roman’s soul and it was generous, affectionate, and kind.

  Taking off her nightdress was a bold move. It was also a sign of trust.

  Everything they would become to each other would start with this night.

  The room was warm but that didn’t stop her flesh tightening at the exposure to the air. Leonie shook her hair down around her shoulders. She didn’t drop the gown to the floor but held it in front of her, a bit shy about being so forward.

  Roman beheld her as if she was a work of art. His mouth curved into one of his smiles that she was beginning to adore. His eye met hers. “You are lovely.”

  “Even now?” She knew men thought her a beauty with her clothes on. Clothes hid flaws.

  His response was to take the nightdress from her so that she was completely open to him. “Yes, now.” He dropped the gown to the floor, gathered her in his arms and, sitting on the bed, brought her to his lap. He kissed her with such passion she could barely think, let alone breathe.

  And when he was done, she kissed him back in the same way. She was becoming quite good at kissing.

  Then again, who knew kisses could be as heady as the richest brandy? She could kiss this way forever, morning, noon, and night. No interruptions. No meals. Just deep, satisfying kisses—

  His hand ran along the inside of her thigh. Her initial reaction was to close her legs. He didn’t move his hand. He just left it there. His tongue found hers, coaxing her to taste him the way he was her, and her legs opened.

  He kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. His hand found her most intimate places. “Is this all right?” he breathed against her ear.

  Leonie discovered she’d found a new favorite intimate place. The response to his breath on her ear could only be second best to where his hand was now.

  Delicious hunger unfurled inside her. She would have let him do anything. When his thumb stroked her, she sang her delight in a soft sigh of enjoyment.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked anxiously.

  Her answer was to grab his face with both of her hands, press her breasts, which had suddenly grown full and tight and lusty—yes, lusty!—against him, and kiss him with everything she had.

  Her assault surprised him. He teetered back on the bed and then rolled the two of them onto the mattress. Now, he was kissing her and she was kissing him and his amazing hands made her feel more alive than she’d ever thought possible.

  Leonie had her arms around his neck. She ran them down his back, delighting in the play of muscles beneath her palms. She could not have enough of the warmth of his body. Her hand slid under the waistband of his breeches. The tips of her fingers pressed in the hard flesh of his buttocks—

  He slid his fingers inside her.

  Her instant reaction was to tighten in alarm. What was he doing?

  “Does this hurt?” She lay on her back and he was on his side over her. His fingers were still there.

  Leonie waited for pain expectantly.

  There was none.

  She looked up at him and shook her head.

  A slow smile slid across his face as if he was relieved. “Do you like this?”

  “Like what?”

  He moved his finger inside her, this thumb stroking one very sensitive, intimate spot. She liked that. Very much. Oh, dear, yes.

  Roman knew what she needed better than she. He seemed intent on unleashing a wild surge of emotion inside her. Leonie struggled to control what she didn’t understand. Her fingers curled into the bedclothes.

  “Let it go,” he urged her.

  Leonie wasn’t certain what he meant. She didn’t want any of this to go. She wanted it to last forever and knew that it couldn’t. Pressure was building in her. Part of her wanted to fight it, to return to where she felt safe. And then there was the fragment of her being that wanted more. Just more.

  The word came out as a prayer and then she began repeating it until she wasn’t praying but begging. Roman happily obliged. He knew sorcery. He robbed her of reason and took complete power of her being—

  The pressure exploded into a starburst of unbridled sensation. She felt flushed and prickly and open and energized. Gloriously energized with awareness of her being.

  For a long moment, the sound of their breathing filled the space. She couldn’t speak. She had no words.

  Roman acted as if he’d been as moved by the experience as herself. He drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. She could feel the pounding of his heart. It beat as fast as hers.

  She also wanted even more.

  Leonie felt his hardness against her hip. It pressed against the remaining buttons of his breeches. He was feeling the same urgent hunger she’d experienced only a few moments before.

  What was more? If he could turn her inside out with his hand, what would it feel like to have him in her?

  She no longer feared pain. Instead, she feared going through life without having all of him. And she wanted him right now. She began to unfasten his breeches.

  Roman didn’t stop her. No, he was too busy kissing her shoulder, her neck—another very sensitive spot!—and working his way to her breasts.

  His lips covered her nipple just as she undid the last button. His manhood practically sprang out of his breeches, but Leonie was too lost to what Roman was doing to her to explore.

  Every woman knew that men admi
red breasts.

  But she hadn’t understood why until now. She wished he’d never stop. More amazing, she felt the tugging of his mouth all the way to her very center.

  Someone was sighing, the sound soft and very, very happy—and she realized it was her. She’d even buried her fingers in his hair to bring him closer.

  Abruptly, he pulled away. She wanted him back but he stood and with journeyman efficiency finished undressing.

  Had his eyes once been light gray? They had taken on the depth of storm clouds and Leonie knew what would come next. Her husband was the one pleasing here. He had to see to himself now, and the thought was exciting.

  Roman kicked off his breeches. His buttocks were as perfectly well formed as one of the ancients’ statues—and as hard.

  He faced her and her eyes widened at the sight of his desire. He seemed to know what she was thinking. “Trust me, Leonie.”

  She nodded. He stretched out on the bed beside her and kissed her. As his lips explored hers, his hand found and carried her hand to his shaft. He wrapped her fingers around it.

  Leonie did not know what to think.

  “Touch me,” he whispered against her lips before seeking out her ear. He’d already discovered how compliant she could be when he kissed her there.

  She gave him a light stroke and then drew her hand back when he seemed to bob with a will of his own. Not only did it move, but it didn’t feel as she had imagined it would. It was hard but velvety smooth.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s not very handsome,” she answered. “Nothing like the rest of you.” She liked the heavy muscles of his thighs, especially when they rubbed against hers. His hips were narrow and led up to a broad chest that she knew firsthand was very comfortable and inviting.

  Roman chuckled at her words. “I hope you grow to like him as well. Touch me again.”

  Leonie didn’t know if she wished to do so. Still, she wanted Roman to feel the same pleasure he had given her. She placed her fingers upon it.

  “It” liked her touch. It seemed to stand up straighter as if vying for her attention. She dared to circle its tip—

  Roman’s hand covered hers. “Easy, lass.”