She fumbled with the buttons on the front of her gown until he stayed her hand. He had to hear what lay in her heart. Cupping her face in the palm of his hand, he kissed her soft lips.
“Alex, tell me. Do you love me?” he whispered, his voice rasping against her lips. “I must know.”
“I do,” she said, choking on her tears. “I love you with all my heart.”
He kissed her again, tasting the salt of her tears as they ran down her cheeks and pooled at the corners of her lips. He entangled his hands in her hair and gently nudged her lips open with his until their breath mingled.
While their mouths tasted and explored, he attempted to help Alex out of her wrap. Alex tugged at one sleeve while he tugged at the other, countering each other’s every move.
The harsh rending of seams split the air, and Alex gasped when she pulled back and her gaze landed on the sleeve pooled about her elbow.
Mont Trignon took one look at the tattered wrap and tore the rest of it from her so she wore only the nightdress and two extra sleeves.
“Do not worry, Marie can sew those back on,” he said.
Alex’s slack-jawed amazement at the damage they had done dissolved, and she flopped backward on the bed in a fit of sputtering laughter. Mont Trignon took the opportunity to maneuver over her, his hips pressed against hers, but most of his weight on his elbows.
“Chérie,” he said, brushing her dark hair away from her eyes.
He knew two languages, yet neither contained the right words to express what she meant to him. He would simply have to show her, even if it took a lifetime.
He leaned down to kiss her again. As he stroked her tongue with his, she matched him move for move, sending flames licking through his body. He grew harder until his arousal pushed against her thigh. Instinctively or purposefully, he did not know, she shifted against him until he throbbed with need for her.
He withdrew his lips from hers and nibbled his way from her chin down the creamy expanse of her throat. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, and entwined her hands in his hair, holding him to her. While he teased the V at the base of her neck with his tongue, he undid each of the tiny buttons on the front of her nightdress. She erupted into a fit of muffled giggles when he popped one from the garment, and it shot across the room.
“I hope your sewing skills extend to buttons as well as sleeves,” she whispered.
She stopped giggling when he eased the nightdress off her shoulder and left a hot trail of kisses along her collarbone. He raised his hand to her breast, and her nipple puckered beneath the fabric. Inserting a finger beneath the open neckline, he trailed it along the top edge of her breast, the tips of his fingers just grazing the areola, making the sensitive skin tighten into small folds. With a small moan, she arched her back, and the fabric of the gown pulled back exposing more of her. With one hand, he freed her breast and put his mouth to her. Her breathing quickened as he molded her breast with his hand and suckled it, teasing the other nipple with the fingers of his free hand.
Her silken skin tasted as sweet as honey, and he chafed her sensitive tip with his tongue then sucked harder when she tightened her grip on his hair.
“Mont Trignon,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
“What is it, mon amour?” He forced the words through a tight throat.
Was she having second thoughts? Somewhere he would find the strength to stop if she asked, but it might kill him, and he had not planned to die for her so soon. At least not before he had her using his Christian name.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said.
“I had not imagined that you had,” he replied.
“It’s just that I’m nervous, and I’m not at all sure what to do,” she said.
“Alexandra, do you trust me?” he asked, looking into her anxious eyes.
“Yes. I do,” she said, without hesitation.
“Then your body will know what to do. Just let it lead and trust in me,” he said.
She pulled him back to her breast, and he smiled before taking her nipple back into his mouth.
With any luck, she would never know he had little more experience than she did unless he chose to tell her later.
Alex arched her back again, and he eased her knees apart so his thigh settled between her legs. She pressed against him, and he raised his head and looked at her face. The dark lashes of her closed eyes feathered against cheeks the color of pale pink rose petals. He pressed his thigh against the mound between her legs, and a gasp escaped her open lips.
He nudged his thigh against her again and watched as the flush in her cheeks deepened and her lips turned the color of ripe strawberries.
He reached down and lifted the hem of her nightdress until it gathered about her hips. He considered asking her if he could remove it when she reached down and lifted it over her head. He raised himself to his knees, one leg still braced between her thighs, to give her room. She tossed it and the extra sleeves to the floor where they landed in a heap near the foot of the bed.
Divested of the shapeless gown, she lay back on the bed, her arms at her side, her eyes the color of the darkest chocolate as she invited him to look at her. His chest tightened as he let his gaze drink in every inch of her.
Small in stature, her body was lushly built with breasts that were plump and inviting. Mauve-colored nipples sat atop each mound like perfectly-shaped roses.
Light from the lamp on the bedside table bathed her in a golden glow. Her skin was unmarred except for the flush that ran across her chest and a small mole on her left hipbone where her narrow waist flared out again. Her legs were long and well-toned from a life of hard work.
He realized, as he brought his gaze back to her face, while he had been feasting on the sight of her naked form, she had been doing the same. She had lost her modesty and openly admired the way his manhood jutted out in front of him, a drop of moisture gleaming at its tip. He groaned and fell back on top of her when she licked her lips. She could not possibly realize the effect of that one small gesture.
He reached down beneath her thighs and parted the folds hidden by her damp curls until the soft nub of flesh underneath warmed his fingertips. She eased her legs open in an unspoken invitation. He stroked her, gently at first, so as not to overwhelm her. When Alex moaned, the sound of deep pleasure from the back of her throat, he increased his pressure.
He longed to explore every inch of her, and he maneuvered until his head was level with the middle of her torso. Feathering light kisses across her belly, he sought her opening with his fingers, moistening them around the rim and then sliding one into her inner core. He thought she might have extracted a nail full of flesh when she tightened her grip on his shoulders.
He slid his finger in and out of her tight sheath, experimenting with rhythm and motion, applying pressure to her inner walls, and learning what gave her the most pleasure. In truth, he had never done this with any woman before, so he did not know what to expect, but her unvarnished reaction exceeded his wildest expectations. Her absolute surrender filled him with satisfaction while humbling him at the same time.
Her response made him eager to try other things he had read about in the absurd little book Lafayette had found in a used bookstore. He lowered his head and, parting her curls with his free hand, reached out to tease the sensitive nub with his tongue. The musky, feminine scent of her filled his senses, making him want more.
Alex propped herself on her elbows, and he lifted his head to look into her face. Her brown eyes were almost black with desire, but the uncertain look had returned.
“Can you do that?” she asked, her brows furrowed.
“You love me, right?”
“Of course, I do,” she replied.
“And I love you,” he said.
He kissed the rounded point of her hipbone to soften the matter of fact statement then looked at her face again. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she said, a slow smile forming on her lips.
“Then it is all right. What a man and woman do in their bedroom is between them and no one else.”
Alex lay back on the bed, her slender fingers gripping the sheets, as she let him continue his explorations. Then, her muscles tensed, and she gave a small moan. He grinned with satisfaction. He would have to remember this spot, he decided, flicking the sensitive nub with his thumb.
Mont Trignon slipped a finger into her tight sheath, and Alex writhed as her inner muscles convulsed and tightened around him. He raised his head to watch her face flush and her breathing quicken as she found fulfillment. Mon Dieu! The site of her writhing in ecstasy had his pulse pounding in his ears. He did not know how much more he could take.
He knelt so his knees were between her thighs and pushed them open. To his surprise, she sat up, forcing him back on his heels.
“Not just yet,” she said, a mischievous grin on her face. “If you get to explore, so do I.”
When she gripped him with her hand and stroked his tip with her thumb, he had to put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself.
She smiled and watched him as though she too were learning what pleasured him most. He closed his eyes when the sight of her became too much for his already overwhelmed senses to bear.
She leaned forward, the tips of her breasts brushing across his thighs, and teased his belly just as he had done to her. Then she trailed hot kisses down the line of dark gold curls that extended from his belly button to his groin. He sucked in his breath when she reached the edge of his phallus, watching her hesitate for a moment and wondering what she might do. Then the breath he held exploded from him when she lathed the sensitive tip with her tongue. His groin pulsed with the need to join with her.
“Alex,” he said roughly, pushing her back so she released him. “I have to have you now, or I will not last much longer.”
She allowed him to ease her onto her back again, and he brought his weight over her. He looked into her eyes to see if she was as certain as he was. Only the smile tugging at the corner of her swollen lips softened her intense gaze.
“Mon amour,” he whispered in her ear, as he pushed her thighs further apart and nestled himself between them.
Her dampness against his thigh suggested her readiness, but he steeled himself to hold back, hoping to avoid causing her undue pain. He eased into her, and she sucked in a breath. Then in one rapid motion, he plunged himself through the thin barrier separating her old life from her new.
She tensed beneath him but did not cry out. He pressed his hips against hers, as much to keep her still until the pain went away as to keep himself from withdrawing and thrusting back into her sweet depths before she was ready.
As he relaxed, he lessened the pressure on her hips, and she began to move.
“Please,” she whispered in his ear, as she struggled to produce a rhythm between them.
Needing no more invitation, he reached down, grasped her hips, and coordinated their movements, timing his powerful thrusts to her undulations. He could feel himself letting go, and he tried to hold back, but she would not allow it. As soon as her inner walls began to balloon outward, allowing him to bury himself in her, he reached his release. His heart thudding against his breastbone, he forced himself to keep moving as she reached her own fulfillment.
A delicious heaviness invaded his limbs, and he collapsed against her, rising up on his elbows when her breathing grew raspy beneath him.
“I am sorry about that,” he said. “I did not mean to crush you.”
“Mmmm,” she murmured.
She closed her eyes, and a small smile curled her lips, as if she were a contented cat that had just lapped up a bowl of cream. If he left her like this, she would be asleep within minutes.
“I am also sorry I did not last as long as I should have,” he said, fighting off the leaden drowsiness seeping into his limbs.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening.
At best, only fifteen minutes had passed during their lovemaking, and if the stories his fellow soldiers told were true, he had shown extreme incompetence. Of course, he had his doubts as to the veracity of some of the stories, but he would endeavor to do better next time.
“Really.” He smiled and lifted a strand of auburn hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “But for your first time, perhaps that is for the best.”
He rolled onto his side, and Alex settled her head in the crook of his shoulder.
She stifled a yawn. “I don’t think you have anything to apologize for.”
In awe of the passion they shared, Mont Trignon lay awake, listening to her breathing slow as she drifted into a contented sleep. He spared a glance at her flushed face with her dark sweep of lashes to be sure he had not imagined it but forced himself to look away as an urge to nudge her awake built within him.
He hated to compare his first wife to her, for it was not fair to either of them. He had loved Nicole with all his heart, but now he understood theirs had been a different kind of love.
They had consummated their marriage, but it had been a slow gentle affair, more meant to bind them in the sacrament than for any mutual enjoyment. That had been the first and last time they ever made love. Nicole’s illness made having children out of the question, and he had been too afraid to tempt fate. In the end, he never made advances toward her again, and she never complained. For the few remaining years she had left, they were more beloved companions than lovers.
Although he had the same desires as any man, Mont Trignon had developed a deep self-control. He had never been unfaithful to his wife, and in the four years since her death, another woman had never tempted him-until Alexandra.
He found her a beguiling combination of artlessness and fortitude. Although she may not have admitted it, even to herself, Alex was the kind of woman who could survive anything life threw at her. He admired her strength as well as her intelligence and razor-sharp wit. He enjoyed their subtle jesting, and she understood and appreciated his understated sense of humor.
He stroked her face with his free hand, and she murmured and smiled in her sleep. Most of all, Alexandra seemed to have no idea how truly lovely she was.
He rested his cheek against her soft, sweet-smelling hair and closed his eyes before following her into perhaps the most peaceful and contented sleep of his life.
****
Around mid-day, Alex awoke and nudged Mont Trignon. They had some discussion of whether they should get up, perhaps to find something to eat. Eventually, Alex managed to convince him she wasn’t too tender, and they decided they were hungrier for each other than for food. After making love again, a bit more leisurely this time, they fell back asleep.
The setting sun threw a muted gold light across the wooden floorboards of their room when Alex opened her eyes again.
To her disappointment, Mont Trignon had already risen. She groaned at an unexpected stiffness as she sat up. Perhaps it was for the best. Making love a third time had to be out of the question.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, turning a concerned gaze to her as he donned a leather coat.
“No, not really,” Alex answered with a quick smile, hoping to remove the furrow between his brows. “I am only a little stiff from…overexertion.”
He gave her a wicked grin then held out his arms. “So what do you think of my new look?”
She had never seen the clothing he wore. His white cotton shirt opened to the middle of his breastbone. Over that, he had on a coat made of brushed leather, with tassels running down the sleeves. Gone were his cravat and waistcoat.
Leather breeches stretched across his hips and buttocks, molding tantalizingly to his groin. Instead of shoes with silver buckles, he wore a pair of dark leather boots that came to just below the knee and emphasized the strength in his long lean legs.
“It looks practical,” she said.
It looked far more than practical. It showed off every inch of his elegant form to its best advantage.
“Just practical?” he said,
turning back to the mirror and tugging on the bottom of the coat to straighten it out over his shoulders. “I thought it looked rather well on me. I feel so…American,” he said, his eyes sparkling with delight.
“I wonder if they belonged to Charlie, Joe or Herbert?” Alex mused.
Mont Trignon shrugged. “According to Sadie, they were Charlie’s. What was it she called him?” He paused and pursed his lips. “Oh yes, a mountain man,” he finished with a grin.
“Oh, and she brought some clothes for you as well,” he added, pointing to a gown and chemise laid out at the end of the bed.
Alex crawled out of bed, dragging the sheet with her and wrapping it around herself. Her legs were stiffer than had she stayed up all night giving the tavern a good scrubbing. A sudden twinge nipped at her bottom. When had she used that muscle?
She needn’t have worried about her modesty. Mont Trignon paid little attention as he analyzed his transformation in the mirror. Still, she pulled the sheet off and yanked the chemise over her head with as little wasted movement as possible.
When she looked back at him, his gaze fell on her through the mirror, and her cheeks heated. After all that had passed between them, she couldn’t imagine why a simple look could still unsettle her so. She smiled at the memory of their lovemaking and found herself eager for night to fall.
After lacing her stays, she pulled the borrowed gown over her head and fastened the bodice with pins, then assessed herself in the mirror. The faded yellow homespun did nothing for her complexion.
Sadie had altered the gown to show off Alex’s figure, cutting the bodice so the swell of her bosom rose above it. She looked back at the foot of the bed. As she suspected, Sadie had not added a neckerchief to the ensemble. She chuckled, imaging the hellion Sadie must have been in her youth. Enough of one to catch four husbands.
She glanced up to find the chevalier studying her, his eyes darkened by passion. Alex cocked an eyebrow and shot him a suggestive grin. In her experience, the best remedy for stiffness had always been exercise, and food could wait a little longer.
Le Chevalier Page 29
