by Mary Campisi
“Let me go, you beast.” She glared at him, chest heaving, her breath coming in choppy gulps.
Noah was breathing hard too. He’d forgotten how exhausting his wife could be, in and out of bed.
Emily bucked underneath him, her knees just missing his groin.
“Keep it up, Emily and I’ll take that behavior as an invitation.”
She froze. Color seeped into her cheeks and spread down her neck.
“Now that we’re both more comfortable”—he reached out with his right hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek—“why don’t you tell me why you didn’t yell for this Cyrus to come to your rescue?”
She looked away. “He is very skilled in tactical maneuvers.”
He waited. Silence stretched in the room like shadows on the wall. “And?” he prompted.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance,” she whispered.
“Would it matter?”
Emily turned toward him and opened her mouth but no words came out.
“Answer me, Emily. Would it matter?” Dear God, please say yes.
Her gaze flitted to his shoulder, his chest, his arm. Anywhere but his face. “On the other hand, you are quite a bit larger than Cyrus, and you might end up hurting him.”
“And you wouldn’t want Cyrus hurt.” Anger spread through his body, one pulse at a time. How ironic that she would protect one man and condemn another. What would she say if he told her the truth about her dear Cyrus?
“Of course not.” Three simple words, spoken with such conviction. Who would have thought they could wound so deeply?
“And me? You wouldn’t mind if I got a jab or two, would you? Maybe another broken nose?” Dammit, she was supposed to love him, she’d admitted it the other day. Had her feelings changed already? Had she only spoken the words so Cyrus would leave her alone? Had she lied? “Look at me.” She buried her head further into the pale green of the counterpane. Noah closed his fingers around her chin and forced her to face him. “Look at me, Emily.”
She turned her face to his and two shimmering tears trailed down her cheeks. Unbidden, he was certain. Unwanted, most definitely. Were the tears for him or Cyrus Mandrey? He had to know. “You would care if something happened to me?”
Emily nodded. Just a little movement of her head, but Noah saw it. “But I wouldn’t want to,” she said, as though afraid to let him see her true feelings. It hurt to hear the words but he couldn’t blame her for her hesitancy.
“Of course, you wouldn’t want to,” he murmured. “God, but I’ve missed you.”
She stiffened beneath him. “It’s not that simple, Noah.”
Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water. “There’s much to discuss,” he said. “Much I need to explain. But right now,” he ran a finger from her satiny cheek to the fine line of her jaw, “I want to know if you’ve missed me half as much as I’ve missed you.”
Her eyes widened with longing before a cloud of indifference blanketed them.
“Did you miss me just a little?”
She shook her head.
Noah ignored the dull ache in his chest. “Not even one little bit?” he coaxed, trying to strip away the fear that shielded the truth.
He waited as she opened her mouth to speak, and watched her lips move, though no sound came out. Sound wasn’t necessary, he’d read her lips and seen the answer. She’d said no. Not just no to his silly little question, for he knew she’d missed him. The answer had been in her eyes, before she put up her guard, but her attempt to deny the truth told him she was saying no to a much larger question. There would be no second chances. All that and she hadn’t uttered a sound.
“No.”
That one whispered word clung to him in his despair like a lifeline around a drowning man. Had Emily spoken or was it his imagination? Noah searched her face for answers.
She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. “I missed you. Very much.” Her voice was hesitant, full of sadness and resignation.
Noah brushed his lips across hers, a soft, gentle balm meant to heal and comfort. “And I missed you, so very, very much,” he murmured, a breath away from her lips. He dipped his head and placed a chaste kiss along the slender line of her jaw. “So very, very much.” He trailed a path to her ear. Emily moaned. He buried his face in her hair.
“Why did you leave?”
Of course she’d want to know why he’d left and where he’d gone. He needed to be honest with her if they were to make a go of their marriage. Problem was, if he told his wife the truth, he’d betray his best friend. As for where he’d been these past several weeks, he couldn’t tell her that either without risking her safety so he’d have to settle for a half-truth until this whole thing was over.
“I can’t say. Not yet.”
Her mouth thinned to a straight line.
“Emily, listen to me. I can’t tell you, yet. But I will. Soon.” Desperation threaded his voice. “All I ask now is that you show patience, a little while longer.”
She turned her head away and closed her eyes.
“I had no choice. If you believe nothing else, believe that. I have dreamed of nothing but holding you in my arms every night. I have felt the pain of my leaving a thousand times, and it has been worse than any hell I could have imagined.” He touched her hair, her cheek, her lips. “Please. Please, Emily. Give me your trust, just once more. I promise you’ll not be sorry.”
“You ask too much,” she whispered.
“Five days. Give me five days with no questions and on the night of the fifth, I will reveal all.” He held his breath, waiting for her response.
“You have three days to tell me the truth.”
Three days wasn’t much time. He’d have to force Kleeton’s hand. But if Emily were willing to consider the bizarre arrangement, who was he to quibble over a few days? At the moment, he could think of nothing but the sound of her sweet voice and the feel of her soft body beneath him.
The tone of her next words reminded him that he might be in her bed but they were still a long way from sharing any intimacy. “Will I see you every night until then?” she asked, her voice cool. “Or will you just pop in whenever it suits you?”
“That will be up to you, dear wife.”
“How did you get in here without Cyrus seeing you?”
Noah smiled. He’d wondered when she’d get around to asking that question. “That’s a secret I can share. The library has a secret passageway leading into the master chambers. If you walk around the bookcases, to the left, you’ll find a small door that will take you right into my room. My uncle had it built several years ago, though no one but myself and now you are aware of its existence.”
“Whatever for?”
“Who knows? Most likely to amuse himself.” Noah grinned. “We Sandletons love a good intrigue.”
“You’re probably all crazy, the whole lot of you.”
He gazed down at her lips. “You’re probably right,” he murmured, lowering his head to taste her mouth. Emily moaned as she parted her lips. Noah teased her bottom lip, tracing it with his tongue, savoring the sweetness before delving into her welcoming mouth. Their tongues touched, gently at first, reveling in the wonder of rediscovery. Soon, it wasn’t enough. Noah groaned and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, thinking he’d burst when Emily began to suck on it.
Without breaking the kiss, he settled himself between her legs and loosened his grip on her arm. He wanted her hands on his body, touching, pleasuring, exploring. He stroked her neck, trailed downward to the ties of her nightgown. Flesh. He loosened the ties and pushed the thin material aside, his fingers skimming her silky skin, working up the undersides of her breast, tracing a nipple. Making Emily moan. He cupped her breast then stroked her hard nipple in tiny circles until she whimpered.
She grabbed at his shoulders, her fingers travelling down his arms, moving to settle on his hips, where she pressed him further into the cleft of her womanhood. Noah lay hard and heavy between her, cursing t
he thin material that separated them. If not for that one little wisp of white, he’d be buried deep inside his wife right now. The thought made him pulse with anticipation and the knowledge that he needed her in a way that was so much more than pure physical desire.
He loved his wife.
Noah worked his hand along her thigh, brushing caresses down her leg as he pulled her gown up to touch naked skin. He stroked the soft, creamy flesh on the inside of her thigh, traced a path from her knee to her ankle and up again. Emily trembled in his arms, making soft little mewling sounds into his mouth. Her hips moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, like a dancer feeling the music in her soul.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he muttered, “I can’t take much more. You’re driving me mad.”
She laughed, a low, throaty sound, heating his blood all the more. Noah lowered his head and took a pink nipple in his mouth, devouring the ripe bud with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.
“Love me, Noah,” she whispered. “Love me. Now.”
The growl that escaped his throat sounded more animal than human. He pulled away and yanked open the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers. He felt like an animal, driven to mate with a need he couldn’t control. Nothing existed but his wife lying before him, her nightgown bunched around her hips, her long legs open and inviting. Noah tossed the shirt to the floor, kicked off his boots and reached for the buttons on his breeches.
“Let me help you.” She placed her hand over his, stilling his fingers. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her smile grew slow and sultry. His cock pulsed inches beneath her fingers, begging for attention. His hand fell away as he stood, mesmerized by the touch of her hand stroking his belly.
The buttons popped open, one agonizing moment at a time. It was heaven. It was hell. He sucked in a breath, his eyes glued to the nimble fingers working the buttons. When the last one popped, his cock sprang free, jutting out like a soldier. Her hand closed around him and her fingers glided over his rigid flesh with slow, even strokes. Blood rushed to his brain, filled his head, pushed out all thoughts, save the need to be inside her.
Noah jerked in her hand, pumping once, twice, a victim to his desire. Her hands felt so damn good on him. Too good. If she didn’t stop right now, it would be over before it started. “Emily,” he said and grabbed her hand.
“You…you didn’t like that?” she whispered, her face turning crimson.
His ragged breathing filled the room. He liked it all right. Every single stroke. Her eyes were on him, deep, soulful eyes that tugged at his heart. And his groin. The mixture of innocent and siren drove him wild. He took in her full, round breasts exposed for his blatant perusal. The creamy mounds of flesh topped with pink rosebuds invited his eyes, his hands, his tongue. Oh yes, he liked everything about Emily.
“Noah?”
His head snapped up from her breasts. What had she asked him? Oh, yes, she wanted to know if he liked her touch. How could he answer a question like that in words that would not offend her? Telling her the truth might scare her. After all, she was still a relative innocent where lovemaking was concerned. She’d only been with him a few times and there was still so very much to learn. Like how to substitute her mouth for her hands. Or lay on her belly with her legs spread wide while he entered her from behind. A groan of need and anticipation escaped him. He was more than cocked and ready.
“Emily, you’re driving me wild. Too wild as a matter of fact.” He wanted to tell her that a few more strokes from those nimble fingers would send his seed spewing all over her like a blast from a cannon. Instead, he opted for a more delicate explanation. “Sweetheart, you want me inside of you. Correct?”
She nodded.
“Well, three more strokes, and it would’ve been too late for that.” She should be able to figure that out.
“Oh. I see,” she said, pulling her gaze from his.
“No, dear wife, I doubt you do.” He yanked off his breeches and knelt between her legs, enjoying the silken feel of her against his callused fingertips. “I want to see you naked. Take off your gown.”
Emily shifted her weight, pulling the nightgown over her head until she lay before him in glorious nakedness. “God, but you’re beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head to mesh his mouth with hers. The kiss deepened, tongue mating with tongue, burning out of control as they ran their hands along each other’s flesh, each touch more desperate than the last.
Reaching his fingers between their bodies, Noah found her swollen nubbin and caressed it with a feather light touch. Emily gasped into his mouth, her hips jerking off the bed. He worked his fingers over the sensitive flesh, stroking his way to her woman’s heat. She was hot and ready, wet with desire. He probed a finger into her heat and her tightness closed around him.
She rose to meet the stroke of his finger. He caught her moans in his mouth, his tongue delving deep, showing her what he would soon do with another part of his body. The rapid, uneven movements of her hips told him she wanted more. “Now, Noah,” she murmured against his lips. “Make love to me, now.”
He pulled back and rose to his knees. Emily Sandleton was his wife. There would be no more separations. He cupped her buttocks and leaned over her welcoming body. She was his. Forever. Her eyes turned smoky with passion as he entered her in one long, slow stroke, burying himself to the very core of her womanhood. Her legs closed around his thighs, hugging him to her, drawing him closer still. Her nails trailed down his back, his hips, his buttocks. He pumped into her, saw her smile, and pulled back. She lifted her hips to coax him back and he pumped again.
With painstaking slowness, he eased out of her, almost all the way, until she moaned. Three times, four, he repeated the sensual torment. When he reached six, his control burst, filling him with a wild need to bury himself deep in her hot, sweet body. He plunged into her, deeper and deeper, losing a piece of himself with each thrust. Emily matched him, thrust for thrust, nails clawing, legs high and snug over his back, mouth fused with his in a savage kiss.
The desire to go on like this, to reach for the stars, the moon, the sky warred with the need to find fulfillment as soon as possible, to float back to earth in peace and harmony.
Emily cried out first, her body rigid, her woman’s heat sending tiny spasms along Noah’s cock. She clung to him as he drove into her one final time before he called out her name and spilled his seed. He drew one last breath and collapsed, his body covering his wife’s like a shield of armor.
“I love you,” he whispered. There. He’d finally said it. Noah closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of lilac mixed with the aftermath of their lovemaking. Very soon they’d put their stormy past behind them and start anew. Just the three of them. His heart clenched at the thought of his child. A real family built on love. The words waltzed around in his head as he drifted off. Real family…built on love. Love. Love. Something wasn’t right. The words didn’t feel right. Love. Understanding rolled over him like Speed Demon’s hoof in his chest.
Emily hadn’t said the words. Not once. There was no “I love you.” No, “By the way, we’re going to have a baby.” Nothing. He only knew about them because she’d admitted those things to Cyrus, her friend and protector. Too bad she hadn’t seen fit to make such an announcement to her husband, the father of her baby. The thought rankled, stirring a coil of anger and jealousy in his gut.
What the hell did she think she was doing by telling Cyrus Mandrey and not him? He wouldn’t tolerate it. Absolutely not. Noah opened his eyes to find Emily staring straight ahead. So much for the slim hope that she’d fallen asleep and not heard his profession of love. She’d heard it all right, and she’d ignored it.
This was ridiculous. She loved him, he’d heard it himself. Well, in a manner of speaking he’d heard it. It was of little consequence that Emily had spoken the words to Cyrus. The fact of the matter was that she had spoken the words. And she would speak them again. To him.
“Emily?” Perhaps she just needed a little coaxing.
; “Yes?” She stared straight ahead.
“Did you hear me a moment ago?” He tried to hide the hint of annoyance from his voice. “When I said I loved you?”
She nodded.
“And?” Just say the words.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you? I just told you I loved you and all you have to say is thank you?”
Her eyes darted to his chin. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Despair pounded in his chest. Damn her, she was not going to tell him. He’d opened his heart, and she’d replied with a thank you as though he’d merely poured her a cup of tea? His eyes narrowed on her. “I assure you, any other woman would be dying to hear those words from me.”
That got her. Her eyes darkened like a storm cloud about to burst, and her words spilled out in a downpour of emotion. “Then perhaps you should take your words and speak them to someone else.”
“Fine. Maybe I will.” Furious was too tame a word for his current state. He threw back the covers and stood. Where were his damn breeches? Lying on the floor with his shirt and boots and his tattered pride. So much for good intentions. Noah pulled on his breeches, the feel of Emily’s gaze boring into his back. He had to get out of here before he said anything else he’d regret. He shoved his arms into his shirt and turned around.
One quick glance at his wife told him she was just as eager to see him gone. She clutched the counterpane to her chin, an act that infuriated him. “A little late for modesty, isn’t it?”
“Get out of here,” she hissed. “Now.”
Noah finished the last button on his shirt and walked toward her, stopping inches from the bed. He leaned over, and smiled. “You like that word, don’t you, Emily?”
She pulled the covers closer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
