by Lindy Corbin
His hand drifted to her shoulder, turning her more fully toward him as his mouth slid across hers. She opened to him with flattering accommodation and he eased his lips more firmly across hers. Sweet, she was sweet with the slightest hint of fervor rising to flavor her mouth. He wanted to delve deeper, to lose himself in her and never resurface. There was something about her that called to the depths of his soul. He’d searched but never found the like in any other woman.
He silently scoffed at himself for the thought. He wasn’t normally given to idealistic fancy. It had to be brought on by the resurrection of youthful nostalgia and the heady rise of passion.
She wanted him. It was apparent in the way she pressed against him and her hand crept up to lace in the curls at the collar of his shirt. He wanted her too. Now, in this place where they had pledged their troth with the awkward passion of adolescents. He would prove to himself that she was just a woman, no more special than the rest. He would use her body, lay aside the ghost of her memory and then leave her again.
This time, he would not return.
~~~
Juliet thought perhaps this was what it felt like to drown. Her breath seemed to have left her body and she couldn’t find it in her to care. The heat and scent of Marko surrounded her and merged with her own. The feel of his fingers against her skin was far more enticing than any of the dreams she’d had of him and she leaned helplessly into his kiss. As she opened her mouth to his, he eased his tongue between her lips. He tasted of coffee edged with something untamed as a stormy night.
Gone was the rough thrusting of the tongue that she remembered. In its place was tempting warmth that sparked tiny flames low in her abdomen. She pressed against him as one kiss led gently into another, his lips tenderly tormenting the corners of her mouth before moving to bring nerve endings to life along her cheek and down the line of her neck.
With deft movements that she barely even registered, he shifted her gown from one shoulder, his lips following the slide of the material, raising gooseflesh against her chilled skin. She knew that she should stop him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so quite yet. Curiosity and fascination with the sensations he wrought from her were strong enticements. Taking her mouth again in a long, languorous kiss, he loosened the lacings of her stays and slid the garment to the sides. She reached with one hand to tug him away, but his forearm was solid muscle under her fingers. His large, warm hand cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her shift. Juliet tensed and a low sound of need escaped her, causing a blush to cover her chest and neck.
He must have thought she protested, for he whispered against her mouth. “Let me pleasure you.”
Heaven help her, it was what she desired as well, the reason she’d sought him out. Before she could voice a plea to him to do as he wished, he released her lips and dipped his head to draw her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. Her startled cry of delight disturbed the horse, making him shift under them. She buried her face in the fabric of his shirt, embarrassed at her response.
Marko’s breath was warm against her skin as he chuckled. Thrusting one arm under the skirts at her knees, he swung his leg across the saddle and slid to the ground with her cradled in his arms. Turning, he stepped into the clearing, the weak moonlight gilding his skin and glinting off the small hoop earring he wore. He was strong, carrying her as if she were a slight burden.
Laying her down gently on a bed of dry leaves that had blown beneath the branches of an oak tree, he tucked her cloak under her to protect her from the cold dampness of the ground. She recognized the clearing as the same one where she and Marko had met years ago. Though they were on her family’s land, she had avoided revisiting the spot. It was so strange to be here with him again that she fought to separate the intense memories she had of this place from the realities of the moment. As he leaned above her, Marko was the anchor that moored her in the moment. She clung to him, urging him down with her.
His breath was loud over the rustle of the leaves as he settled beside her. Curving his body over hers protectively, he buried his face in her neck, his lips seeking the wild pulse that beat there. With one hand he teased through her hair, searching for the pins that held it in place then spread the freed strands over her shoulder.
“So beautiful. I never thought …” His voice was hoarse as he trailed off. “No, that’s not true. I’ve thought of nothing else since we crossed the border of Derbyshire. I’ve tried to leave you in peace, but I found myself thinking of you at odd moments and wondering….” He placed one palm against her cheek, staring down into her face. His expression was obscured by the shadows of newly sprouted leaves above them.
“Just this once, Juliet,” he said at length. “I have longed to erase the memories of fumbling youth and show you what it feels like to be held by a man. Let me do this for you. For us.”
“Only once?” He intended to share this magic and then leave her as bereft as she had been for the past years? Her insides recoiled at the thought, pressing the air from her lungs.
He seemed to misunderstand. “It is all I ask. The tribe will move on and I will make sure they never return. You will be free to live your life as you will, to seek a husband without the shadow of our hand-fasting over you.”
How could he fail to realize that their hand-fasting was not an incident she wanted to erase, but the most brilliant hours of her life? Could she bear to bond with him again then face the lonely nights with a sweet, fresh reminder of what she was missing?
Could she bear not to?
With his body pressed to hers, his warmth soaking through to her skin, heating her very blood, it was easily answered. She was already ruined in the eyes of the society in which she lived. What more could they do to her, say about her? She’d take what enjoyment she could and suffer the consequences later. It was a far better choice than having nothing of him at all. With a murmur, she slid her fingers into the thick curls at his neck and urged his head down to hers. Their lips touched lightly and she opened to him, straining upward to increase the pressure.
He seemed to understand that her actions acted as assent. With delicate care, he spread his fingers across the shoulder he’d bared earlier, pushing the gown further along her arm. His lips followed the path he had created, leaving a trail of warmth that spread from her shoulders, across her chest and down her belly. As his palms smoothed down her ribcage, stopping to cup the curve of her hip, his mouth found the taut peak of her breast and covered it with wet fire. Her back arched as she strove to press herself more fully into his mouth, but he soothed her, stroking up and down her back with the tips of his fingers.
“You have learned a great deal,” she said on a shaky breath. Her hands clenched in his hair as he released the suction on her nipple and brushed his closed lips across its rigid surface. Her voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I have not had the advantage.” She tried to keep the note of jealousy out of her voice, but feared that he’d caught its edge.
His breath was warm between her breasts as he murmured, “I am more than happy to remedy that.”
A small laugh escaped her. For a moment, she was back in time, exploring and learning with the younger Marko. He’d been rougher then, but her hunger for him had matched his ardor. She had wondered sometimes how she had dared to defy convention and come to this gypsy boy, but now she knew. As he eased down her body, his lips and hands caressing, finding those small spots that brought delicious shivers, she wondered instead how she had forgotten how enthralling the act of loving Marko could be.
When he grasped the fabric of her skirt, pulling it upward, she shifted, allowing the material to bunch beneath her. His hand found her calf and he gently urged her knee upward, then he was gliding his palm along the inner curve of her thigh until he reached the most secret place of her body. As his fingers touched the closed lips there, he took her mouth in a fierce kiss, smothering her cry of surprise.
His mouth raided hers, stealing her breath with the wicked darting of his tongue. So compe
lling was he that she allowed the intrusion of his hand, gently separating and probing into the dampness of her body. He rubbed the moisture that he found there against a small crown, causing her to stiffen with a delight so sharp it was near pain.
He released her mouth, his tongue tasting the underside of her chin. “Slowly, my sweet. I’ve much to show you.”
“W–will I like it?” She couldn’t imagine anything that could eclipse his seeking fingers.
His whisper was nearly lost against her breast. “If not, command me as you will.”
Easing lower, he pushed her skirt higher, rubbing his cheek against the softness of her belly, pressing a kiss against each of the small protrusions of her hip bones before moving to place a warm caress on the inner curve of her thigh. Juliet tensed and her fingers edged into his hair, tugging to urge him back up to her mouth. Reaching, he removed one hand from his hair and guided it to her breast, his own large one covering it. As he tweaked the nipple with the tips of his fingers, his tongue slid across her lower lips and she twisted with the pleasurable sting of the combined sensations.
Marko groaned as he tasted her, the slight salty evidence of her arousal awakening an answering hardness in his own body. Until this moment, he had been deliberate with his movements, seeking to bring them both to the peak of desire. Now, he lost himself in the sensations, licking and kissing until she moaned and the muscles in her legs contracted as she edged against his mouth with small upward thrusts. Releasing the fastening on his pants, he freed his erection, more ready than he’d believed possible.
Replacing his lips with his fingers, he shifted upward with wet, warm kisses against her stomach then paused to take a nipple in his mouth, reveling in the hardness of the small bud. As he matched his mouth with hers again, he nestled his hips into hers, the head of his arousal pressing into the dampness there as his fingers stroked. He had intended to be gentle, but her tongue played with his in an ardent dance that burned into his brain, erasing all conscious thought.
When Juliet raised her knees, her legs going around his back, he gave her what she sought, sinking into the depths of her body. Their collective groan was buried in a wild melding of mouths. Her fingers clenched into the fabric of his shirt as he moved, setting a rhythm that both satisfied and teased beyond endurance at the same time. His breathing grew harsh and he slowly released her mouth to stare down at the woman he held. She was lovely beyond compare with the moonlight gilding the curves of her cheeks and the building tension tightening the muscles in her neck. Placing one palm against her face, he traced the lashes that lay against her cheek with the pad of one thumb.
“Look at me,” he urged.
Her lids seemed too heavy to lift, but she complied, meeting his gaze with a soft, unfocused stare.
“You will remember this?”
Her answer was so low that he barely heard the one word. “Always.”
It was enough. Leaning onto one elbow, he reached between them to cover her breast, his fingers seeking the hardened nipple. He squeezed until she cried out and he felt the pulsing of her inner muscles around him as she shattered. It was all he could do not to follow her into that bliss, but he held on, stroking her until the last of the tremors eased and she began to relax. Then, pulling free of her body, he finished against her stomach, his own release leaving him shaken and surprisingly weak.
He murmured to her, soft wordless sounds that eased them both, then he kissed her gently. As his mouth drifted over hers, soothing lips swollen from his earlier hard kisses, he slowly became aware of his surroundings, of the sounds of the night, their cooling skin. He didn’t want to move, so thoroughly sated was he, yet at the same time, he was wary with an edgy alertness.
They were alone; he was sure of it. Their final time together was a sweet secret they shared. Unlike in their youth, no further censure would fall on Juliet for their actions. But still, a veiled thought pushed at him as if he’d overlooked a shift on the outer edges of his consciousness. Something had changed, and he had the peculiar feeling life was never going to be the same.
Chapter 3
Juliet closed the door behind her with a click and slid the heavy cloak from her shoulders, leaving it draped across the closest slipper chair. Marko had left her at the fountain near the back of the gardens, one of their meeting places when they were younger. It had been a short and final good-bye.
The blue and cream of the rug on the hall floor blurred as tears threatened, stinging in the back of her throat. She wanted nothing more than to run to her room and bury her face in her pillow. She would block out his last words and cling to the scent and feel of his body on hers as long as possible. As she moved toward the stairs, her brother’s voice hailed her from the open door of the library.
There was no denying James. He would send a housemaid after her if she refused to appear. Brushing a hand across her eyes, she thrust her hair back across her shoulders and tried to school her features into a smooth mask. A few candles and a weak blaze in the hearth were the only sources of light in the library. Thick cigar smoke mingled with the sharpness of aged brandy, making Juliet feel slightly queasy. James sat in a winged chair beside the fire with Lord Stowe in the opposite seat.
“I see you’ve been tumbling with the gypsy again,” James said, the habitual sneer in his tone more pronounced.
Inside, she flinched at the crude expression for what had been the most beautiful experience of her life. She refused to rise to the bait, having learned to disregard her brother’s opinion of her. “Did you want something, dear brother?”
His friend rose and moved to stand with his back to the small blaze. Reginald Stowe was dressed more casually than was seemly in her presence, his jacket thrown across the back of his chair. She had never realized how small a man he was and wondered if the current fashion of puffed sleeves on coats disguised the narrow shoulders of many of the men of her acquaintance. Or perhaps he only appeared small in comparison to Marko.
“Careful,” the man said with only the slightest hint of a slur to indicate how much brandy he had consumed. “You’re speaking of my future wife.”
“Wife!”
Juliet’s exclamation was ignored by the men.
“Look at her,” James said with a careless wave of one hand. “Her hair is down her back and she’s doubtless been used like a bitch in heat. I fail to understand your desire to take her to wife, but if you want the wench, she’s yours.”
The other man lifted his glass to his lips and drank deeply, his gaze never leaving Juliet. She thought she could feel the intensity of his stare against her as it roamed over her face and down the wrinkled and creased length of her skirt. A shiver ran down her back. She crossed her arms, grasping her forearms with her hands and hoping that he didn’t notice she was covering her breasts from his view.
“I enjoy the idea of having a spitfire in my bed,” he drawled. “It will save me the trouble of going to a brothel to find a woman with tastes that match my own.”
“I don’t recall hearing your proposal,” Juliet said, trying to keep her voice steady. Both men had obviously been drinking, not only now but also when they visited the gypsy camp. If she were lucky, by the time they woke tomorrow, the whole episode would be forgotten.
“It is no longer your choice.” James’ voice was hard with determination. “When your actions tonight become known, it is certain that Charlotte will refuse my suit. We must quiet the scandal immediately.”
Anger rose in Juliet and she took a quick step further into the room. “I’ll not pay the price for your failure to obtain a wife.”
“My failure, as you put it, is a direct result of your promiscuous ways.”
“My promiscuous –” She stopped, stunned at the insult. “You make it sound as if I’ve lain with half the village. I was married–”
“A make-shift ceremony of no moment,” he interrupted harshly. “Even your supposed husband recognized that he had no hold on you. He left without a backward glance as soon as it was
made clear that you would not be joining him.”
So Marko had told the truth. James had been the one to send him away. “You had no right.”
“What I did was for the good of the family. We could never have shown our faces in polite circles if you had run off with the gypsy boy.”
She should be angry, but instead all she felt was sadness for the loss of young love. That moment in time could never be regained. Marko had moved on. He was now a man, a strong leader. She had made her choice as well, electing to wither away quietly, rather than endure a loveless marriage. “For the sake of your pride, you ruined my life.”
“I’ve done nothing. You allowed yourself to be taken in by a scoundrel. More than once, I might add. I thought better of your sense. He is back again, taking what he wants, but he hasn’t proposed a real marriage has he?”
She couldn’t deny it, though she longed to with every beat of her heart. Her lips trembled and she pressed them together until she felt the sharp edges of her front teeth digging into the soft skin. She would not cry in front of James, though the pain of having her hopes dashed a second time was an open wound that she suspected would take months, if not years, to heal.
“I thought not,” he scoffed. “Charlotte has discreetly let it be known that she doesn’t wish to live under the same roof as you. If you are wed and move into your own home, she will accept my suit.”
“I’ve refused others who asked for my hand.”
James slammed his glass of brandy down on the small table next to him and straightened in his chair. “Father was too soft with you. I’ll brook no refusal.”
“Enough!”
Juliet turned her head sharply toward her brother’s friend. In the heat of the argument, she had forgotten he was in the room.
“I will woo my bride in my own way, James. Leave us for a few moments.”
