Rogues in Texas 03 - Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  “My wife is timid,” he said quietly. “Very well, remove the remainder of your clothes and meet me at the water’s edge.”

  She watched him stand with grace and confidence. He walked beyond the light cast by the fire to the water’s edge where he became merely a silhouette. He removed his trousers and cast them aside, but she could see little more than his form.

  She undid the buttons on her skirt and wiggled out of it. She studied her husband, waiting patiently for her. She supposed most women came to know their husband’s bodies intimately on their wedding night.

  What did she fear?

  Certainly not him. Perhaps like Eve, she felt she would gain knowledge this night that she was better off not possessing.

  With a deep breath, she pushed to her feet and strolled across the sand, feeling remarkably vulnerable and incredibly free.

  Kit watched his wife walk hesitantly toward him.

  What in God’s name had possessed him to suggest this swim? He’d blame it on the wine if he’d had any to drink.

  But the truth resided somewhere between insanity and obsession. Dear God, but he wanted her truly as his wife and that he could not have—ever. He had considered a dozen times taking her into the realm of pleasure and not traveling there himself.

  Would she see his action as betrayal or a gift? He wanted nothing to cause her harm or regret.

  He had not felt this possessive stirring for any woman except Clarisse. Yet now when he closed his eyes, he could no longer envision Clarisse’s face. He could see only his wife. Too pale, too thin. Although she was eating more. Perhaps it was the salt air. It certainly increased his appetite and not only for food.

  He held out his hand toward Ashton. She slipped her trembling hand into his.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “No. I just can’t see much out here.”

  Which he realized was no doubt for the best. “The water’s warm,” he assured her as he led her toward it.

  “I guess you can swim,” she said, but he heard the doubts laced within her voice.

  “You assume correctly.”

  The waves swirled around his calves while the sand shifted beneath his feet

  “How far out will we go?” she asked.

  “Until you tell me to stop.”

  “Do you think crabs are vengeful creatures?”

  Laughing, he glanced at her. “Afraid they might come after you for eating their cousins?”

  “Just being silly, I guess.” Her hand tightened on his. “I like the way the water feels, and the wet sand. It’s different.”

  “I want you to enjoy it.”

  “Do you ever think of sailing from here and returning to England ?”

  “Unfortunately, every day.”

  She stopped and he turned to face her.

  “Do you really?” she asked, amazement in her voice.

  “Unlike Harry and Grayson, who now have families, I have nothing to hold me here.” As soon as the words were spoken, he knew she would hold him here. Four months, six months, a year. As long as she breathed, he would remain.

  “Then why haven’t you gone home?” she asked.

  “Because there, I have nothing to call me back.” He tugged on her hand. “Come along, let’s go farther out.”

  The water lapped at his waist, the waves gentle but persistent. She released a tiny squeal and leapt at him. He grabbed her, holding her against his side, her feet finding purchase on his calf.

  “Something touched my leg, something cold and shiny,” she said, breathing heavily.

  “No doubt a harmless fish.” He slipped his arms beneath her and raised her well above his hips. “Lift your legs and wrap them around my waist.”

  Trembling, she did as he bade, her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “We should leave the water now,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, the warmth from her body seeping into his.

  She leaned back slightly. “It could be a dangerous creature.”

  “It would have attacked by now.” The only dangerous creature in the water was he. Supporting her with one arm beneath her hips, he wrapped his other arm around her back. Swallowing hard, he pressed a kiss just above her breast.

  “Kit,” she said on a sigh.

  He’d expected her to push him away. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held him close. He turned his head slightly, took her budding nipple into his mouth, and suckled gently.

  She dropped her head back. “Oh, my dear God.”

  He ran his tongue in a circle over her distended flesh before kissing her breast. “I want to know the feel of your flesh, all of you. I want to pleasure you, Ashton,” he said in a roughened voice that he barely recognized as his own.

  “I think you just did,” she whispered.

  “No, that was only the beginning.” He tilted his head up. “There are ways to bring you pleasure without consummation, but you must want it and you must trust me.”

  She lowered her face and brushed her lips over his. “I do trust you, Christian, with all my heart, and I’ll accept everything that you’re willing to give.”

  He kissed the valley between her breasts and began walking out of the water, knowing even as he did so that he was wandering more deeply into hell.

  *

  Ashton stared at the flames of the fire, brought to life by the driftwood Kit had added to keep her warm. She lay within the path of their light, while he was stretched out on the other side of her, hidden in the shadows, trailing his hand slowly, provocatively over her thigh, between her knee and hip.

  She closed her eyes. She should have told him that she didn’t need the fire. The warmth he created deep within her was enough to ward off any chill that the night air might bring.

  He nuzzled her neck, close to her ear. “Don’t be afraid, Ashton.”

  “I’m not.”

  He slid his hand beneath her knee and raised her leg until he could skim his fingers along the back of her thigh. She purred low in her throat. His hands were unlike hers. His palms were rougher, yet his touch was gentler, so different from when she gave herself a bath. His movements were unhurried as though they had all night, as though the dawn would wait.

  He moved his mouth along her neck and below her chin. “Like that?” he asked.

  “Mmm,” she replied, enjoying each liberty he took. Lethargically, she tangled her fingers through his thick hair and glided one hand over his shoulder, relishing the solid muscles residing beneath his flesh.

  Most of her life, she had been tired, but this sensation made her feel alive even as it caused her bones to melt. She might never move from this spot. Perhaps she would die here.

  He trailed his fingers along her hip, into the curve of her side, and brought them to rest against her ribs, his thumb sweeping along the lower swell of her breast. An intense shiver rippled through her, causing her fingers to spasm before pressing into his hot flesh.

  He adjusted the positioning of his hand slightly and his palm swallowed her breast. “A perfect fit,” he murmured, and she thought she’d never loved him more, for accepting her as she was.

  “Kit—” Whatever she might have said on a dreamy sigh was lost as he covered her mouth with his own. The hunger she sensed coming from him surprised her. His tongue traced the outline of her lips as his hand glided down her body. She felt the heat intensify, her body quivering with needs she didn’t understand. With skill and determination, he parted her lips as his hand cupped her intimately.

  She tensed and he stilled, only his tongue teasing her mouth, daring her to follow where he led. When his tongue retreated, she whimpered and pursued, for the first time learning the secrets of his mouth, skimming her tongue across his lips, over his teeth until it met his tongue.

  He groaned as he shifted his body until the hardened planes of his chest met the soft curves of hers. With his free hand, he cradled her head and tilted it slightly, kissing her more deeply, his tongue waltzing with hers until she swo
re she could hear the echo of violins, a ghostly reminder of their wedding night when they had danced.

  At the juncture of her thighs, his fingers began a slow, gentle caress in direct contrast to the rapacious hunger of his mouth. Her hands tightened their hold on his shoulders, anchoring her to the earth when she wanted to reach for the heavens.

  With his mouth and hands, he was an artist creating a tapestry of sensations she’d never dared to imagine. She grew hotter, her body quivering from her toes to the top of her head. Even though he wasn’t touching all of her, he may as well have been. She’d never known the journey to pleasure encompassed every aspect of a person: her heart, her body, and her soul. Intertwined, inseparable. He made them all tremble with wonder.

  Sweet pleasure spiraled from her core, shimmied up her spine, and spread through every limb, and when she thought she could stand it no longer, it erupted into a maelstrom of passions that knew no boundaries. She cried out, her back arching, her hold on him tightening.

  His hand stilled. His breathing as strained as hers, he rained kisses over her face, her jaw, her neck, and her shoulders. He moved his hands to either side of her ribs and buried his face between her breasts.

  With her breathing growing even, she wished they could stay here forever. She might have died without ever knowing the pleasures of the flesh. She wanted to thank him but could think of no words adequate enough to express the awe with which he’d satisfied her.

  She combed her fingers through his hair. With his tongue, he drew a circle over her flesh. She lifted her gaze to the stars.

  Not one shone as brightly as the gift Kit had just bestowed upon her.

  *

  CHAPTER 14

  « ^ »

  K it awoke, the unmerciful predawn light threatening him with another day.

  He could not believe how something as innocent as a swim had resulted in him ultimately bringing pleasure to his wife. But while he cursed himself, a small part of him, male vanity no doubt, was glad, glad that he’d given her a taste of pleasure.

  No one should leave this earth without experiencing it.

  He’d carried Ashton into the house while they both wore only that with which they’d been born. Unless the tide had washed away all evidence, he supposed he needed to return to the shore and gather up the blanket and their clothing. Should the items be spotted by Mrs. Edwards or her daughter, Kit was certain they would guess what had transpired on the shore last night. Only their imaginations would take it a step farther.

  Dear Lord, but he had wanted to. Giving physical pleasure while receiving none was not his usual style. But then normalcy had walked out the door with his common sense the night he had asked Ashton to become his wife.

  Yet he had no regrets. Moments of anger, yes, unrequited frustration, undoubtedly—but no regrets. Only a deepening desire to give her more.

  She was content with so little when he’d known women discontent with far more. Why could greed or avarice not be a requirement for disease? Why did it choose as its victims those least deserving of its wrath?

  He felt the sheet shift and opened his eyes into narrow slits. Then he opened them fully, unable to believe the sight he beheld.

  Raised up on an elbow, his wife had tucked her head beneath the sheet she’d lifted slightly. They were both nude, and he could well guess at what she was staring.

  Although he was not by nature a modest man, still he felt the heat suffuse his face. “Madam, what are you doing?”

  With a start, she jerked the sheet down, clutching it against her breasts, her mouth as open and wide as her eyes. She blinked. “It changes. I couldn’t see in the dark, but I thought last night that I could feel that it seemed … to be different … at times.”

  Ah God, he was torn between laughter and despair. He raised a brow. “It?”

  She nodded vigorously and wiggled her finger toward the center of his side of the bed where the sheet was rapidly peaking. “Your anatomy.”

  “My anatomy?”

  “Stop repeating everything I say and making it into a question so I sound like a dunce. I read all the medical books I could find hoping to discover a cure for my illness. Therefore, I am familiar with anatomy, and I know it has a name. It simply escapes me at the moment.”

  “I don’t know how it was referred to in your anatomy books, but I could give you a whole list of names to use, although I don’t think any should pass between a woman’s lips.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why does it change?”

  Inwardly he groaned, biting back several curses. He cleared his throat. “Because when a man makes love to a woman fully … in order to join his body with hers, he requires a certain … sturdiness.”

  Disappointment filled her eyes. “I see. So last night you didn’t make love to me fully.”

  “I brought pleasure to you, did I not?”

  Blushing, she lowered her lashes. He cradled her face. “Making love comes in many forms.” He brushed his thumb beside the corner of her eye until she opened both and met his gaze. “We agreed upon no consummation, but as far as I am concerned, I did make love to you last night.”

  She nodded slightly. “I felt as though you did. It was the most glorious moment of my life.”

  “Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

  She touched his bristly cheek and unexpected desire surged through him.

  “Does it hurt when it’s sturdy?”

  Yes, by God, it was bloody well killing him right now. If he didn’t get out of bed this instant, he was going to roll his sweet, delicate, innocent wife onto her back and consummate this marriage with a fierceness that terrified him. His needs were those of a barbarian.

  He jerked the sheet aside and clambered out of bed.

  “Put on a dress,” he ordered. “No undergarments.”

  “Why?”

  With his back to her, trying to shield his uncontrollable body from her, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’re going for a ride.”

  *

  A ride. Why had she thought of a romantic excursion in a carriage at dawn?

  Ashton wondered if there ever came a time when a wife knew exactly what her husband meant without his having to go into a detailed explanation.

  She certainly hadn’t envisioned herself sitting astride a great black horse with no saddle beneath her, her skirt whipping against her legs while she felt the power of the beast as he galloped along the shallow edge of the surf, spraying water in his wake.

  She clung to his mane while her husband wrapped one arm around her like an iron band and held the reins with his other hand. She sat nestled between his firm thighs while they journeyed toward the rising sun, with the surf thundering through her ears.

  She felt the heat from Kit’s body burn its way through the thin material of her bodice. She loved the freedoms he showered on her. More, she loved his touch, his nearness, his honesty, and his blush.

  Lying in bed this morning, asking questions, and watching the red stain of embarrassment creep into his face, she’d felt her heart burst forth like a flower unfurling its petals. She thought she’d fallen in love with him when she’d met him in Dallas .

  But now she knew it had been nothing more than an infatuation. Four years ago, he had intrigued and fascinated her.

  He still did, but her feelings had blossomed, were as radiant as the dawn. She loved him.

  A blessing and a curse, for she would leave this world happier than she had ever been, yet grieving the loss of time with him as she’d never thought possible.

  He brought the horse to a halt at the edge of the inlet. Kit drew in breaths much deeper than hers.

  She tried to breathe and instead was hit with a coughing spell. With resentment at her body’s reminder of her frail health, she took the handkerchief he offered and covered her mouth. He massaged her back until the seizure passed.

  Expecting the worse, she glanced at the white linen. No blood. She released a shuddering sigh of relief as she stuffed the cloth i
nto the pocket of her skirt.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, genuine concern reflected in his voice.

  She leaned back against his chest and nodded. “I was actually getting hopeful. I can’t remember coughing since we’ve been here.”

  “It’s good air as long as we’re upwind of rotting fish,” he said quietly.

  “Have you always been such an early riser?” she asked.

  He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. “Mmm-uh.”

  She smiled slightly. “That must have been a disappointment to your mistresses.”

  “I’ve never had a mistress. The word implies a relationship of sorts, a commitment. I sought neither.”

  She twisted her head around. “But you’ve been with women.”

  “Too many to count, and I seriously doubt you want to traverse this conversational path.”

  She studied the lines of his face shaped by hardships, not joy. “Is Clarisse the only woman you’ve ever loved?”

  “No. I loved my mother.” She watched him swallow as he trailed his fingers over her face. “And you.”

  Her heart leapt at the same moment it plummeted. The joy and grief caused an unbearable ache. She forced a smile that she knew wobbled. “You are too kind to say that.”

  He touched the corner of her eye with his thumb. “If I were kind, I would have ignored your question. From the first moment I met Clarisse until the day I took you as my wife, I awoke with thoughts of her.”

  He gently touched his lips to hers. “Now the only time I think of her is when you mention her. I always imagined that when I died alone and with no family that my last thought would be of her. Now, I know it will be of you.”

  Her eyes burned as she swung her head back around to stare at the sunrise. Through the tears, she could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors. “You weren’t supposed to love me.”

  He sighed deeply. “Believe me, sweetling, it was not my intention to fall for you.”

  “You’re not to die alone and with no family. Promise me that there will be someone after me.”