The Spotted Plume

by Yvonne Whittal

  'You've obviously thought of everything.'

  'When I want something badly enough, I make sure that nothing stands in my way,' he murmured against her lips. 'And I happen to want you.'

  Her lips parted beneath his, and excitement churned through her, making her unaware of those strong brown fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse. The front catch of her bra offered the least resistance, and it was only when she felt the urgent, caressing pressure of his large hands against her breasts that she realised what he had done. It was too late then to protest, for her breasts were swelling in response to his touch, and desire was like a fiery flame igniting all her natural instincts. Her hands moved of their own volition, her fingers tugging impatiently at the buttons of his shirt until her palms made contact with his hard, hair-roughened chest. She could feel his heart beating as wildly as her own, but her hands stilled their caresses when she realised that her innocent longing to touch him had quickened his own desire to possess her.

  'Are you going to let me stay the night?' he asked thickly, his lips tantalising hers until she almost cried out with the need for his kisses.

  She wanted him very much, but not like this. It was important to her to come to her husband on their wedding night untouched even by him, and it was important that she have Hunter's respect as well as his love.

  'Don't make it difficult for me to—to refuse you,' she begged at last.

  'You don't know how tempted I am to do just that.'

  'I know,' she breathed, clinging desperately now to her sanity as he lowered his lips to her smooth, satiny breast. 'I—I love you more than I could ever tell you, but I—I also happen to be terribly old-fashioned,' she added unsteadily, a little afraid now as she felt her body yield beneath the sensual insistence of his lips and hands.

  'You're not going to make me wait long, are you?' he growled, raising his head to glare down at her in that old ferocious manner, but this time it did not frighten her, and a provocative little smile curved her generous mouth.

  'It would be in my own interests not to, I think,' she replied softly, her eyes luminous with love as she traced the line of his hard jaw with tender, teasing fingers.

  'You're damn right about that!' he snapped harshly, but there was an unexpected look of tenderness in his eyes, and then she was subjected to another bout of lovemaking that left her quivering on the brink of desire.

  His arms were strong yet gentle about her, and with the first throes of hunger assuaged, his kisses became tender, yet lingering with the warmth of suppressed passion. He did not try to make her change her mind about letting him stay the night with her and, knowing how much he wanted her, she admired him for his control. He knew, too, how much she wanted him—she had not hidden the fact—but he respected her wishes, and she knew that she would have no need to fear that he would make demands on her until they could give of each other freely on their wedding night.

  When Hunter finally left her flat that evening she sat for a long time staring at the cape he had given her with the spotted plumes worked into it, and running her fingers over it lightly she decided that they had brought her good fortune. She had won the love of the often rude, arrogant master of Vogelsvlei, and all that remained was for her to win his complete trust. She was indeed fortunate, she realised, and it was with a light, happy heart that she went to bed that night. Soon, very soon, she would be Hunter's wife, and her impossible dreams would become a beautiful reality.