Heartstrings

by Rebecca Paisley

  She began to open the gift.

  When five whole minutes had passed and she had yet to untie the tight red bow, Roman had to restrain himself from grabbing the box and ripping the paper off. “For God’s sake, Theodosia, do you want the damned gift or not?”

  His impatience made her giggle. “I am savoring this moment, Roman.”

  Just to irritate him further, she stopped trying to open the present and glided her finger across the yellow paper. Only when the spark of aggravation in his eyes became the glitter of real anger did she finish opening the gift.

  Inside the box lay a doll. Her face was a plump walnut, upon which were painted her tiny features. Golden straw made her hair, and beneath her blue-and-orange-calico dress she had a soft body of feather-filled burlap.

  “She’s not a valuable antique. Got that?” Roman announced. “You don’t put that kind of doll behind some glass case and stare at her. You play with her, and you don’t worry about her breaking. Probably the worst that might happen to her is that her head could fall off. If that happens, you just glue it right back on.”

  “You are wrong, Roman.”

  He frowned. “Wrong? About what?”

  Theodosia fondled the doll’s stiff straw hair. “She is valuable—because you gave her to me.” Recalling that she’d once told him she’d had a collection of three hundred dolls that she couldn’t play with, she understood the significance of his gift. “Would it upset you if I wept?”

  “Looks to me like you already are,” he answered, watching a few of her tears splash to the doll’s wrinkled brown face.

  Holding the doll tightly to her breast, Theodosia gazed up at the thoughtful man who’d given it to her. His long raven hair shone in the late afternoon sunshine, as did his eyes, which were even bluer than the heaven above him. She looked at the deep cleft in his chin and the lopsided slant of his smile. His height and size always amazed her, and as she admired his physique, she dwelled upon his astonishing skills and knowledge as well. The man had little formal education, and yet…

  And yet Roman Montana was one of the smartest men she’d ever known.

  Some men, she mused, used their intelligence within the walls of a laboratory. There was little they didn’t know or understand within their scientific realm.

  Roman’s laboratory was the world. No walls closed around him, and there was little he didn’t know or understand within his natural domain.

  She pondered the fact that wisdom was not confined to the pages of books. Was not always something that could be taught.

  And genius, she realized, was not necessarily measured by academic awards. Was not necessarily—

  Genius. The word took complete control of Theodosia’s thoughts. A genius, she remembered, was a person endowed with extraordinary mental capacity. With superior power of the mind. One could be a genius at mathematics, science, and other academic areas…

  Or one could show true genius with horses. Survival skills. People.

  It dawned on her then that Roman Montana was a genius in every sense of the word.

  She dropped her doll.

  “Theodosia?” Roman said, noting the incredulous expression on her face. He knelt down beside her and cupped her cheek in his palm. “What’s the matter?”

  Her wide-eyed gaze locked with his. For weeks she’d been traveling from town to town, posting circulars and interviewing strange men in an effort to find a man as intelligent as Upton. And all along, Roman had been right by her side, guiding her with his own special brand of genius and taking tender care of her.

  Brilliant and kind. That’s what Upton was.

  And so was Roman Montana.

  Dear God, why hadn’t she caught the similarities before now? Had her search for academic intelligence blinded her to everything else?

  Her heartbeat staggered, like something dead brought back to vibrant life. “Roman,” she whispered, “I…” She paused and laid her hand on his chest. “Roman, would you—would you consent to be the man to sire the child?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her question leaped into Roman’s heart and traveled through his every vein. He didn’t dare answer right away, afraid if he did, he’d wake up and the dream would be over before he’d seen how it ended.

  Before he’d made love to her.

  His silence caused Theodosia to bow her head in embarrassment. She knew what he was thinking. How could she have forgotten? “I’m sorry, Roman,” she said, her voice as fragile as the delicate flower necklace he’d made for her. “The gold. I failed to remember that I no longer have the means with which to pay you. I do have my ruby brooch—”

  “I don’t want your gold or your brooch, Theodosia.”

  She looked up and saw the truth of his words in the azure depths of his eyes. “Do you accept?” she whispered.

  He could see nothing but her beauty, could hear nothing but her beautiful request. “Yes.”

  The reality of the situation fell over her. Once upon a time she’d planned to have coitus with some stranger in a darkened hotel room.

  Instead, she was going to make love with Roman Montana beneath a canopy of trees.

  Joy rose in her heart like a beautiful sunrise. She reached out her arms for him.

  Roman brought her to him, next to his chest, and he held her as though someone might come and take her away from him in the next moment. Smiling into her soft hair, he urged her to the ground again but continued to hold her.

  And hold her.

  Nighttime found them still on the ground, ensconced within the cocoon of each other’s arms, the thick bed of grass and flowers, and the knowledge of what would soon happen.

  “It’s dark,” Roman whispered.

  Theodosia couldn’t breathe, much less reply. The time had come, she mused. In a short while she would cease to be a maiden.

  The thought brought her a tinge of worry. “You will be gentle, Roman.”

  She spoke the words as if they were a statement, but he heard the question in them. “Yes.”

  She rose from the ground, retrieved one of her bags out of the back of the buckboard, and disappeared behind a mass of brush.

  His own breathing a little ragged, Roman built a fire within the shelter of the nearby oak glade. He then prepared a bit of stew with dried meat, onion, and potatoes. Food was the last thing on earth he wanted, but he remembered that Theodosia hadn’t eaten since noon.

  When the food was simmering over the fire, he saw Theodosia watching him. Dressed in her flannel nightgown, she sat against the trunk of a large tree, firelight dancing over her long golden hair and the purple violets embroidered on her gown. “I made some supper.”

  She could smell the stew but could see only Roman.

  He’d removed his shirt, boots, and stockings and wore only his tight black breeches. His dark chest rippled and gleamed and enticed.

  He was going to take off those tight black breeches and make love to her. Tonight.

  She fondled the knowledge as if holding it in her hand.

  “Do you want to eat, Theodosia?”

  Mute with anticipation, she could only shake her head.

  He sensed her excitement, but he reminded himself that a whisper of trepidation edged her desire. Casually, he picked up a spoon and began to stir the stew. “Nervous?”

  “No,” she said a bit too quickly.

  He smiled.

  She saw the crooked slant of his grin and realized he knew she lied. “Yes, Roman, I am a bit anxious,” she admitted, gliding her finger across one of the purple violets on her gown. “But only because tonight will be the first time I…I—”

  “Have coitus?” Still smiling, he continued to stir the stew and remained determined to do his best to relax her. “But I thought it was just a scientific procedure. Didn’t you tell me one time that it was only the joining of male and female gentiles that move in rhythm—”

  “It is the physical union of male and female genitalia accompanied by rhythmic movements, usually leading t
o the ejaculation of semen from the penis into the female reproductive tract. But Roman, I—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. The bedding rules. I haven’t forgotten them. I’ll make our bed in the pitch-dark woods, away from the fire. I won’t kiss you, I won’t touch you. I’ll only wait for you to bare your lower half. You can close your eyes and think of unrelated matters, and I’ll be done in two minutes. Maybe less. I don’t even have to take my breeches off if you don’t want me to. I could just open up the front.”

  “Two minutes?” she repeated disbelievingly.

  Her distress amused the hell out of him. “Theodosia, I am only trying to do this the way you once told me you wanted it done.” He removed the stew from the fire and rose.

  Theodosia watched him remove blankets from the back of her wagon and amble toward her. Moonlight poured over him; sensuality radiated from him. Just the sight of him sent pleasure wafting through her.

  She could only imagine what bliss it would be to feel him inside her.

  The thought so excited her, she squeezed handfuls of the leaves scattered around her. “Roman, we must make haste. If we do not, I fear my anticipation will push me toward the fringes of insanity.”

  He stopped before her. “I thought you were nervous.”

  “I am feeling many emotions at this moment. Nervousness is but one of them.”

  “I see.” Stifling laughter, he set about making their bed.

  She knew she should help him, but could not move from her spot by the tree.

  He was making their bed. Upon that pile of soft blankets, she would surrender her virginity to him.

  She would become a woman in Roman’s arms.

  He heard her soft moan and saw the expression of intense pleasure on her face. God, were her fantasies so real that she’d found ecstasy alone? “Hey, wait for me,” he teased. “We’re supposed to do this together, remember?”

  She stood and slowly untied the front of her gown.

  Roman sobered instantly. Purple violets cascaded down her lush figure as the gown slipped to the ground. He’d seen her naked before, but tonight was different.

  Tonight he would know every inch of that pale and perfect body.

  But contrary to her demand, he would know her slowly.

  He picked up her gown and slipped it back over her head.

  “Roman, what—”

  “The rules,” he reminded her. “Lie down.”

  She did and gazed up at him.

  “Cover yourself with the blankets.”

  Again, she obeyed.

  “Pull your nightgown up to your waist, close your eyes, and think of anything but what I’m going to do to you.”

  She started to do as he asked but stopped in mid-action. “Roman, cease this play.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Do what I told you to do, Theodosia.”

  He wasn’t playing. The devastatingly sexy sound in his voice assured her of that. She pulled her nightgown up to her waist and closed her eyes.

  “You wanted total darkness, you get total darkness,” Roman explained. “No matter what, keep your eyes shut.” He knelt beside her. “Do you want my breeches on or off? I can do this either way.”

  His question deepened her yearning for him. “Off.”

  He withdrew her arms from beneath the blankets. His thumbs caressing the back of her hands, he placed her palms upon the fastening of his breeches. “I burned my hands making the stew and can’t deal with these buttons. You’ll have to do it.”

  She started to open her eyes in surprise, but in the next moment she felt Roman’s hand covering them.

  “I told you to keep your eyes shut, Theodosia.”

  She fumbled with the button for a moment, then felt it open. Heat fairly consumed her. She swore flames licked at her fingers and that they blazed straight from Roman’s hard body.

  “Theodosia,” he pressed.

  She undid the other buttons, and then, with her hands at the waist of his pants, she rolled his breeches and undergarments off his hips and down to his knees. When she heard him shift, she knew he’d discarded the clothing entirely.

  He was naked now.

  She moved to touch him intimately.

  He caught her hand. “No touching, and don’t you dare open your eyes.”

  Such frustration consumed her that she groaned. “You are naked, and I am not.”

  “I know.”

  “But—”

  “I’m going to penetrate you, Theodosia,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m going to spill my seed inside you. And you, my little scientific sweetheart, are going to think totally unrelated thoughts.”

  She tried to open her eyes. Again, he laid his hand over them. “Roman—”

  “Penetrate you,” he murmured once more. “Like this.”

  She felt his long fingers slide into her and cried out with delight.

  “You aren’t thinking about unrelated things, Theodosia,” Roman cooed, moving his thumb over the most sensitive spot of her female flesh. “If you were, you’d feel no pleasure. Think about—um, think about spleens.”

  She longed to chide him, but the pleasure he gave made speaking impossible. Instead, she moved restlessly against his hand.

  “Of course, I don’t plan to penetrate you only with my fingers,” Roman continued, drawing nearer to her.

  She felt his arousal burn into the side of her thigh. “Dear God, Roman—”

  “Think of olfactory nerves, Theodosia,” he suggested softly, pressing himself against her in a rhythm he knew would bring her body to fever pitch. “Think of Shakespeare.”

  Gently, he parted her thighs, then settled his hips between them. Her rigid-nippled breasts pressed into his chest, her soft whimpers flowed into his mind, and fire scorched through his every vein. Kissing and nuzzling her neck and throat, he positioned himself so that his hot maleness skimmed across her feminine moistness. “I’m going to penetrate you now,” he warned huskily. “While I do, think of the magnitude of stars.”

  She felt the velvety tip of his masculinity press lightly at the pulsing entrance to her body. Reacting instinctively, she reached around Roman’s back, placed her hands on his bottom, and tried to shove him forward.

  He resisted her efforts. “Think of the laws of inertia.”

  He entered her slightly, giving her just enough time to crave the full length of him before withdrawing completely and then repeating the same tormenting procedure once more.

  “Theodosia, open your eyes.”

  She opened them and saw the very essence of passion in his blazing gaze. He pushed his hips forward slowly…slowly, and it was with sweet leisure that she experienced her first sensation of being joined with a man.

  He felt thick, but her body stretched to accommodate his size. He felt long, but she wanted all of him.

  She tried to raise her hips, but his weight kept her pinned to the ground.

  “Think of me, Theodosia,” Roman whispered, keeping steady hold of her smoldering gaze. “Think of me.”

  In the next instant he filled her mind and her body. A flash of pain shot through her as he drove his full length into her, but the wondrous feeling of having him inside her quickly overcame her discomfort.

  “Theodosia,” Roman groaned. “Oh, God, Theodosia.” He stilled, savoring the long-awaited pleasure of being buried inside her silky wet tightness.

  Theodosia was not willing to allow him to be still. She writhed beneath him, impatient for him to bring her the rapture he’d so skillfully given her in the past.

  With one swift motion Roman pulled her nightgown above her head and off her arms, then tossed it into the shadows. Taking her stiff nipple into his mouth, he began to show her the true meaning of lovemaking. “You’re going full circle tonight, Theodosia, and I’m going with you. Move with me, sweetheart.”

  Though she had never lain with a man before this night, her body knew precisely what to do. Each time he slid out of her, she pressed her hips toward the ground, then raised them to join
with him again.

  Lost to everything but him, she listened as he murmured endearments and words of encouragement to her. His deep, rich voice caressing her senses, she gave herself up to him in complete abandon.

  Her total surrender to him brought Roman a fresh surge of desire, and a more profound determination to take her to the highest pinnacle of ecstasy possible. Keeping his strokes long, deep, and steady, he moved to claim her mouth with his own, and while he drove his tongue between her soft lips, he circled his palm upon the stiff nipples of her erect breasts.

  His skillful attentions to so many places on her body at once gave Theodosia the deepest pleasure she had yet to experience, and as her ecstasy rose, she felt her tight passage clutch at Roman, as if embracing him in tiny, rhythmic hugs. His presence inside her enhancing her fulfillment, her senses spinning, and her body bucking beneath him, she screamed out his name.

  Her sensual contractions kindled a blaze within Roman’s loins. His hard slick body strained for control, but she pulsed so tightly, so sweetly around him that he ceased to fight back the bliss she offered but instead allowed her to bring him into the same fire of pleasure that consumed her.

  Flames of bliss shot through his frame and caught his very soul afire. Shuddering from the extraordinary feelings he’d found in Theodosia’s arms, he kissed her with more passion than he’d ever before shown her…

  And spilled his seed inside her.

  Theodosia lay in the crook of Roman’s arm, her body glistening with the dew of lovemaking and the sheen of moonbeams. A swath of ebony hair cascaded over her breasts, warm, thick, and soft as satin.

  Lazily, she looked into her lover’s heavy-lidded eyes. “Was it as beautiful for you as it was for me?” she whispered.

  Her question floated through him like a feather on a breeze. “Yes.”

  “I will never forget this night, Roman.”

  He trailed his hand down the curve of her back and over her bottom, finally resting it upon her smooth thigh. “Just in case you do, I’ll remind you in the morning.”

  Realizing he meant to make love to her again when they awakened, she sighed in contentment. “I did not know,” she whispered. “Lovemaking. How could I ever have thought lovemaking to be a mere scientific procedure?”