by Candace Camp
A hope he’d hardly dared to consider was now careening around inside him, and even as he tried to hold it down, he could feel the expectation, the hunger, bubbling up in him. James moved toward her, his steps slow and controlled. His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the delectable flush on her cheeks, the mingling of anticipation and uncertainty in her blue eyes. Her beauty made it hard to breathe.
“And what about you?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “The other day, did you feel some desire?”
Her blush deepened rosily, and now she could not meet his eyes. “Yes, of course. I hope you don’t think I go about kissing just any man that way.”
“I’m glad of that.” He crooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face up so that she gazed into his eyes. “But I gave you little choice, as I remember.”
“I didn’t notice.”
His gut tightened at her words, at the soft, almost dreamy expression on her face. He stroked his finger lightly down her throat. His blood was roaring in his ears. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
“I know.” Her answer was so simple, her voice so clear and sure, it shook him.
“Laura . . .” The word was only a whisper as he bent and kissed her, his lips as soft as his voice. He raised his head and studied her as he cradled her face. His fingers trembled on her skin.
James’s eyes went to the thick braid of golden hair that draped over her shoulder. Reaching out, he curled his hand around it and slid his hand slowly all the way down. The rope of hair was softer than silk. When he reached the feathery ends, James tugged on the ribbon that tied it, opening the bow and pulling it from her hair. He tucked the ribbon into his pocket.
“My ribbon . . .” she protested.
“Uh-uh.” He grinned. “It’s mine now.” Freed from its restraint, the plait began to loosen. He twined his fingers through it, hastening the undoing. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Unbraid my hair?”
“Mm-hm.” His eyes were on his hand tangling through her hair, separating the strands and letting them whisper through his fingers. He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs tracing the line of her collarbone. “You see, I am a man of simple pleasures.”
“Are you?” Laughter threaded through Laura’s voice, and it made the hunger tighten and coil deep within James.
“Yes.” He brought up his other hand and cupped her face between them, his long fingers edging into her hair. “All I ask for is simple . . .” He bent and kissed her upper lip. “Utter . . .” He kissed her lower lip. “Perfection.” His mouth settled on hers.
When he lifted his lips from her, she said a little breathlessly, “Perfection? That’s a rather steep requirement.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. It is precisely what you are.”
James kissed her again. He would be slow and careful. This time, this woman, were important. He had never been, he hoped, a hasty or completely selfish lover. The journey was all the sweeter if one took one’s time, the pleasure greater when it was shared. But in the end, it had been that burst of satisfaction for himself he sought, and anything else had been incidental.
But Laura . . . Laura was different from any woman he had ever bedded. She was innocent, untouched. He had to get it right; he had to make it good for her. He could not let the desire that clawed at him make him rush. Much as he wanted to drink deeply, he knew he must sip. Woo her in a way he’d never wooed before.
He rocked his mouth against hers, giving, inviting, teasing. The little noise she made deep in her throat, the way her fingers dug into his shoulders, were his reward and his temptation, making his heart slam in his chest, his nerves sizzle.
Their kiss deepened; it was she who stretched up to him, her lips insistent, her tongue eager. James jerked the tie of her robe undone, pushing the dressing gown back and down so that it fell from her. Now there was only the thin material of her gown between them, a barrier so flimsy it was more arousing than any sort of protection. He slid his hand down over her back, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. It was the most delicate, delicious torture.
He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. He took the lobe of her ear between his teeth and worried it gently until Laura’s breath hitched and she pressed her body into him, her hands sliding beneath his jacket and roaming over him. It was all he could do not to throw her back on the bed and take her right there and then.
James stepped back, ripping at the impediment of his clothes, wanting more than anything to feel her hands on his bare flesh. Jacket, shirt, shoes all came off haphazardly. His hands went to the buttons of his trousers and then stilled as he watched Laura reach down and take her nightgown in her hands, pulling it up and off over her head.
The simple cotton gown slipped up over her skin, more tantalizing than the boldest display of flesh, revealing her to his eyes inch by inch. The cloth snagged for an instant on her nipples, and that alone was enough to send a shudder of desire through him. Then her breasts were in full view, rounded and soft, centered by pale pink nipples, already tightened with arousal.
She stole a glance at him, her cheeks bright pink, her expression a curious mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. James came closer, his hands reaching out to cup her breasts. His voice was low and thick. “You are so beautiful.”
He slid his arms around her, pulling her gently against him. He kissed her again, and this time his mouth was hungry and insistent, drinking her in. He slipped a hand between them, gliding down over the satiny skin of her stomach and stealing between her legs. Laura started in surprise but did not pull back, instead parting her legs a little to accommodate him. He smiled against her mouth. Her willingness, even eagerness, ratcheted up his passion.
He was hard as a rock, aching to plunge into her, to feel her close and tight around him, but he held back, stroking and kissing, teasing the slick satiny folds until she moved against his hand, mutely urging him on.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he laid her on the bed and, quickly divesting himself of his remaining clothes, he lay down beside her. Her wide, solemn blue eyes were on him the entire time, warm and faintly dazed. Her mouth was rosy from their kisses, soft and faintly damp. It made him surge with the need to kiss her again.
He settled in to kiss her, as if he could spend the rest of his life on this only, but as his mouth moved on hers, his hand explored her body. Finally, when he felt he must shatter under the force of his desire, he slipped down her body, his mouth finding and caressing every place he had touched her.
Laura’s hands moved restlessly, her nails digging into him when he took her nipple into his mouth. She moaned, her pelvis circling. “James.”
“Again,” he murmured, his lips against her ear, and nipped at the fleshy lobe. “Say my name again.”
“James,” she responded. “James, James, James . . .” She curved her hands down over his back and dug her fingertips into his buttocks, surprising a groan from him. Laura turned her head, pressing her lips to his shoulder. He buried his face in her neck, stifling the words that threatened to flood from his mouth.
He moved between her legs, and she opened to him. As he began to slide into her, Laura tightened for an instant, but James continued to caress her, his hands light, his mouth soft and coaxing on her breast, and she relaxed. Again he moved, and he felt her give, and then he was deep inside her, her body clamped around him, so tight and hot that he went still, struggling to hold on to his control.
He hung there for a moment, poised on the edge between instinct and restraint. Laura slid her hands up his arms onto his shoulders, her touch tender, and it filled his chest with such an odd sweet feeling he could hardly bear it. He bent his head to kiss her and began to move within her. He heard her sharp indrawn breath, and he almost stopped, thinking he’d hurt her, but that was followed by a low hum, almost a purr, and she smiled up at him, her eyes lambent.
Now, at last, he let slip the leash of his control, st
roking in and out in an ever-building rhythm. He felt as if the world were hurtling through him, sweeping him toward some other unimaginable realm. She was soft and yielding beneath him, her heat drawing him in, surrounding him. And when she let out a soft cry as the pleasure took her, he surrendered to his own surging passion.
James collapsed against her, holding her tightly. He knew he was probably crushing her, should release her, but he could not move, could not let her go. Laura made no effort to pull away, only curled her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. There was no reason for that to make him feel so . . . well, he wasn’t even sure what it was he felt. Fierce, somehow, and strong, as if he could do anything, defeat anyone.
It was, he decided, the rush of life in him, the strength and health returning to him after so long. He was himself again. It had been days since a headache or a tremor. He no longer had to brace himself to go up or down the stairs, didn’t have to assume a mantle of ease. He’d returned to riding, and just the other day he had walked all the way down to the castle and back, not even thinking about it.
Tonight had been more evidence of that. The explosion of joy and release. Pleasure that he had thought he would never have again. The bone-deep satisfaction. Of course, he could not remember ever having felt quite this way before. It doubtless would not continue.
But he wasn’t about to give it up now. James rolled to his side, his arms tight around Laura, taking her with him. She nestled into his shoulder as he pressed a kiss into her hair. Closing his eyes, he drifted into sleep.
chapter 31
Laura lay listening to the quiet sound of James’s breathing, aware of the rise and fall of his chest against her back. She didn’t want to sleep yet; it was much too nice to drift in languid contentment, hugging her happiness to her.
She had taken a gamble tonight, knowing her hopes could crumble into dust with one harsh comment from James. But she had had to try it. And she had received more than she had expected or hoped. It had been worth the risk, the embarrassment, even the flash of pain. She had never realized that she could feel so much, want so much. Certainly she hadn’t imagined the paroxysm of pleasure that had rocked her.
It had been more than pleasure. It had been—she searched for a word that would adequately express what she had felt. Fulfillment. That was it. She had felt a wholeness, a completion—even though before now she had never noticed there was something missing.
James’s hold had loosened in his sleep. One arm lay thrown across her. She stroked her finger across his hand, tracing the underlying framework of bone and sinew. He was still too thin. Of course, the taut, honed look suited him—all sharp edges and cold intensity.
He had always borne the look of something coiled and waiting. Years ago, that had been all she saw. Those qualities were still there; James would never be cuddly. But now she saw beneath them to the man inside.
Or maybe it was just that she had been admitted to the small circle of those he cared for. Would he ever come to love her? Laura had no idea. It wasn’t something he believed in. Perhaps her heart would bruise over the years, banging up against the solid wall of his self-containment.
But Laura had no interest in wasting her time thinking about what might or might not happen. The future would take care of itself. Right here, right now, she had everything she wanted. And Laura planned to enjoy it.
When she awakened the next morning, Laura was alone in James’s bed, which was a little disappointing. Still, she could hardly expect him to loll about, waiting for her to wake up. It felt peculiar being in his room all by herself.
Laura rolled over, her face against his pillow. In some small, indefinable way it smelled like him. She nestled there, looking around the room. It brought back memories of those dark, fearful days when James had been so ill. But there were other things about it—his shaving soap and mug on the high shaving stand, the silver-backed masculine brush and comb on the dresser, the flat teak box, standing open to reveal cuff links and tie pins—that were all such reminders of James that they made her smile.
She slipped out of bed. Her dressing gown and night shift were folded neatly on the chair. It made Laura blush a little, wondering if Owen, now James’s valet, had picked them up and placed them there. Or had it been James’s fingers straightening and folding them? That made her blush a little, too, but in a better way.
Pulling on the shift, she belted the dressing gown around her and started toward the door. There, sitting on the dresser, was a tray with covered plates and a pot and cup. Picking up the covers, she found the plates filled with a sampling of the foods usually on the buffet downstairs. She smiled to herself as she poured a cup of tea. She was certain this tray had been sent by James. He was certainly thoughtful for a man who claimed to lack sensitivity.
There was too much food here, even as hungry as she felt this morning. She made a dent in it, though, before she left the room. Fortunately, she did not run into anyone as she slipped down the hall to her room. She wished there was a connecting door between their chambers.
As she bathed and dressed and pinned up her hair, she wondered when she would first see James today. No doubt he had already eaten breakfast and was in his office. How would he look at her when he saw her again? She hoped it would not be in front of other people; she feared everything that had passed between them would show on her face. Of course, she had the uneasy feeling that everyone would be able to tell that anyway as soon as they saw her.
Would he smile at her? Laura hated to think that he might look at her with that cool mask she had seen on his face many times. She thought of the light in his eyes last night, the way his lips had curved sensually. Just the memory of it sent warmth snaking through her.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to wonder long. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down the hallway toward the dining room, there was a clatter of nails on the floor from the opposite direction, and Laura turned to see Demosthenes loping down the hallway toward her.
Laura bent to greet the dog, and when she raised her head again, she saw James in the doorway of his office, shoulder propped negligently against the doorjamb. He was watching her, a smile curling up one side of his mouth, eyelids drooping down over the unmistakable heat in his eyes.
“Laura.” He levered away from the door and strolled toward her. “Did you have a pleasant sleep?”
She went to meet him, Dem trotting along beside her, tail wagging, tongue lolling out in a foolishly happy expression. Laura sympathized; if she wasn’t careful, that was the way she would be looking at James.
“I did,” Laura replied, unable to completely keep a smirk off her lips.
“That’s good to hear.” He stopped in front of her. The smile on his lips was faint and slightly sardonic, but the heat in his eyes was anything but casual. James propped his hand on the wall, leaning against it, and loomed closer. “One hopes you will continue to do so.”
“I suspect I might.” Laura linked her hands behind her back and smiled up at him flirtatiously. “Of course, it all depends.”
“And upon what does it depend?” Laughter lurked in his voice, but threaded through it was a fiercer, more urgent tone.
She curled her hands around his lapels, her face tilted up to him. “You, I believe.”
He ran a finger down the line of her buttons. “Does it? Then there’s little need to worry.” He hooked his finger into the waistband of her skirt, tugging her toward him. “For I intend to do all I can to help you.”
“Really?”
“Mm.” He bent and brushed her lips with his. “Really.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Her words sparked a brighter light in his eyes, and he kissed her again, his mouth hard and fierce and full of promise. When he straightened, he took a quick step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Blast. It’s a devil of a long time till night falls.” A rueful, vaguely puzzled smile flickered across his face. “You do the damnedest things to me.”
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“Do I?” Laura grinned, her spirits soaring. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m sure you are.” He leaned against the wall, gazing down into her eyes. “You delight in tormenting me.” His voice sounded amused, and the look in his eyes was still the one that turned her insides to mush.
“Tormenting you! I never—”
“Really?” James grinned. “What about those dresses you’ve been wearing the last week? The ones with the necklines down to here.” He reached out and ran a forefinger in a curve across the tops of her breasts. His eyes darkened. “And what about the times you leaned closer so I could see how utterly delicious you looked? How luscious you smelled.”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Laura could not keep from leaning toward him. She would have liked nothing better than to let her body curve into his. Why did there always have to be so many people around? Anyone could come upon them—though at the moment, she wasn’t sure she would care.
“Not notice!” His eyebrows shot upward, and he let out a funny little groan of a laugh. “How could I not?” He toyed with one of her buttons. “I thought I would go mad from wanting you.”
Laura stared. “But you never said a thing. You never—why did you not kiss me?”
He looked, not at her, but at the button between his fingers as he said in a low voice, “I didn’t want to break trust with you.”
“James . . .” She took his hand between hers, touched.
He looked into her eyes. “I promised you. You told me how little you wanted to share my bed.”
“People change.”
“So I’ve heard.” His hand curled around hers and he raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of her hand. “I didn’t dare hope you had.”
“Perhaps I could make amends for your suffering.”
“Oh?” He didn’t let go of her hand, but pulled it against his chest, his thumb making lazy circles in her palm. “How is that?”
“We could take a walk to help pass the time.”
