A Kiss In The Dark (29 page)

Thank God.

Grazing his hand up the inside of her silken thigh, he let his eyes take a visual survey of the bounty before him. With her pale skin gleaming in the firelight and her red hair spread out on the pillow around her, she truly was lovely. Slender and delicate, she possessed the supple grace of a willow, her curves well rounded without being overly ample. Her full breasts were just enough to fill his hands, topped with succulent pink crests that made his mouth water.

Still rosy and damp from his earlier ministrations, they tempted him now, and he couldn’t keep himself from leaning down and delicately tonguing one distended peak, wringing a mewling cry from her lips.

The triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs drew his attention next. Sliding down her body, he combed his hand through the auburn curls and felt her go still at his touch. It was almost as if she were holding her breath, waiting for his next move.

She didn’t have long to wait. With his thumb, he separated her dewy feminine folds and pressed a finger just inside the opening to her slick canal, testing her readiness. Moisture immediately drenched his finger, and she tossed her head on the pillow, her hips bucking against him.

She was most definitely ready, but there was something he had to know before things went any further. As hard as he’d tried, he couldn’t seem to completely banish the images of Deirdre lying underneath the late viscount like this, letting him love her the way Tristan was loving her now. The image seemed wrong somehow, and though he knew he had no right to his jealousy, there it was, larger than life and undeniable.

Continuing to stroke her slippery flesh with knowing finesse, he levered himself up far enough to look down at her once again, willing her to meet his gaze so he would be able to see the truth in her eyes.

“Tell me your husband never made you feel like this,” he growled, the words an order, a command. “Tell me.”

She sucked in a quavering breath as his finger penetrated even deeper, and her lashes fluttered as she seemed to struggle to focus on his face. “No, Tristan. No one else has ever made me feel this way. Only you.”

It was enough. Feeling a burst of primal male satisfaction, he moved to center himself at the entrance to her velvety passage. With a flex of his hips, he thrust home.

And instantly felt himself break through an unexpected barrier that shouldn’t have been there.

Shocked and confused, her cry of pain ringing in his ears, he froze and reared up, barely able to comprehend the importance of what he had just discovered through the haze of his desire.

The widow had been a virgin!

Her body still absorbing the shock of Tristan’s intimate invasion, Deirdre lay unmoving, allowing herself time to get used to the feeling of his rigid length sheathed to the hilt inside her. As the initial burning sensation gradually started to fade, however, she noticed the startled look on his face and began to panic.

He couldn’t pull back! Not now! Afraid he was prepared to do just that, she gripped his shoulders and locked her legs around his tautly muscled flanks, tilting her pelvis upward in a way that caused him to slide even further into her tight channel.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her nails digging into the skin of his back. “Please don’t stop.”

As she moved sinuously beneath him, he squeezed his eyes shut, a harsh, guttural groan escaping from between clenched teeth. For a second she was certain he was going to disregard her plea. Then, gripping her hips in a firm, yet gentle, hold, he began to rock against her, sliding in and out, setting up a steady rhythm that soon had her forgetting any discomfort she’d previously felt. She rose to meet him.

It was a perfect melding, unlike anything she had ever imagined. The feel of him moving within her, a part of her, was wonderful in itself. But as the wild, thrilling friction continued, she became aware of a slowly building pleasure, a quickening in her womb that carried her higher and higher to some unknown destination.

Reaching the pinnacle, she cried out at the same time as Tristan stiffened above her, giving a hoarse shout, her name sounding like a benediction on his lips. His seed erupted within her and he slumped over, his chest heaving as his powerful frame was wracked with shudders.

And Deirdre knew she would never be the same again. There could no longer be any denying it.

She was in love with him.

I
n the quiet aftermath of their loving, the two of them lay entwined, their bodies cooling and their hearts slowing to normal as the storm raged outside.

Tristan was the first to recover. Carefully disengaging himself, he collapsed onto his back next to her, looping an arm around her shoulders to snuggle her against his side.

“Why?”

His question, spoken so close to her ear, caused her to start, and she craned her neck to look up at him. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t sound angry, and his expression gave nothing away, but she felt her mouth go dry with apprehension just the same. “You mean, why didn’t I tell you I’d never done this before?”

He nodded.

She attempted a casual shrug that didn’t quite succeed. “I don’t know. I suppose at first I thought you wouldn’t believe me. And then …”

“Then?”

“I was afraid if you knew you wouldn’t want me.”

“That was a bloody ridiculous notion.”

“Was it?” Jerking away from him, she sat up, leveling him with an accusing glare. “For a moment, when you first realized, you almost pulled away. Didn’t you?”

“That wasn’t because I didn’t want you. I wanted you more than my next breath.” He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “For God’s sake, Deirdre, you were married. Of course I was startled to find out you were untouched. I think my hesitation was only natural in the circumstances.”

Deirdre glanced away, bowing her head and pulling the sheet further up over her breasts. “Perhaps.”

There was a rustling sound behind her, then a gentle hand touched her shoulder. “Not that I’m unhappy about it, but how could Rotherby be married to you and not make love to you? Was he impotent?”

She turned back to find that he had propped himself up against the headboard and was watching her expectantly, waiting for an explanation. The drape of the blanket had fallen below his lean hips, barely covering that part of him that had given her such ecstasy, and she felt her cheeks heat before she yanked her gaze back to his face.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. I suppose at his age it was possible, but he never mentioned it. Of course, it’s not precisely a subject a gentleman discusses—”

“Deirdre, you’re rambling.”

She knew it, but the entire topic made her uncomfortable. The very thought of being with Nigel in the same way she’d been with Tristan was unthinkable to her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before continuing. “Nigel and I didn’t have that sort of relationship. He was like a father to me and I was like a daughter to him.”

“Then why wed? Was it because of the rumors?”

“In part. Nigel knew of the
ton
’s speculations, of course, and they were bad enough when I was a child. But as I grew older, the whispers got worse. They became vicious, tawdry. He wanted to protect me and decided that marriage was the best option. I was very young, only seventeen, but at least as his wife I was afforded some measure of respect, even if it was just for show.”

Her fingers tightened on the covers. “And then there was the question of inheritance. Nigel’s first wife and his daughter were killed in a boating accident several years before I came along. He was the last of his line, and there were no distant male relatives to take over the title. An adopted child has few rights in the courts of England, and with his death everything would have been lost.”

“So, he married you to make sure you were provided for.”

“Yes.”

Tristan was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he contemplated all she’d told him. When he finally spoke again, his words carried a note of grudging respect. “He must have been quite a man.”

“He was.” She smiled reminiscently as her memories of her late husband flooded over her. “I didn’t make things easy for him the first few years I lived here. I was sullen and difficult, but he never gave up. For the first time in my life, I knew what unconditional love felt like. I’ll be forever grateful to him for that.”

Her eyes misted with tears. Becoming a widow at nineteen had not been something she’d been prepared to deal with, and the past year of her life had been difficult without Nigel. Sometimes it had seemed the only thing that had kept her going had been her work with the people of Tothill.

And then she’d met Tristan, and everything had changed. In just two short days, he’d managed to touch her in a way no one else ever had. Not even the viscount.

He’d made her fall in love with him.

She wasn’t certain exactly when it had happened. Perhaps it had been when she’d witnessed his kindness to Lilah, or when she’d seen the way he’d been with both Benji and Gracie, so gentle and patient. Or it might have been when he’d come to her rescue in Dan’s club, or even last night, when he’d held her in his arms while she’d cried.

But regardless of when or how it had occurred, the results were the same. She’d given her heart to the tender, caring man he tried to hide beneath that gruff façade, and she was very much afraid he would take it with him when he left.

That he
would
leave, she had no doubt. It was only a question of how soon they found Emily. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that what had happened between them tonight meant as much to him as it did to her. He was quite obviously an expert and experienced lover who had more than likely been with numerous women over the years. While her whole world had shifted on its axis, she had to remember that for him their lovemaking had been nothing more than an enjoyable interlude, a way to distract himself from the demons that tormented him.

And that was probably for the best, she decided, biting her lip. Even if by some miracle Tristan happened to return her feelings, any sort of life together would be next to impossible. She would spend every second of every day worrying about whether or not he would discover the secrets she kept and hate her for them.

“You still should have told me.”

His statement brought her out of her ruminations, and she looked up to meet his serious gaze. “Excuse me?”

“I had a right to know you were a virgin, Deirdre. I could have—Damn!” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I could have taken my time, been more gentle, made it better for you.”

“It could have been better?” Deirdre was shocked. “I don’t think I would have survived it!”

When he gave her a doubtful look, she leaned over and laid a hand along his cheek, feeling the stubble of his evening’s growth of beard beneath her palm. It was hard to believe this man could be uncertain about anything, especially his ability to please a woman, but it was there to see in the depths of his troubled violet eyes.

“Tristan, I swear to you, I wouldn’t have changed a thing about it,” she reassured him earnestly. “It was perfect, even more wonderful than I ever imagined.”

Relief suffused his features, and a slow smile spread over his face. Reaching out, he twined his fingers with hers and tugged her toward him. “In that case, I don’t suppose I could persuade you to give me a chance to improve my performance?”

A chill raced through her as his thumb caressed the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.
Take advantage of every last second you have with him
, her mind whispered,
for tomorrow he might be gone
.

“What a marvelous idea.” She dropped a kiss on his chin, then slid her free hand under the covers to boldly stroke him, delighting in the feel of his hard, hot length under her fingertips. It was like steel encased in velvet. “I was just going to suggest that very thing.”

He emitted a choked cry and bucked against her touch, even as he seemed to grow larger and longer under her ministrations. Gripping her hips, he pulled her atop him so that she straddled his thighs, the very tip of his manhood poised at the entry to her silken sheath.

“Always your servant, my lady,” he growled, then buried himself inside her, once again carrying her off to paradise.