As You Wish (24 page)

“An ass?”  He swung around to look at her.  “I had the impression you found him . . . rather charming.”

“Charming?”  She smirked, rolling onto her side to face him.  “Right.  Don’t tell me you thought I’d fall for that insincere chivalry he reeks.”

“I don’t know.”  He scarcely believed his ears, but the amusement on her face looked genuine.  Could she indeed not have been attracted to his brother?

“Oh, please.”  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.  “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“But if William’s attentions didn’t affect you, why did you decide to discard your ring when he asked about it?”

“My ring?”  Her eyebrows crunched together then parted again.  “I guess I did mention that plan to him, but I made the decision before meeting him.  You mean you thought I wanted to let
him
know I was a free woman?”

He shrugged, prompting a tinkling laugh from her.  Her amusement might have mortified him, if the good news hadn’t left him too pleased to care.  “The conclusion seemed reasonable at the time.”

“Not at all, I’m afraid.”  She watched his face, her smile softening.  “Did you really think I preferred him over you?”

The caressing tone she used implied the opposite, and he felt his blood quicken.

“He is, by far, the more eligible.”

“Is he?”  Her eyes gleamed, glints of green contrasting with the burnished flecks in her loose hair.

She entranced him.  He wanted to know if he meant anything to her.  “Is he not?”

“Well, he’s not even here--but you must realize that even in the nineteenth century, you came out ahead of him.”  She paused, but when he waited for more, she obliged him.  “Between the two of you, you have all the integrity, more good looks and, after what we learned tonight, most of the wealth.”

He had hoped for a more personal answer, but her logical approach brought a new point to light.  Until that moment, he had not thought of one important privilege his father’s amends would have afforded him: the means to offer for Leah.  She appeared to care for him and, if she felt only half what he did for her, she might have consented to be his wife.  If so, he could have had her immediately--without having to spend years trying to establish himself.  Now, he had to wait . . . and who knew for how long?  He knew nothing of the world in which he’d have to build his fortune.

“Why the grim face?” she asked.  “I thought my overt flattery would please you.  I’d be insulted by your lack of response if I didn’t know you’re probably as exhausted as I am.  Do you realize how long we’ve been up?  The time transport extended our day.”

He looked into her eyes and knew the important thing was that he had the
chance
to win her.  He had never wanted anything handed to him.  Whatever was worthwhile in life was worth working for.

“I am weary, now that I think about it,” he said.

“Have a seat.”  She drew up toward the headboard, leaving space for him at the foot of the bed.

His gaze dropped to the mattress--on the
one bed
in the chamber.  He glanced about, wondering where he could sleep.  The two wooden chairs in the room looked hard and unsteady, useless for constructing any sort of pallet.

“Not on one of those uncomfortable chairs--over here.”  She patted the spot beside her.

He hesitated.  She looked so enticing, languishing on her side, her slim waist and the lush rise of her hip enhanced by the posture.  Her lips curved in an encouraging smile.

All at once, he recalled the discussion they’d had the night he brought her back to the gate house.  She had hinted at a “future” society where unmarried adults might make love without socially ruinous consequences.  Good Lord!  Now, he lived in that world with her!  Lady Isabella’s pairing them together for the night testified as much.  The implications stirred his loins, set his heart racing.  Dared he join her on the bed?

“It’s all right, David.”  Her smile faded into sober lines.  “We’ve sat next to each other before.”

And ended up in each other’s arms!
   He continued to balk, wondering how one conducted modern lovemaking.  Should he tell her he loved her?  He did love her, he realized, but in a world where unmarried couples cavorted freely, the sentiment might have become laughable.  What exactly did she expect from him?  Coming from this free society, she probably had experience in this arena--perhaps even more than he, considering all the years he’d spent in the military.

Whatever the answers, his uncertainty didn’t unsettle him enough to decline her invitation.  He stepped forward, gaze locked with hers.  Gingerly, he sat down on the bed, leaving a prudent space of six inches between them.  He didn’t have the audacity to lie back as she had.

“Let me help you with your tie.”  She sat up and unknotted his cravat, her fingers skimming the skin under his chin.  His neck felt hot as she slid the long, narrow cloth out from his collar.  “You smell good.”

“I do?”  His voice sounded husky to his own ears.  She wasn’t naive, and she would know where his thoughts had strayed.  Might she actually expect him to make love to her?  He fought to slow the tightening in his groin.  “I shouldn’t think so, after all of our traveling.”

“That fresh spring water must have rinsed away the dirt of the road.”  She leaned closer, her breath warm on his throat.  “You don’t smell like that cologne you usually wear.”

“I apologize--”

“No, I like your natural scent.”  She smiled and lowered her gaze, the first indication that she felt shy as well.  When she reached to unbutton his collar, he detected a trembling in her touch.  At least some of her boldness, he deduced, came only with an effort.

“What do I smell like?” he murmured.

She continued undoing his shirt, centering her gaze on his chest rather than meeting his eyes.  “Like David Traymore--warm and brimming with life . . . an unpinned grenade about to explode.”

He didn’t know what sort of grenade she meant, but, yes, he felt an explosion mounting within him.  With each brush of her fingers, lower and lower on his torso, his body teetered into a more precarious state.

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to look into her eyes.  “Leah, I am not certain how to go about this . . .”

“Oh, yes, you are.”  Finished with his buttons, she focused her gaze on his mouth.  She reached up and grazed a finger along his lower lip.  “I know you’re perfectly certain what to do.”

Her confidence convinced him he did.  He slipped his hand up from her chin to cradle the side of her face.  Her hair felt silky on his fingers, her cheek soft and warm against his palm.  He leaned forward and touched her lips with his, savoring the taste of her, relishing the faint scent of rosewater that still lingered about her.

He intended to bridle his passions, but he didn’t count on her hungry response.  She returned his kiss with all the ardor he had meant to delay, kindling embers that burned deep in his body.  Her lips parted, inviting him to meet the moist warmth of her tongue.  He dipped into her mouth and withdrew to taste her lips, repeating and varying the motion like an ever-changing dance.  She matched him at every move, their minds and bodies rapt in instinctive unison.

“Let me help you undo your dress,” he whispered against her mouth.  Still kissing her, he reached around and slid his hand across her shoulder blades.  He found the tab he sought and pulled the zipping device downward.  The ease of the task made him smile against her lips.  “With these modern fasteners, you no longer need my help.”

“I like having it, anyway.”  She spoke softly, breathlessly.  “Help me some more.”

“My pleasure.”  He gave up her mouth in order to look at her.  Her hair hung free, flowing like claret to create a brilliant frame for her creamy complexion.  One side of her dress had fallen to expose a perfect shoulder.

He dropped his gaze to her
decolletage
, grazing her exposed collarbone with the backs of his fingers.  As he slipped his hand under her loosened neckline, the draped fabric fell from her other shoulder.

Modern undergarments left little unexposed, and he let his fingertips glide down the sides of her barely swathed breasts. Marveling at her graceful form, he ran his hands over the contours of her ribs and the yielding warmth of her slender belly.  As he pushed her dress downward, he skimmed her firm thighs, then retraced a path up over her hips and waist.

She reached back and undid her sparse bodice piece, the slackened garment revealing more of her luscious curves.  He slid his hands up to savor the soft flesh, and the garment fell from her, unveiling her lovely breasts.

With one last hard stare into her eyes, he slid his arms around her body and lowered her onto the mattress.  He took one pink nipple in his mouth, the tender tip instantly pebbling against his tongue.

She sucked in her breath and pulled him closer, digging her nails into his back.  Intoxicated by her taste, her warmth, her scent, he lost himself in a swirl of sensation, devouring her like some sort of magical elixir laced with sugar, fortified brandy and rose petals.

She wriggled beneath him, conforming to him snugly.  He felt her fingers in his hair, tightening as her body flexed against his.  She slid her hand down his jaw and lifted his face up so he looked at her.

“Come up here,” she whispered.

He lingered in parting with her breast then moved up to take her mouth again.  She kissed him back, squeezing her hand between their bodies to unfasten his breeches.  The binding fabric gave way, and he felt the dizzying warmth of her hand on his aching shaft.

Spellbound, he deepened his kiss.  She pressed her hips into his, the timeless movement blinding his mind with the demands of instinct.  He had none of the patience he ought in order to make love to her properly.  He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Leah.”  He moaned and pulled back to look into her eyes.  “Leah, it feels like I have wanted you forever . . .”

“Shhhh.”  Her gaze bored into his eyes, and her breath came in puffs.  Before he knew what she intended, she shimmied out of her strange connected stockings, then reached up to slide his shirt off his shoulders.

Quick to join her, he kicked off his shoes and scrambled out of his breeches.  With a hungry survey of her naked beauty, he swept her into his arms again and fell down on the mattress with her.  She parted her legs, and he sank between her thighs, his entire body pounding with consciousness of the precipice they perched upon.

“Kiss me, David,” she murmured.

He stretched to take her lips again, keenly aware of the soft heat engulfing his loins at the core of her body.  She squirmed to fit more snugly around him, and he pressed back, feasting on her mouth.  She wriggled again and, with no thought or self-guidance, he felt himself dip inside of her.

They both gasped.  Staring hard into her wide eyes, he pushed into her, captivated by how slick and hot she felt.  She closed her eyes and let her head drop back, pressing her hips upward to take him deep inside her.  She wanted him, and the knowledge made him mad with hunger for her.  He should have been careful, should have been considerate, but he could think only of getting into her deeper, harder, till they became one in body and soul.

He needn’t have concerned himself for Leah’s sake.  Before he reached a critical state, she cried out and shuddered beneath him.  Frenzied by her moans and the dizzying contractions of her body, he thrust deeper into her, quickly following her with his own shattering orgasm.

He spilled his seed deep within her, holding her tightly.  For that instant, nothing else mattered--nothing on earth, nothing throughout time--only that he and Leah had become one.

When he could, he opened his eyes and saw that she watched him.  Her face pinkened and dewy with perspiration, she looked radiant--like an angel or an enchantress.  He wiped traces of tears from the corners of her eyes, longing to ask why she cried but preferring to make his own conclusion.  He hoped her emotions had matched his own.

He kissed her gently and lifted his body to lie beside her.  She snuggled into his chest, and they lay in silent communion for some time.  He wanted to tell her he loved her but didn’t know whether he would sound daft or antiquated.  Instead, he kissed her hair, stroked her arms, wondering what the future held for them.  Would she marry him? 
Did
people still marry, given that sex out of wedlock was accepted?  She had told him her parents had married, but only due to her own conception.

So, an illegitimate child was still considered undesirable.  His stomach turned over, ending his brief period of absolute contentment.  A bastard was still unacceptable in this society. 
He
would be unacceptable.

“What is it, David?” Leah asked.  “You’re all tense.”

He tried to swallow the sour feeling but had no success.  “Leah, how does your society view someone . . . someone born like me --out of wedlock?”

“At a time like this, you’re worried about being illegitimate?”  She hugged him.  “No one’s going to know anything about your birth, anyway.  We can’t very well tell people the truth.”

“But you and I know the truth.  And I don’t want to lie to others.  I shall conceal what I have to, but I won’t pretend I am something other than what I am.  I am a bastard now, as surely as I was in the nineteenth century.”

“All right, if that’s the way you feel, but you still have no reason to worry.  I’d say there’s pretty much no stigma attached to that label anymore.”

“You’d ‘
say
’?”  He frowned at her.  “That sounds ambiguous.  I suspect there is a stigma, Leah, or why would your parents have felt compelled to marry against their will?”

She shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to face him.  “That was more than a quarter-century ago, and my parents are sort of old-fashioned anyway.”

“So your father does not look kindly upon bastards?”

She grinned and shook her head.  “I don’t think he cares either way.”

“I disagree.  If he married your mother to ensure your legitimacy, then he must care.”

“I doubt that avoiding social stigma was his only concern.  There are other reasons to bring a child up with two parents-- supportive reasons, both financially and emotionally.  Besides, what do you care what my father thinks?  You don’t have to answer to him.”