Diamonds and Dreams (29 page)

At that moment, Saber knew with certainly he
would not tell her who he was until he absolutely had to. The
thought of her feeling she should bow to him irritated him greatly.
He would prove to her how beautiful she was, yes, but without
admitting who he was. “Goldie, I seriously doubt you could do
something so wrong as to be beheaded for it.”

She saw that softness in his gaze again. It
sent her senses reeling. “Saber.”

He knew exactly what she was feeling. He
felt it too. “Goldie,” he started, desire coiling through him.
“What happened between us yesterday in the closet...”

“I know. We’re supposed to forget it
happened,” she replied, trying to ignore her disappointment.

“And have you forgotten it?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “Have you?”

“I tried.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No.” He placed his hands on her cheeks.
“Goldie.”

“Saber.”

He bent closer to her, his eyes only a
fraction of an inch away from hers.

“Are you gonna kiss me, Saber?” she asked,
her voice trembling.

“Is the thought so terrible?”

“No, but...”

“But what?”

“I—Saber, I don’t know how to kiss.”

“Then let me teach you.”

“But what if you laugh? What if—” She never
finished her questions.

Saber’s lips were suddenly upon hers.

He kissed her as softly as he knew how, only
touching his lips to hers. Smoothing them across hers, he relished
the satiny texture of her mouth. Desire exploded inside him, but he
felt profound yearning to go slowly with her, to woo her gently,
allowing all his tender feelings for her to come forth. This in
mind, he lifted his head and smiled down at her.

Goldie’s fingers trembled as she touched her
mouth. She traced her lips, remembering the kiss Saber had just
placed upon them. A myriad of intense emotions swirled through her.
She felt warm. Elated. She felt a tremendous want for something she
instinctively knew Saber could give her.

But she didn’t know how to ask for it.
Didn’t even know if it was right for her to do so. She knew only
that his kiss had meant more to her than anything anyone had ever
done for her. “You didn’t laugh,” she whispered. “You don’t look
mad either. And you really did kiss me. I didn’t dream it.”

The expression of pure wonder in her huge
tawny eyes set Saber afire. God, she was so innocent. So fresh and
unspoiled. “You think your ignorance to be an undesirable thing,
don’t you, Goldie?” he asked, his understanding steadily deepening.
“You’re ashamed that you know so little about the things that can
happen between a man and a woman. Ah, golden angel, if only you
knew what your sweet inexperience means to me.”

She blinked, wanting with all her heart to
believe the wonderful things he was telling her. “I—You could show
me. Show me what it means to you.”

Her poignant offer touched the deepest part
of him. She stood before him, vulnerable. He could almost read her
thoughts. She knew very well she stood the chance of being hurt by
him, and yet she was hoping he wouldn’t do that to her.

It was the beginning of trust, and she was
giving him the chance to prove himself worthy of it. His heart
soared.

“Yes, Goldie,” he whispered, kissing her
cheek, “I could show you. Put your arms around my neck and let
me.”

She did and caught the faint scent of
sandalwood when he bent down to her. The fragrance beckoned to her.
Hesitantly, she pressed her face into the warm hollow of his
throat. Her lips parted, and she felt a strange, but intense desire
to taste the warm skin beneath them. Before she even realized what
she was doing, she was fulfilling her own wish.

Saber groaned when he felt her tongue
darting so lightly upon his throat. “Goldie. Goldie. God, what do
you do to me?” he asked huskily.

She lifted her face from him immediately,
her arms falling to her sides. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do
anything.”

“I think,” he started, swallowing, “that
that is precisely why you succeed in doing it to me.”

She gasped when he swept her into his arms.
“Saber—”

“Goldie, let me show you. Let me show
you.”

She looked into his beautiful seaweed eyes,
finding nothing in them to distrust. She nodded and felt
anticipation rise.

He carried her to the window, something
inside him wanting to see the pale silver of the moonlight mingle
with the burnished gold of her hair. There, he sank to the floor,
carrying her with him. “I have a confession to make,” he said, his
voice as soft as the tawny stars he saw in her eyes. “Yesterday as
you slept beneath the lace...I watched you, Goldie.”

Her eyes widened; she felt her cheeks heat.
Profound embarrassment coursed through her. That he’d seen
her—naked again. With all of her defects. She covered her face with
her hands.

Gently, he removed her hands, holding them
captive in his own. “I stood there mesmerized, Goldie. I thought
you were so beautiful, I couldn’t even move while gazing at you.
Light touched you all over, as did the lace. You were white and
gold, and shadow. So delicate, gentle, and soft.”

“Saber, you shouldn’t have—”

“I know. I know, Goldie. It was wrong. But I
couldn’t make myself leave. Your golden curls were spread all over
your little white pillow, and you looked like an angel. I stared at
those incorrigible ringlets and knew a deep yearning to slide my
fingers through them. Like this, Goldie. Like this.”

Her eyes fluttered closed when he slowly
pushed his fingers into her hair. Humiliation seized her when his
hand stopped suddenly. She knew very well he could get his fingers
no further. Her curls were simply too thick, too wild for him to
get through them. She took hold of his hand, having every intention
of removing it.

“It knew it would be like this,” he murmured
down to her, resisting her efforts to pull at his hand. “I knew
your curls would capture my fingers. It’s as if they’re alive. They
twist and coil around my hand. As if they’re embracing me. Soft.
God, they’re so soft, Goldie. The softest things I’ve ever
touched.”

She opened her eyes. “Saber...really?”

He smiled, removed his hand from her hair,
and touched his thumb to each of her eyelids, “Devil eyes, Goldie?
No. Of course I’ve never seen Lucifer, but I can’t imagine that he
has beautiful eyes. Only an angel could have eyes like yours. Gold
eyes. And have you never given a thought to how costly gold is? How
valuable? Yet real gold, as precious as it is, is lifeless, isn’t
it? It doesn’t move, does it? And it’s cold, too. But your
eyes...so warm. They’re like huge gold coins that dance in tune to
your thoughts. Gold brought to life. How enchanting.”

She blinked several times, sure this was a
dream and that she would wake up soon. “Gold brought to life,” she
repeated quietly, loving the way those words sounded.

His hands moved along the sides of her face
“A heart. Your face is the shape of a heart. A dainty one,
perfectly formed. And your lips. God, how lovely they are. Little,
but full. Pink, lush. Do you know, Goldie Mae, that when I look at
them I always think about how kissable they are?”

His question stole her breath. Her throat
tightened, her body quivered. Saber. Her mouth formed the name, but
no sound came.

He raised an ebony brow. “And about those
freckles of yours...” he began, deliberately letting his voice
trail away. “I must be honest with you, Goldie. I don’t know a
single woman who has any.”

Her growing pleasure disappeared, replaced
with sorrow so great it made her ache. “Saber, please don’t—”

“And all those women I know,” he continued,
a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “are the same. Their
complexions look like they all came out of the same bottle. So
flawless, so utterly without blemish that they’re really quite
boring. But
your
complexion—As I watched you sleeping
yesterday, I thought of warm, rich cream with flecks of cinnamon on
top.”

Confusion seized her. She didn’t know
whether to feel flattered or hurt. She floated somewhere between
both, ready to go toward one or the other as soon as he
elaborated.

“If I look close,” he told her, bending
nearer, “I can see pictures on your face. Here,” he said, touching
her left cheekbone, “your freckles form a little star. And here,”
he said, caressing her chin, “is a diamond. Next to it is a flower.
How fascinating. A girl with stars and diamonds and flowers on her
face. What a good time heaven must have had designing your
complexion. Close your eyes and think of all those little cherubs,
each with a bucket of freckles. Each one arranging the freckles to
form pretty pictures. How special that makes you, Goldie.”

She did as bade, closing her eyes and
smiling when she imagined the chubby angels with their buckets of
freckles. Her pleasure came back to her.
How special that makes
you, Goldie.
The words sang through her.

“Open your eyes now, Goldie.” When she did,
he saw her happiness. It shone, danced, and flickered prettily for
him. The sight filled him with warm contentment, and he realized he
was truly enjoying coercing her to see herself as he saw her. It
was a challenge, yes, but oh, how sweet the reward!

Slowly, he moved his gaze from her eyes to
her breasts. Her brown frock covered them. He would remedy that
problem.

Goldie felt a surge of panic when his
fingers began tugging at the shoulder of her dress. He slid it down
to her upper arm. “Saber—”

“Peaches,” he informed her on a long, heavy
breath, and moved his hand to her other arm to slide the dress down
that one, too. “How can you think of figs, Goldie? Unripened ones!
Don’t you know they’re hard? Your breasts...figs? No, Goldie.
Peaches. Peaches,” he whispered huskily, “are soft.”

Goldie gasped when he slid his hand inside
her dress. His warm palm cupped her breast. Starting at her nipple,
the feelings he evoked radiated throughout her entire body, leaving
quivers in their wake. A strange, flowing pleasure writhed within
her.

“Soft,” he told her again, his voice deep
and mellow as he pulled the dress down to her waist. “Think of
peaches. A swirl of pastel colors. Round, warm. Feel how nicely
they fit into my hand, Goldie. They’re neither too big, nor too
small. They’re perfect.”

“Peaches?” she asked, so thrilled with his
description she could think of no more words to tell him.

His other hand moved to cup her other one.
He held them both, and felt rising excitement. But he summoned
patience, renewing his vow to go slowly with the golden treasure
lying in his lap. “And see how prettily they blush. Ah, Goldie, see
how beautiful they are next to my hands.”

Her gaze left his eyes, sweeping to her
breasts. Her cheeks warmed again at the sight. No one had ever
touched her so intimately. So gently. And her breasts
did
fit into his palms. They fit as though they had been made for his
hands.

His alone. The thought was so beautiful to
her.

As leisurely as possible, Saber slid his
thumbs back and forth upon the stiffening peaks of her breasts. He
became lost both in the pleasure shimmering from her golden eyes
and the low mewling sounds escaping from her slightly parted lips.
“Goldie,” he told her, wanting her to understand every emotion he
put into the sound of her name. “You are so delicate. Yes, Goldie,
you
are
a poppet. Small, precious, and irresistible. Your
daintiness is not a thing to ridicule. It’s a thing to prize. I
often imagine you being swept away in a strong wind, and the
thought makes me yearn to hold you close to me. In my arms. Where
you’ll be safe, and no wind can steal you from me.

“And when I call you a poppet,” he continued
silkily, “that is the picture I have in my mind. You. In my arms.
Me. Holding you like this, Goldie. God, just like this.”

He pulled her from his lap, holding her as
he would a fine and precious doll, and let forth a low moan when
her bare breasts touched his chest. His hand plundered the golden
mass of curls lying on his arm. His other hand held her tightly to
him.

And he kissed her. It was a kiss of passion,
longing, and a tenderness so deep it almost hurt as it flowed
through him. “Goldie,” he told her, his lips still pressed to hers.
“Open for me.”

His voice seemed to be coming from a hundred
miles away. But somehow it found its way through the haze of
pleasure he’d brought.
Open for me,
he’d told her.

Saber groaned when her lips parted for him.
He’d never known such sweetness existed. Desire such as he’d never
felt for any other woman took hold of him. He touched her breast
again. He held it. Savored the way it felt.

And wanted to taste it.

“Peaches,” he whispered, lifting his face
from hers. His lips at her chin, he began the slow, delicious
journey to her breasts.

“Saber.” She tensed at this new thing he was
doing to her.

His lips found and loved her. “Peaches,” he
murmured, his mouth full of her. “Sweet. So sweet.”

Goldie felt wave after wave of longing rock
through her. How she yearned for...for something that would satisfy
her! That would put an end to this glorious agony Saber brought to
her. “Saber, your mouth—Your lips—”

“And hands,” he added, and slid his hand
down the smooth, flat expanse of her ivory belly. Lower he went.
Still lower until his hand disappeared beneath her skirt. The
sensual blazes grew higher within him when he found no
undergarments to delay his quest. “God, Goldie. You wear
nothing—Nothing under your dress.”

“Oh, Saber. Not there. You can’t...
I—Please.”

His fingers stopped. He let them rest
unmoving upon the silken nest at the apex of her thighs. He waited
in silence for her to give him some clue as to what she wanted him
to do. “Tell me,” he whispered, his tongue circling her breast.
“Tell me, Goldie.”