Passionate (23 page)

He strode over to where she stood beside the rose-woman and held out his hand. “No,” he said. “I don’t imagine that I will.”

Chapter 16

He could see the warm color rise on her cheeks. She glanced down to her sketchbook and then back to him. The look she gave him made his blood quicken.

“Tell me, James, what outrageous bribes did you pay in order to arrange for our presence here this afternoon?”

“Outrageous bribes? I wouldn’t go so far as to call them outrageous.”

Lily smiled. “Outrageous or not, I thank you.” She swept her arm to encompass the room. “For all of this.”

“It was nothing—” he started to say, but before he could finish she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The sudden unexpected gesture said more than any words of thanks ever could. He looked at her, her smiling eyes, her lips slightly parted—how easy it would be…

As if sensing his thoughts she took a step back, hand going to her hair. The air between them was heavy with awareness—they were alone. She glanced about, her eyes fixing on the balcony that ringed the hall. “I would love to see the mosaics from above. It would provide an excellent change in perspective.”

“Then by all means.” He held out his hand to her and after an instant’s hesitation she took it, allowing him to lead her to the stairs. They climbed in silence, her slender hand in his.

“Look,” she said, going to the low railing of the balcony. “They are like paintings from here. One can hardly see the individual bits of colored glass and tile.”

Directly below them lay a mosaic of Neptune driving a chariot over the waves, his hair in wild locks, a long blue scarf draped over his arms. Lily studied it a moment. “Would you like to know what I see?

James nodded. “Very much.”

“The scarf shows the movement of the chariot. See how it billows back? And it echoes the stripe of blue along his horses. Whoever conceived this design had an excellent model. Look at Neptune’s face, so full of intent and purpose. And his form, perfectly proportioned. See how the artist used darker tesserae to bring out the muscles of his…chest.” She halted, blushing.

James watched the transformation from artist to woman. Neptune was as unclothed as the rose woman she had sketched earlier. “The Romans’ code of dress was rather more relaxed than our own. Do you think them immodest?”

She looked down again at Neptune.

“No,” she said at last, “not immodest. They seem more idealistic. Here is a male figure so well-formed that he can represent a god. And the rose woman—a female whose unadorned beauty rivals that of her flowers. But tell me, what do you see?”

James looked at the images arrayed below. “There,” he pointed. “A warrior carrying a woman.” In the mosaic, the woman’s naked breasts were pressed hard against the warrior’s bronzed skin, her arms clasped around his neck—he was bearing her where he would. James recalled standing at the bow of the
Sidonia
, Lily in his arms—how she had responded to his kisses and melted into his embrace.

He straightened and stepped towards her. “It seems the Romans were less idealistic about love.”

“I think not. See how her arms are wrapped so tightly around the warrior’s neck. Perhaps he has just returned after a long absence and we see them in that moment of reunion. He is not bearing her anywhere she does not wish to go.”

James caught her hand. “Come then. Let us see what refreshments have been provided—or would you rather I tossed you over my shoulder and carried you in the Roman fashion?”

“Oh…” Her eyes opened wide, but she met his gaze and did not look away.

He led her to where a door stood open midway down the gallery. The room inside was furnished with a low, silk-draped couch and two backless chairs. The inlaid table beside them was set with an array of refreshments, and from the arched, open windows beyond came the sound of the fountain splashing in the courtyard pool.

“How perfect.” Lily was looking everywhere but at him, though she made no move to pull her hand away, and he did not release her. “Like something from the Arabian Nights. I feel as though we have stepped into a fable.”

He did not have to carry her off—she would come willingly. This day would be about her pleasure, and he had far more than gazing at mosaics in mind.

James drew her inside and closed the door.

It was perfect—an ideal setting for an afternoon of slow, sweet kisses. “If this is a room from a storybook, then you must be the Persian princess. Take your ease, my lady.” He seated her on the couch, then poured two goblets from the moisture-beaded flagon on the table.

“What is it?”

He tasted. “Chilled honey-wine.”

She took the goblet he held out, and sipped. “It’s very…unusual. But quite refreshing.”

He took a swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat. “What else do you desire, my princess? Tangerines, pistachios, honeyed dates?”

She leaned back into the silken cushions and inhaled. “A tangerine—as the scent of citrus blossoms is filling the air. Peeled and segmented, please, as befits my rank.”

He selected one and drove his thumb in, peeling the rind away in one curving whole. Juice trickled between his fingers. “It’s quite messy. I wouldn’t want it to drip on your gown.”

“How shall I eat it, then?”

“Allow me to assist you.” He went to his knees before her and held out a slice, lifting it to her lips. Her gaze flew to his face, then to his fingers, holding the succulent tangerine slice. After a brief hesitation she opened her mouth. He placed it against her lips, then slid it slowly inside, letting his fingers brush the softness of her lips. Where would this game lead them? Her eyes closed—he could see the shiver of sensuality and awareness flow over her. Heat tightened his groin.

“Another?”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “They are delicious. But be careful—I could become accustomed to such luxuries.”

“Then it would be my pleasure to indulge you.” He brought another piece to her waiting mouth.

This time she leaned forward and flicked her tongue against his fingertips, then slowly licked the juice from them. He nearly groaned aloud at the sensation.

“My turn.” With a teasing smile, she took a slice from him and placed it against his lips. A rush of tangy citrus filled his mouth. He opened and took her finger in, savoring the sweet juice with his tongue. She drew in a sharp breath.

“It tastes delicious from your fingers,” he said, “But it would be better still from your lips.”

Her eyes heavy-lidded, she parted her lips, allowing him to set the last slice of tangerine between them, the fruit partially exposed. His heart pounding, James leaned forward and opened his mouth over hers. It was the sweetest kiss he had ever tasted—the cool, wet tangerine, the hot moistness of her mouth. He let his tongue lightly touch hers.

“James.” Her voice was a sigh of pleasure.

He brought his hands to cup her face and brushed his lips against hers. She trembled at the touch and laid her hands on his shoulders.

She tasted of oranges and honey. His lips quested at the corners of her mouth, finding the sweetness and savoring it, keeping his kisses light. He slid his fingers back into her hair, thumbs tracing the delicate curves of her ears. She swayed forward, the curves of her breasts brushing his coat.

Slanting his mouth over hers, he opened his mouth and let his tongue smooth along the line of her lips. It opened, granting him access to the warmth, the wetness, her tongue lightly flicking against his, eager to join in the dance. Heat spread out from their fused mouths, slid through his veins like honeyed fire. She was so beautiful, so responsive.

“Wait,” she breathed, pulling back. “You have pleased me well. Come, join me on my throne.” She patted the cushions.

He shifted, settling beside her and taking her hands. Lacing his fingers through hers he said, “I would like to please you more.”

Her eyes met his, curiosity and desire flaring in their depths. “Yes.”

She lifted her hand and set it against his cheek, slipping it in a soft arc over his face, then around to the back of his neck. The feel of her fingers brushing against his hair incited such yearning, such desire. He pulled her to him, one arm curving around her waist. His lips quested along her jaw, nibbling at the soft skin of her neck, tasting her, and her head fell back as she arched into him.

Lifting a hand to her breast he cupped her and brushed his thumb across the peak. A soft moan rewarded his caress. Slowly he drew her down onto the cushions, supporting her until she lay against the bright silks. The heat of her blazed along his side.

He pressed his mouth to her temple, scattered kisses across her forehead, her cheeks. She smiled up at him. Holding her gaze, his fingers rested on the top button of her dress. She nodded, and slowly he unfastened the row of buttons, the backs of his fingers lightly brushing against her breasts as he worked down to her waist. Her eyes widened, but she made no move to stop him. The cotton dress opened, sliding back from the silk of her chemise, leaving only the thin fabric molding to her curves.

“Lily,” he murmured, folding back her dress to expose the skin of her throat and shoulders. He lightly traced her collarbone, felt her pulse leap beneath his touch, then dipped his head, tongue following the curve of her neck, tasting her clean, faintly salty skin. Her body intoxicated him—he wanted to savor her, inch by inch, touch her as he had dreamed of so often during these last weeks.

Gently, he dipped lower, breathing against the skin of her chest, licking softly. His lips met the edge of her chemise, coasted along the smooth fabric, up the curve of her breast. She drew in a deep breath, her heated, silk-covered skin rising to his lips. He bent his head, placed his open mouth over her nipple.

Slowly drawing his tongue across the taut peak he let the moistness penetrate the silk. Soon the thin layer of fabric was all but transparent, wet and clinging. His warm tongue caressed her, making her gasp and sink her fingers into his shoulders.

He moved his hand to her other breast and lavished the same attentions upon it, fingers alternately plucking and stroking. Hands and tongue slowed, teased, then without warning he sucked fiercely at her nipple and tightened his fingers about the nub of her other breast. She shivered beneath him, sighing in pleasure. Her hands moved to grip his head, fingers threading through his hair.

At last he levered himself up and returned to the warm richness of her mouth. Tongues darted and tangled, melded together. Her arms encircled him, coaxed him against her. He complied, letting her pull him down until he lay firmly against her, pressing her into the cushions. Every inch of him was aware of her beneath him. He slid one leg between her thighs, pushing lightly upward until he touched the heat of her. She was still for one startled moment, then her body seemed to take over, rocking slowly back and forth against him.

Urgently, he ravished her mouth, his erection pressed against her hip, fanning the flames higher. He knew he needed to pull back. They were already going further than he had intended—almost further than he could bear.

Somehow she had tugged his shirt free of his trousers, her hands now stroking his back, palms skimming his taut muscles. James moaned against her lips. It was one thing to caress her, to feel her responses, to explore her rising sensations together. But he would not be able to control himself if she insisted on turning the tables this way.

“James,” she whispered.

He lifted his head to look at her, her lips moist from his kisses, her eyes darkened with emotion and desire. Gods, but she was lovely.

Gathering his strength, he began to roll off her, but she tightened her arms around him.

“No,” she breathed, staring dreamily at him, a half-smile on her lips. “Show me more.”

He gazed down at her, measuring her words.

“Please.”

He considered her a moment more, then relaxed, watching her smile deepen as he curved his hand over her shoulder and brushed his thumb over her collarbone. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck, nipped lightly, hands smoothing her curves, gliding over the silk. It was the work of moments to unfasten her chemise.

He pushed it back to her shoulders, baring her soft skin. Raising up on his elbow, he gazed down at her full breasts with their dark pink aureoles, the nipples puckered in arousal.

“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

She studied him, no trace of apprehension in her look. Concealing the speeding of his heart, the love and desire that swept through him, he bent and blew softly on the peak of her breast. She let out a soft moan, fingers tightening on his shoulders as he blew again, openmouthed, letting her feel the heat of his breath, his desire, then curled his tongue beneath her nipple, stroking the sensitive flesh.

Now he gave his hands free rein. They roamed across her legs, down, dipped below her petticoats and drew them up, slowly exposing her to his touch. His fingers curved around her smooth calf, drew tiny circles behind her knee, echoed by the circling of his tongue on her breast. His hand moved higher, pushing the spill of white cotton and silk up her thighs. He drew his palm from her knee along her inner thigh and her leg fell open, responding to his caress.

Her hands moved restlessly, slipped around to caress his back, sweetly distracting. She had unbuttoned his shirt and was tugging at the fabric bunched beneath his coat.

“I want to see you,” she said.

He paused. This was not in his plans, but the impatient entreaty in her eyes swayed him. Raising himself up, he shrugged out of his coat. She pulled his shirt down, then stopped, the white linen crumpled halfway down his arms, falling off his shoulders.

It was his turn to be exposed. Her eyes devoured him.

“You are beautiful, too,” she murmured, then finished stripping off his shirt. She placed her hands flat against his chest.

The heat of her touch made him breathe in sharply. He started to dip his head, to kiss her again, but she pushed him back.

“Let me just…look at you,” she said.

Heart pounding, he did. First her gaze then her hands swept over his broad chest, following the hard planes of his muscles, teasing the light dusting of hair, pulling gently. Then she set her fingers to his nipples and his whole body tensed as she caressed.