A Wallflower Christmas (17 page)

His lashes half lowered at her touch. “It wasn't a sacrifice. It was salvation. My father sees it as a weakness, of course. But I told him it doesn't make me less of a man to love someone this way. It makes me more of one. And you're under no obligation, you know. I don't want you to—”

“Rafe,” she said unsteadily, “obligation is no part of what I feel for you.”

His expression caused her insides to turn molten. Picking up one of her hands, he removed her glove in a leisurely manner, pulling gently at the fingertips to loosen them. After peeling off the white satin, he kissed the backs of her fingers and laid her palm against his warm, smooth-shaven cheek. “Hannah, I love you almost more than I can bear. Whether you want me or not, I'm yours. And I'm not at all certain what will happen to me if I have to spend the rest of my life without you. Please marry me so I can stop trying to be happy and finally just
be
. I know this has happened very fast, but—”

“Some things can't be measured by time,” Hannah said with a tremulous smile.

Rafe went still and gave her a questioning glance.

“One of the housemaids found a half-burned love letter in the hearth in your room,” Hannah explained, “and she brought it to Natalie, who showed it to me. Natalie assumed it was for her.”

Even in the darkness, she saw Rafe's color heighten. “Well, hell,” he said in a rueful tone. Bringing her close, he held her and whispered against her ear. “It was for you. Every word was about you. You must have known when you read it.”

“I wanted it to be about me,” Hannah said shyly. “And”—her own face flamed—“those things you wrote—I want all of that, too.”

He gave a soft laugh and drew back to look at her. “Then give me your answer.” He crushed a brief, impassioned kiss against her lips. “Say it, or I'll have to keep kissing you until you surrender.”

“Yes,” she said, breathless with joy. “Yes, I'll marry you. Because I love you, too, Rafe, I love—”

He seized her mouth with his and kissed her hungrily, his hands coming up to her coiffure and disheveling it. She didn't care in the least. His mouth was so hot, delicious, consuming her with light sensual caresses, then ravaging deep and hard. She responded eagerly, shivering in his arms as her body tried to accommodate the surfeit of pleasure, too much, too fast.

Rafe dragged his parted lips slowly down her throat, exciting nerve endings, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His mouth went down to her chest, and within the confinement of her bodice, she felt the tips of her breasts turn hard and sensitive. “Hannah,” he whispered, spreading feverish kisses across her skin, “I've never wanted anyone this much before. You're so beautiful in every way…and everything I find out about you makes me love you more…” He lifted his head and gave it a rough shake as if to recall himself to where he was. A self-mocking grin came to his lips. “My God. We'd better make this a short betrothal. Here, give me your hand—no, the other.” He searched one of the coat pockets and unearthed a shining circlet. It was a garnet set in silver. “This is why I went to the village today,” he said, slipping the ring onto her fourth finger. “I'll buy you a diamond in London, but we had to start out with something.”

“It's perfect,” Hannah said, looking down at it with shining eyes. “A garnet means enduring love. Did you know that?”

He shook his head, staring at her as if she were a miracle.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hannah impulsively kissed him. Rafe angled his head over hers, possessing her lips with soft erotic demand. She ran her hands over the powerful lines of his body in a timid but ardent exploration, until she felt him shiver.

Gasping, he held her back from him. “Hannah…sweetheart, I'm…I've reached my limits. We have to stop.”

“I don't want to stop.”

“I know, love. But I have to escort you back inside before everyone notices that we're missing.”

Everything in her rebelled at the thought of returning to the large, crowded ballroom. The talking, dancing, the long formal supper…it would be torture, when all she wanted was to be with him. Daringly, Hannah reached out to toy with the buttons of his waistcoat. “Take me to the bachelor's house. I'm sure it's empty. Everyone is at the manor.”

He gave her a sardonic glance. “If I did that, sweetheart, there is no way you would get out of there with your innocence intact.”

“I want you to compromise me,” she told him.

“You do? Why, love?”

“Because I want to be yours in every way.”

“You already are,” he murmured.

“Not that way. Not yet. And even if you don't compromise me, I'm going to tell everyone that you did. So you may as well do it in actuality.”

Rafe laughed at her threat. “In America,” he told her, “we would say you're trying to seal the deal.” Gently he framed her face in his hands, and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “But you don't have to, sweetheart.
There's nothing on earth that will keep me from marrying you. You can trust me.”

“I do trust you. But…”

His brows lifted. “But?”

The skin beneath his fingers warmed a few degrees. “I want you. I want to be close to you. As…as you wrote in the letter.”

He gave her one of those slow smiles that sent hot and cold chills down her spine. “In that case…maybe I'll compromise you just a little.”

 

Pulling Hannah up from the bench, Rafe took her with him to the bachelor's house. He argued with himself every step of the way, knowing the right thing to do was to take her back to the manor without delay. And yet the desire to be alone with her, to hold her in privacy, was simply too powerful and all-encompassing to resist.

They went inside the bachelor's house, with its dark, stately furniture and paneled walls and luxurious rugs. Coals glowed in the bedroom hearth, spreading a pool of yellow and orange across the floor.

Rafe lit a bedside lamp and turned it low, and turned to look at Hannah. She had shed his coat and was reaching back to unfasten her ballgown. He saw her expression, how she was trying to appear nonchalant as if going to bed with a man were a normal occurrence for her. And he was filled with amusement and tenderness, and the most unholy ache of lust he'd ever experienced.

He went to her and reached around her, closing his hands over hers. “You don't have to do this,” he said. “I'll wait for you. I'll wait as long as I have to.”

Hannah tugged her hands free and slipped them behind his neck. “I can't think of a thing I'd rather be doing,” she told him.

He bent to kiss her compulsively, pausing only to murmur, “Oh, love, neither can I.”

Slowly he removed layers of silk and linen, and unhooked her corset, and rolled the stockings from her legs. When every last garment was gone, and she was stretched blushing on the bed before him, he let his gaze wander along her slender body, and he let out a shaking sigh. She was so beautiful, so innocent and trusting. He touched her breast, molding the softness with fingers that held a slight tremor.

Her gaze lifted to his face. “Are you nervous?” she asked with a touch of surprise.

Rafe nodded, brushing the pad of his thumb over a pink nipple and watching it tighten. “It's never been an act of love for me before.”

“Does that make it different?”

A wry smile curved his lips as he considered that. “I'm not certain. But there's one way to find out.”

He undressed himself and lay beside her, gathering her carefully in his arms. Despite the desire raging through his body, he pressed her against him with controlled gentleness, letting her feel him. He slid one hand over her bottom, rubbing in a warm circle.

Her breath caught as she felt the length of him against her. A small hand came to the surface of his chest and explored delicately. “Rafe…how should I touch you?”

He smiled and kissed her throat, savoring the softness and female fragrance of her. “Anywhere, love.
Any way you like.” He held still as she played with the light pelt of hair on his chest.

Staring into his eyes, she let her palm drift to the muscles of his abdomen, stroking until they tightened reflexively. She fumbled a little as she grasped his aroused flesh, the hard satiny length alive and pulsing with masculine need. She gave him a few hesitant caresses. His response was so acute that he gasped at the sharply climbing sensation. “Hannah,” he managed to say, reaching down to pull her hand away. “Change of plan. Next time”—he paused, struggling for self-control—“you can explore to your heart's content, but for now, let me make love to you.”

“Did I do something wrong? Did you not like the way I—”

“I liked it too much. If I liked it any more, this would all be over in less than a minute.” He rose above her and pressed kisses over her body, lingering at her breasts to tug and tease and softly bite. He delighted in the shocks of response he felt in her, the deepening color of arousal, the instinctive way she moved toward him to follow the source of pleasure.

Nudging her thighs open, he rested his hand between them, fitting his palm over the fleecy triangle. And he held her gently until she writhed and moaned, needing more. Sliding downward, Rafe kissed her stomach, letting his tongue trace delicate circles around her navel. He had never been so aroused, so completely absorbed in someone else's pleasure. The intimacy was nearly unbearable. His breathing was quick and frayed as he found the entrance of her body and teased around it with his fingertip.

“Hannah, darling,” he whispered, “relax for me.” He eased his finger inside the lush, clinging heat. The feel of her was so exquisite, he let out a groan. “I have to kiss you here. I have to taste you. No, don't be afraid…just let me…oh, Hannah, sweet love…” He dragged his mouth straight through the curls, and searched hungrily until he found the blunt silken peak. His senses were engulfed in radiant pleasure, all his muscles taut with lust. The taste of her, salt and female, was insanely arousing. He drew his tongue over her, flicked and circled, glorying in her helpless cries. He slid his finger deeper, and again, teaching her the rhythm.

She reached down with a low cry, her hands gripping his head. With tender skill he urged her into climax, luxuriating in the soft, pulsing warmth of her body. Long after her release had faded, he stayed with her, drawing his tongue through the rosy heat, easing her into a dreamy afterglow.

“Rafe,” she said thickly, pulling him upward.

Smiling, he levered his body over hers, staring down into her dazed green eyes.

“More,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his back, holding him to her. “I want more of you.”

Murmuring her name, Rafe lowered his body into the cradle of her thighs. A rush of primitive satisfaction went through him as he felt the enticing softness parting for him. He pushed into the resisting flesh, so hot, so wet, and the deeper he went, the more tightly she closed around him. He thrust deep and held, trying not to hurt her. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, a
pleasure beyond imagining. He took her head in his hands and kissed her mouth, while his senses swam in rapture. “I'm sorry, love,” he said in a guttural voice. “So sorry to hurt you.”

Hannah smiled and drew him down to her. “As a foreigner goes to a new country…” she whispered against his ear.

He let out a shaken laugh. “God. You'll never let me forget that letter, will you?”

“I never even read the whole thing,” she said. “Parts of it were burned. And now I'll never know everything you said.”

“The passages you missed were probably about this,” he murmured, pushing gently inside her. They both caught their breath and held still, absorbing the feel of it. Rafe pressed a smile against her cheek. “I wrote quite a lot about this.”

“Tell me what you wrote.”

He whispered into her ear, love words and intimate praise, and all the longing he'd felt. And with each word he felt something opening inside him, a sense of freedom and power and perishing tenderness. She moved with him, welcoming him deeper, and the ecstasy of being joined with her roared through him, driving him to a piercing, brilliantly transcending release.

Indeed…love made it different.

 

Rafe held her for a long time afterward, his hand stroking gently over her back and hip. He couldn't seem to stop touching her. Hannah snuggled in the crook of his
arm, her body feeling heavy and sated. “Is this real?” she whispered. “It feels like a dream.”

Amusement rumbled in his chest. “It will seem real enough tomorrow morning when I take you back to the manor a fallen woman. If I hadn't already told Westcliff of my intentions to marry you, I daresay he'd greet me with a horsewhip.”

“You aren't taking me back tonight?” she asked in pleased surprise.

“No. For one thing, I've ruined your coiffure. Second, I don't have the energy to leave this bed. Third…there's a distinct possibility that I'm not finished with you yet.”

“Those are all very good reasons.” She sat up and pulled the remaining pearl pins from her hair, and leaned over Rafe to deposit them on the bedside table. Catching her ribs in his hands, he held her over him and kissed her breasts as they were displayed before him. “Rafe,” she protested.

Pausing, he looked up into her blushing face, and he grinned. “Modest?” he asked softly, and tucked her into the crook of his arm again. His lips pressed against her forehead. “Well. Being married to me will cure you of that soon enough.”

Hannah leaned her face against his chest, and he felt the curve of her smile.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Our first night together. And our first morning will be Christmas.”

Rafe patted her naked hip. “And I've already unwrapped my present.”

“You're rather easy to shop for,” she said, making him laugh.