Authors: Susannah Merrill
Sarah decided she was losing her sanity. Where was the girl who wept at the drop of a hat? The girl with empathy and understanding for those she loved? The temperamental shrew that plagued Stewart so? Or the passionate woman that only he had discovered? Who was this cold, heartless, mindless shell?
When Stewart found her, she was still staring dry-eyed at the moon. He threw off his coat, draping it on a chair as he rushed to her side. “I got away as soon as I could. You should not be alone. But d’Alava found satisfaction in detaining me.”
“Ibroughtyousomebrandy,”heo ffered kindly. “I thought it might help you.” Studying her profile in the moonlight, he was reminded of another night on board ship when the sight of her bathed in moon glow, her blue eyes shimmering beneath dark lashes, had stirred him profoundly. But something was different this night, despite her breathtaking beauty. Her eyes. They were empty, devoid of expression. “Would you care for some brandy, Sarah?”
She sighed, then blinked, sliding her eyes toward him as if he were hardly worth noticing. “I don’t care.”
Takenabackbyherindi fference,hereached for her arm, shocked to find it as cold as ice. “Sarah, you are freezing, despite this heat. Come, let me warm you.” He pulled her to him, wrapping his long arms around her, hoping to comfort as well as soothe away the chill. But he might have been caressing a marble statue, so still and frigid was her slender body. He looked down on her and saw that the glassy stare had now fixed on his chest. She neither knew nor cared what was happening to her.
Enraged that her pain was so great that she could not even suffer, he snatched her up, forcing a breath from her body, and dropped her unceremoniously on the huge bed. After throwing a blanket over her, he retrieved the small bottle of brandy from his coat pocket and, lifting her head, forced the bottle between her slackened lips. Finally, she was compelled to swallow the burning liquid, feebly coughing as she did.
Satisfied for the moment, Stewart set the bottle aside and quickly removed his clothes, the thought crossing his mind that her anger might rally at his immodesty. But even if she noticed, there was no reaction. With a sigh, he crawled into the bed, pulling the sheet over his nakedness. Sliding his long body next to hers, he propped his head on one hand, using the others to reach beneath the blanket to bring her arm around till she faced him. The smell of the brandy was heavy on her lips and without thinking, he kissed her, taking the taste into his own mouth. But he might have been making love to the bottle itself, so still and cold she lay.
Stewart raised his head in frustration, his attempt to evoke some response, even anger, having failed. She continued to stare at him, not seeing his darkly handsome features nor the pain in his troubled eyes.
As if making the greatest human sacrifice, she finally responded, sighing, “I feel nothing ... I care even less.”
He smoothed her hair, running his thumb along her slender jaw line, gently stroking her ear. “’Tis the shock. It has been too much to bear at once.”
“Where are the tears? Have I gone mad?” Her thin voice was devoid of emotion. “I am as dead as she.”
“No,no!”hewhisperedfiercely,grippingher shoulders, his imploring brown eyes illuminated by the moonlight. “This won’t last. You’ve been under such a great strain that nothing seems real anymore. But we are alone now. You can let go.”
“You’re wrong,” Stewart argued, yanking away the bedclothes and molding himself to her thinly-clad body, still so cold and taut. “There is a passionate woman inside, who feels, who cares, who is grieving. Let me help you, Sarah. Let me comfort you.”
With the greatest care, as if handling a tender babe, Stewart rolled her unresisting form to her stomach. Lifting her thick hair aside, he began gently massaging her rigid neck, shoulders and back. If only she could relax, he believed the trance-like state would end. Then she would be able to deal with her pain. Diligently he worked, his hands skillfully manipulating the tense muscles beneath her thin wrapper, lending her the warmth from his fingers.
Unmoved by his ministrations, Sarah lay in silence, staring at the balcony doorway, seeing nothing. An eternity passed, or so it seemed, and still Stewart worked tirelessly, praying she would give into the brandy and the massage, for he could think of no other balm.
At last, his efforts began to bear fruit. Without warning, Sarah shivered involuntarily as a sudden warmth poured into her. The abrupt feeling of life was disconcerting and without knowing why, she felt an overpowering urge to cleave. In a voice barely audible, she pleaded, “Hold me ... please hold me.”
It was the sign Stewart had been waiting for. Immediately he dropped beside her on the bed and took her into his arms, not unaware of her tender flesh where the wrapper had twisted away. Impatiently she pushed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, whimpering his name in a pathetic, childlike voice. Far from disturbed by her first encounter with Stewart’s naked flesh, she reveled in its warmth and strength that seemed to seep from his body into hers. Nothing mattered except that she was feeling again and would do anything to keep the sensations alive.
Her desperate wriggling caused the wrapper to part and Stewart knew excruciating agony as a tender, swelling breast pressed against his hard chest. Her silky thighs molded themselves to his lean legs, giving rise to his manhood despite his attempts to will against it. In torment over his predicament, he tried to alter his position but Sarah relentlessly clung to him.
Were she any other women, his course would be certain. But Lady Sarah Tremont was not any woman. He had known her too dearly, had come to respect her reasons for chastity, even if they sorely conflicted with his own opinions and desires. That she had suddenly made herself a willing partner for his own lusts forced him to question her obvious, if inexperienced, overtures.
Would making love to her increase her anguish, complicate her suffering? Or would rejection? God, if only he could be certain! Everything about her this night confounded him – her calm control in the face of an unspeakable personal tragedy, her superlative concealment of her knowledge and emotions in d’Alava’s menacing presence, the cold withdrawal and now her passionate pleading. Had she gone mad, as she feared, or would a wrong decision on her part be the sway?
The misgivings persisted even as Sarah found his lips, kissing him wantonly, digging her nails into his broad shoulders and squirming until her supple body was pinned beneath his. And she truly felt his undisguised hardness pressed between them and knew that no matter what trauma had brought her to this point, nor what outcome would transpire, she wanted, needed, to experience the culmination of desire with this man, and no other.
“Take me ... take me, please. Make me feel again.” The whispered supplication ripened into a demand, so emphatic that all Stewart’s uncertainties took flight. She wanted him, as he had always wanted her. But he was determined to be patient and to stop his caresses should she suddenly change her mind. In soothing tones, he murmured of her beauty, his desire and of the act they were about to share, all the while removing her robe, teasing her body with gentle, persistent fingers. He kissed her, reveling in the unrepressed response of her delicate lips and tongue.
As his mouth sought the sweetness of her peaking breasts, Sarah pressed his head closer to her bosom, thrusting her hips toward him in urgent need for release from this exquisite torture he had aroused in her loins. Her will was gone and in its place was burning, aching desire to experience whatever lay in store.
Stewart was overwhelmed, struck by the intensity of emotion he had never sustained until this night. She was splendid in looks, taste, touch, scent, sound. Her barest quiver fanned the flames of desire, but to his surprise, selfless caring was by far the stronger impulse. As much as he wanted her, had always wanted her, he could not put his needs before her own. Tenderness, gentleness, patience had been mere words until this moment. And the realization that he possessed such traits only added to his reverent adoration of the woman beneath him.
His warm, pliant fingers teased and fondled every inch of her body until coming to rest on the soft mound between her legs. Drawing his leg up to separate her limbs, he retreated when he discovered resistance there. Raising his head from the deep hollow at the base of her pulsing neck, he sought the reason for her reluctance. Her hair had fallen into a dark, magnificent cloud around her face and framed her eyes, which, when she opened them, were soft, a luminous navy blue. Immediately her hands rose to cup his lean face, pulling him closer till their lips met in a rapturous kiss that both thrilled and confused him.
Again he pressed for access to hidden places and still she resisted, all the while gasping in breathless wonder at the powerful waves of pleasure overtaking her. If only she knew the course of this heady passion! Where was its crowning? How was this “act,” of which she knew virtually nothing, supposed to be accomplished? Eyes brimming with tears of frustration, Sarah wordlessly damned her prim and sheltered existence, fortified by her own stubborn desire for ignorance in all things sexual. For now, when she wanted to experience everything, she found herself a prisoner of her own purity.
His tender, husky voice broke into her recriminations. “Is it pain that you fear? ‘Twill be small and not what you remember of this night, I promise.”
Hiding her eyes from his intense gaze, she spoke, her words muffled, “Not that ... I would relish the pain. But I-I am without ... I don’t know what ....” Her embarrassed confession, so arduously attempted, melted Stewart’s heart as it cleared his confusion. He had forgotten how unschooled gentlewomen were in the art of love, so long had it been since he had come across a true innocent.
Lifting her arm from across her face, he delicately kissed each eyelid, savoring the taste of her salty tears. As his hand caressed the firm yet supple swell of her buttocks, he whispered reassuringly, “Take ease, my darling. Open yourself to me and your body will show you the way ....”
Tentatively at first, her knees came apart as his lips traced searing patterns on her ear and the slim column of her throat. Very gently his hand again approached the untried territory between her thighs, causing her to flinch, more from surprise than from fear. But he would not be swayed, methodically stroking the moist flesh, continuing to nibble and whisper in her ear of his pleasure and her charms.
Waveuponwaveofhotdesirewashedover her and Sarah felt suspended, apart from her own body, yet pulsing and breathless with longing. His masterful fingers played her like a fine, precious instrument. Unconsciously she spread herself beneath him, pushing and straining as her mouth and tongue sought the strong possession of his.
And then he withdrew, raising himself above her in naked splendor, a dark rippling panther so close yet much too far. In agonized disappointment, she moaned, wrapping her pale arms around his neck in silent pleading for his return. Stewart bent his head to kiss her again and in so doing, slowly lowered his body until his throbbing manhood tested the warm, wet heat of her portal. Dark sea blue eyes rose in confused panic, but earthy brown eyes were strangely reassuring despite their burning intensity.
Never had Stewart known such a desperate craving to find release for his too-long, pent-up urgings. But to move hastily would surely prove a grave gesture, for Sarah was so tense that he would undoubtedly inflict immeasurable pain. His arms trembled under his weight but his manner was calming, subtly moving his hard, warm body against the soft curves beneath him.
Sarah felt herself responding to his movements,
chest taunted
relishing the way his her aching nipples in
feverish delight. Breathlessly she waited for his thrust which would surely end the incredible pleasure that, thanks to his skillful and considerate lovemaking, had nearly all been hers, or so she believed. But still he took his leisure, kissing her with controlled passion, discovering every inch of her mouth with his relentless tongue until his arm had gone around her and his heavy body was pressing hers into the soft mattress. She thrilled to the touch of his hand as he traced a molten path down the length of her trembling flesh, coming to rest on the downy softness of her inner thigh. With gentle pressure, he pushed her limb further outward and the other followed willingly.
Then, and only then, did Stewart press his lean hips closer. Sarah’s legs tightened involuntarily at this encroachment, but surprisingly, there was no pain, only an ardent fullness that nearly took her breath away. Regaining her eagerness, Sarah sighed and pulled Stewart’s head closer, nuzzling her nose in the thick waves of dark hair about his ear.
Incapable of prolonging this sweet agony, Stewart rocked gently back and forth, moving imperceptibly deeper with each thrust of his burning shaft. A more experienced woman would have known that entry had only just begun. But Sarah, lulled by Stewart’s rhythmic page, thought her initiation complete and satisfying.
But her feeling of drifting contentment ended abruptly when Stewart’s gentle probing turned helplessly more demanding. Surprised and frightened by this change, his ragged breathing burning her ear, Sarah instinctively sought to resist him. But Stewart had gone too far to turn back now, pressing himself deeper and deeper into her gentle flesh. The discomfort she felt alarmed her and made her less open to his thrusts, which now seemed capable of ripping her body asunder.
She cried out, whimpering, pleading, begging him to stop his conquest, but either he did not hear or no longer cared for he drove himself relentlessly between her quivering thighs. Sarah squirmed and twisted, pummeling his broad shoulder with her fists but her efforts were totally wasted on this strong animal who imprisoned her so completely.
Betrayed and helpless, Sarah rolled her head from side to side, the tears flooding her flushed face. Meekly she sobbed, only remotely aware that the rending pain had subsided and in its place was a bittersweet ache as Stewart’s rhythmic invasion continued. And then, a very strange sensation crept over her, more mysterious because she had expected only to endure. It was as if her body were rekindled; she tingled with a feeling of indescribable anticipation for something that defied explanation. In burning response, her hips rose of their own accord to meet Stewart’s plunging stabs. The pain no longer mattered and his labored sounds were suddenly music to her ears.