Julia London (92 page)

She wept harder.

A moment later, Alex came inside, his hand landing on the small of her back and guiding her to sit on one of the bales. As she cried, he broke apart a couple of other bales and spread the hay around to cover the mud. She watched him shed his greatcoat and shake the rain from it, then spread it across the hay he had scattered. He calmly surveyed his work before turning to Lauren. One corner of his mouth snaked upward in a lopsided grin. “Oh, my darling angel, your morning has not gotten off to a very good start, has it?”

Another surge of tears spilled; she buried her face in her hands. He straddled the bale on which she sat and cradled her head against his shoulder. “There now, it cannot be as bad as all that,” he murmured soothingly. “What should make those glorious blue eyes produce such an abundance of tears? I wonder, did old Lucy step on your toe?”

How absurd! Miserable, she shook her head and felt the quiet chuckle deep in his chest. “No? Did your Uncle Ethan, then?”

It was so ridiculous, a smile tugged at the corner of her lip. “No,” she muttered, sniffing.

“Hmm. Perhaps Mr. Goldthwaite presented you with a bunch of wilting daisies and proclaimed his undying admiration?”

Lauren sniffed loudly. “Hardly. He is quite impatient with me these days,” she moaned.

“Then what, I wonder, should make my angel sob so?” he murmured thoughtfully against the top of her head.

“Everything,”
she cried, and pitifully clutched his lapel.

Alex slipped a finger under her chin and tilted it upward to carefully examine her face.
“Everything?”
he asked, and slowly bent to kiss the path of tears from one cheek. “That is quite a heavy burden,” he murmured, and kissed the other cheek. “Much too heavy a burden for one angel.” He gently kissed one eye. “Give me your burden, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the other eye. “I would gladly bear your troubles as my own.” He kissed the bridge of her nose.

His soothing words raced through her like fire. She closed her eyes, savoring each one as every good intention flew from her mind. She very much needed his comfort at the moment, desperately so. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the rain coming down in torrents. Not the horses neighing softly beneath the trees. Not Magnus, not Paul, not any responsibility, nor any claim to dignity. She needed him.

She felt his lips on her forehead, then her temple. “Let me bear it all, love—your fatigue at the end of the day, your hurt when the world looks ill at Leonard. Let me bear your triumphs, your defeats, your uncertainties, your fears, your happiness,” he uttered softly.

Mesmerized, she opened her eyes and unconsciously lifted her hand to touch his face. He leaned into it, kissing her palm.

“I will bear your health, your humor, your penchant for notable quotations. I will bear your family, your animals, and your little enterprises. I will bear you in my heart always, and your children. I will bear everything—you will never worry, never hurt, never need anything. Just come with me. Come be with me, Lauren.” His voice had grown rough; his green eyes glimmered with the depth of his emotion. Her heart seemed to levitate in her chest, hovering on the brink of a feeling so deep she was vaguely afraid she might fall into it and drown.

He smiled. It wrapped around her heart and squeezed life
into it. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips anxiously crushed hers, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, claiming her. She was conscious of her fingers raking through his hair, grasping at any and every fiber of him. The bonnet toppled from her head, the high neck of her jacket flicked open. He deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue, inviting her into his very core.

She was on fire.

They tumbled onto his greatcoat. His hands eagerly swept her frame, across her middle, down her legs, finding the buttons on her blouse. The rain drummed harder against the earth just beyond them, matching the tempo of her beating heart. She sought the warmth of his body, thrusting her hands deep inside his waistcoat, feeling his spine, his rib-cage, and the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders. He freed her breast and eagerly brought the rigid peak fully into his mouth. Instinctively, she lifted to him, openly indulging in the sweet, burning sensation against her skin and building in the pit of her stomach.

With his mouth and hands, he exalted in her, and Lauren received his caress with pure elation. He paused, tearing off his coat and waistcoat, ripping the neckcloth away. She frantically clawed at the pearl buttons on his shirt as his hand skimmed below her skirts, drifting up her leg. With his free hand, he easily unfastened her skirt.

“You belong with me,” he whispered as he pulled the soiled skirt from her waist and tossed it onto the remaining bale of hay. “You know you do.” He slipped a hand beneath her so that he might remove her undergarments. Very slowly, he began to pull the petticoats from her hips. “My God, what an angel,” he breathed, his eyes lovingly feasting on her nude body, and reverently, he bent to kiss the flat plane of her belly. “My wicked little angel.”

Lauren sighed, adrift on the little bed of unbridled sensation. Everything but Alex was forgotten. She
did
belong with him—every inch of her flared with a burning hunger
for his touch. His hardness, straining the fabric of his trousers, pressed against her leg. The soft sensation of his lips against her belly and flick of his tongue in her navel sent spasms of desire spiraling through her.
“Alex,”
she whispered, smiling lazily as he lifted her leg, kissing her calf. His lips traced a warm, wet path up her leg, pausing to kiss the soft crease behind her knee, nibbling the inside of her thigh. One hand fluttered across her breast, kneading gently.

His breath brushed the apex of her thighs, shocking her almost senseless. When his tongue flicked across her mound, it terrified her, almost as much as her own desire. Her breathing grew ragged; she was suddenly gasping for air. He moved between her legs, lifting them over his broad, shoulders, and slowly descended. Spiraling recklessly toward release, she began to writhe beneath him, clutching desperately at his head, moving innately to meet the caress of his tongue. Roughly, his hands clutched her buttocks, holding her to him as he delved deeper, then began to lovingly torment her in the most intimate way imaginable. The pressure building in her was unbearable; she strained to meet him, grabbing the straw around her as she sought to hold on.

His hand slipped into hers, squeezing it tightly as the stroke of his tongue quickened. The experience was staggering. Soaring higher and higher, she suddenly plummeted into a pool of sweet oblivion. Her own, guttural moan rang in her ears as the extraordinary sensation washed over her in wave after wave of stunning delight.

Alex left her for a moment to kick the trousers from his legs. His heart raced madly as he gazed at the beautiful creature stretched before him. It was so different this time, he thought, as his swollen manhood skimmed her leg. So very right. A tender smile creased his lips as he beheld the woman he loved with all his heart. “God, I do love you,” he whispered.

Her dark blue eyes widened, then her lashes fluttered as she cupped his chin.
“Alex,”
she murmured huskily.

He bent to kiss her, the taste of her still on his lips. He found her hand, guided it to the velvet head of his manhood, and wrapped her fingers around the pulsing member. Her touch was exquisite; his tongue thrust into the corners of her mouth in rhythm with her hand, gliding over her teeth and gums. Desperate to prolong this incredible experience, he suddenly grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him as he quickly found the opening to her sheath. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and plumb their depths, to bear witness to the emotions of an angel he had fallen in love with so many months ago.

“God forgive me, but I want you,” she whispered.

It was the most erotic thing she might have said. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself deep within her. Crying out in ecstasy, she wrapped herself around him, and Alex had the sensation of being deeply drawn into her warm depths. He moved slowly, pulling almost completely free, then plunging again, marveling at the passion sparkling in her eyes each time he did. She rose to meet each powerful thrust—her body tightened around him, coaxing him to the brink of fulfillment. But he kept his long strokes deliberately slow, antagonizing himself to the point of insanity.

In a swift, graceful movement, he abruptly rolled to his back without missing his stride, taking her with him. She was on top of him, bracing herself against his chest, kneading his muscles, fingering the hardened nipples. His strokes took on a new urgency, one she seemed to understand completely as she gazed down at him. Her body seemed to flow into his, meeting him in perfect harmony as he bucked beneath her. As the pressure in him began to give way to an eruption of rapture, Lauren suddenly threw back her head in sensual triumph, her hair tumbling to his legs.

He cried her name with his last powerful surge inside her and convulsed into her, giving his life’s blood to her womb.

Panting, Lauren fell on top of him, her hair spilling over his chest and face. He turned slightly; their bodies still joined, he lightly stroked her back as he tried to regain his breath.

“Oh, God, how I
love
you,” she moaned as he brushed her hair from his face, then hers, and tenderly kissed her.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered. She twisted in his arms, propping her chin on his shoulder, gazing up at him with the same adoration he felt through to the very center of his soul. They remained that way, silently gazing at one another, taking in every feature, quietly marveling at the joy they had created. As he memorized her body with his fingertips, Alex could not remember ever feeling so remarkably at peace.

At last, he smiled and kissed her softly. With the back of his hand, he carefully smoothed the curly tendrils of hair from her temple, his gaze languidly roaming her face. “I am a most fortunate man,” he mused, and cupped her full breast. “I must have done something right along the way. I would that I could loll about all day with you naked in my arms and make love to you over and over again.” He kissed the curve of her neck and shoulder, unable to sate his desire to touch her. It was amazing to him that a man of his years and experience could be, quite simply, rocked off his feet. But Lauren was so …
different.
What she lacked in experience she made up for with passion so intense and heartfelt that he was left reeling.
God
, he loved her. He had never known it possible to love so deeply.

“When I think of the moments we have already lost,” he sighed, stroking her hair. “I suppose I shall just have to work doubly hard to make up for them.” Lauren responded by burying her face in the curve of his neck, her fingers gripping his shoulder tightly. He smiled at her modesty, and glanced down at the long line of her body, her legs tangled with his. This, the two of them, was so
right.
“There will be no more lost moments, Lauren,” he said, kissing her shoulder.
“There is nothing that can keep us from one another ever again.”

It was then that he felt the wetness of her tears on his shoulder. His gut twisted, warning him. “Lauren?”

She slowly lifted her head, her eyes glistening. “There can be no us,” she whispered hoarsely.

His stomach moved again. Violently. “What ever do you mean by that?” he asked roughly. “Of course there can be an
us
!” Struck by the absurdity of it, he attempted to laugh. They had just shared an extraordinary demonstration of their love for one another. He was being ridiculously apprehensive.

But Lauren just lay there in his arms, an expression on her face that looked as if she would be sick at any moment. He stared at her, waiting for her to allay his fear,
needing
her to comfort him, to tell him he misunderstood. A tear slipped from her eye and ran down her cheek. “What is the matter with you?” he demanded, quite certain he did not want to know.

“I—I know what you must think, b-but I am engaged to be married,” she stammered in a whisper.

“What?!”
His mind began to reel. She could not—she could
not
mean what she was saying. What the hell did she think had just occurred between them?

“Friday. I marry Magnus on Friday.”

He suddenly shifted, dumping her out of his arms as if she had burned him. It was inconceivable, totally unfathomable. Had he just imagined what had occurred between them? Could she respond to him so … so
completely
then turn around and marry another? Was she
mad
? Was she playing him for a goddam fool?

Unthinking, he sat up and grabbed her arms, jerking her into his chest. “What in the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted. Lauren cringed, closing her eyes. “
Look
at me! You cannot mean it, Lauren! You cannot mean you will
marry
him!” She tried to turn away, but he held her fast,
angrily shaking her. “I don’t know what nonsense is in that head of yours, but what in the hell do you think just happened here?” he bellowed.

“I—” Her eyes flew open and frantically searched his chest. “God help me, but it does not
change
anything. I made a commitment!”

Stunned, he pushed her away. She caught herself on her elbow, one hand slowly rubbing the spot on her arm he had gripped. He gaped at her, racking his brain for even a modicum of understanding. He could find none—damn it all to hell, he could
not
understand.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, he slowly ran his hands over his hair, fighting for control. “What just happened between us was
honest
and
real.
Doesn’t that mean
anything
to you?”

Her head dropped to her chest and her hair fell around her, shielding her face from him. Desperate, he reached for her, but she quickly brought her arms up and covered her breasts. “D-don’t,” she said unsteadily.

“Lauren—”

“
Don’t!
I cannot …
think …
when you touch me,” she rasped helplessly.