“I might be able to come up with an idea or two.” Luke pulled her into the circle of his arms and lowered his head, his mouth finding hers with gentle urgency, his hands spanning her waist.
Perhaps this truly is a brilliant idea
, she thought, luxuriating in the feel of him against her, and the slow, heated possession of his kiss. It
was
different, not quite so rushed, so secretive, so forbidden. . . .
“Shall we undress?” Luke murmured against her lips. “We can discuss the remainder of our evening more comfortably.”
She’d been bereft, as she always was, when Trevor had departed with Marta and his rambunctious cousins for the countryside, but she trusted and loved her sister in law, and Colin’s family deserved to be part of his son’s life. Normally she endured the quiet house and the emptiness his absence left in her life, even if it was for a short while, and she wondered now if she should feel guilty for her inner glow of happiness that developed from this time with Luke.
No, she decided a moment later, because her life was important too, and though she would die for her son and put him before her own needs without hesitation, she didn’t love him less for loving someone else.
Love. Though it was probably not the best lesson in self preservation or a prudent course, she was afraid it was all too true. Her feelings went far beyond infatu ation and she’d known it all along, if she cared to be honest with herself. Why had she never been tempted by anyone else? His physical attractiveness aside, in Luke she sensed a kindred soul . . . a man she liked for what he was, not just a lover, but someone who could also be a friend, a partner, a lifelong companion . . .
Not that acknowledging she was in love with the un attainable Lord Altea was reasonable or prudent, but in his presence she’d proved to be neither of those and she’d probably known a year ago it had happened or she never would have gone back into his arms in the first place. So, to put the evening in perspective, she mused as Luke turned her by the shoulders and began to unfasten her gown, they deserved this time together.
She needed it, and she had an intuitive sense so did he.
A second chance at love was surely a rare gift, and if he didn’t return her affection, he still had gone out of his way to make a special time for them together. It filled her with a quiet joy.
Together.
His mouth grazed her nape as his fingers were busy with slipping buttons loose one by one, and then warm palms slid over her bared shoulders. “You enchant me.”
Madeline leaned her head back against his chest, taking in a long, slow breath. Warmth spread through her limbs as his lips tickled her collarbone. The scent of his hair was woodsy and masculine where it brushed her cheek. “Are you implying I cast a wicked spell on you, my lord?”
He laughed in a low, intoxicating exhale across her throat. “
Something
has happened to my good sense.”
To both of our good sense
, she thought hazily, resting her head against his shoulder, delicious sensation holding her prisoner. Her nipples peaked both from what he was doing at the moment and what she knew was to come, and a soft sound echoed in the room as he slid her dress downward. The whisper of the silk across her sensitive skin wrung a second telling sigh as it pooled around her feet.
“You’re exquisitely distracting.” His hands slipped up to cup her breasts through the thin lace of her chemise. “Ask my steward. I paid very little attention to his report on the estate today. Instead I was thinking about this.” His thumb made a slow, tantalizing circle around her nipple. “When he asked me the same question three times in a row, I rescheduled the appointment with my apologies.”
“I don’t know if I am distracting, but I am certainly distracted.” His touch elicited tiny pulses of pleasure. “You are far too practiced at what you are doing at the moment, but I can’t summon sufficient outrage.”
“Because of my undeniable charm?” His thumb moved again in a sensuous curving motion, as teasing as his voice.
“That must be it,” she murmured, pliant against him.
When he lifted her onto the bed, she closed her eyes, the moment overwhelming because she knew she
loved
him. This time, when he’d divested himself of his clothing and stripped away her shift and they lay skin to skin, their mouths softly touching, hands exploring, the room silent except for the chorus of insects in the garden and the occasional cry of a night bird, she could imagine not just the pleasure, but . . . so much more.
How dangerous. She shouldn’t.
“The earrings suit you,” he told her, his smile sinful, “Especially now, when they are your only adornment, besides your incomparable beauty.”
“That’s somewhat flowery for you, my lord.” She reached between them and stroked the velvet-smooth length of his arousal. “Especially when I can tell you are interested in an activity other than conversation.”
“Astute and beautiful.” He licked her lower lip. “What a delightful combination.”
Luke touched and aroused her with skillful ease, and when he lowered himself between her thighs, it was his tongue, not his cock, that teased her to the trembling edge of release. Her climax was swift and vivid and vocal enough that she was glad the inn was nearly deserted. Dropping a light kiss on her thigh and smiling, Luke rose and smoothly joined their bodies in a slow, measured thrust of sex into sex, male into female.
If only joining our lives could be as easy
, she thought through her sensual haze, adjusting her pelvis instinctively to accept the deepest penetration of his erotic movements, her hands on his tense shoulders.
At this moment, when they were so intimately one, it was too easy to be caught up in the glorious pleasure, the strong feel of him over and inside her, the rhythmic communion of their bodies. . . .
The white-hot pinnacle came again, and this time he made an inarticulate sound from deep in his chest and dropped his head, his eyes tightly shut as he stiffened, the pulse of his ejaculation hot and forceful. Madeline clung to him, the hot, liquid rush of his release in conjunction with the wash of scorching ecstasy. . . .
And inside her. Deep inside, as close as two human beings could be, with his hips hard against her open thighs and her hands at the small of his back.
He hadn’t withdrawn, and she could tell the moment he realized it, for he went very still, his breathing arrested for a moment before he released it in a rush of . . . what? Frustration, fear, or anger at himself?
Don’t
, she pleaded silently.
Don’t ruin this beautiful moment with an apology
. An unplanned pregnancy would be a life-altering event—she knew this and he had been careful so far—but what had just happened would be utterly spoiled if he regretted it with such swift immediacy.
“Open your eyes,” he said softly.
Slowly her lashes lifted and she found him staring down at her, his weight lightly braced on his elbows, their bodies still intimately joined, his tousled hair brushing the clean line of his jaw.
To her surprise, he asked in the same low tone, “What are you feeling right now? Tell me.”
That I love you. That I’d want your child, if you just gave me one.
No, neither of those would do. It was what she wanted to say, but was too afraid it was not what he wanted to hear.
“Life takes us along a winding path,” Madeline whispered, smoothing her fingertips along one of his downy brows, a smile hovering on her mouth. “We cannot control everything, try as we might. As trite as it may sound, what will be will be.”
His silver eyes were unreadable, but at least they weren’t filled with regret. “
You
have an unfortunate effect on my self-control.”
Not exactly a flowery declaration of love, but it was a concession. She heard it in his voice. Madeline murmured, “I think it is obvious you affect my judgment also.”
“I’m trying to be careful with you.”
What did that mean? Careful in that he didn’t want to impregnate her, or was there caution for another reason? “I am not a delicate flower, my lord.”
He grinned then, looking younger and lighter. “No, indeed. You are very much a passionate, independent woman, Lady Brewer. I simply meant I’m trying to not make this complicated, but I fear it is happening anyway.”
“My very point.” She smiled, loving him more for his concern for her, for what had to be a difficult admission from a man who had wealth and power and was used to getting what he wanted and walking away from what he didn’t.
His gaze was searching and intent. “The damage is done, you are saying. If there is a child, we will deal with that situation as it happens?”
Careful to seem unruffled by the possibility, she said, “A woman does not conceive every time. It took Colin and me nearly half a year before I was pregnant with Trevor.”
“Very well. I will concur it would ruin the tenor of the evening to worry about it now.” With a muffled laugh, he withdrew and rolled to his back. “Anticipation is apparently an aphrodisiac. That was over quickly. Should I be embarrassed?”
“In my opinion, there is something to be said for all due speed in some cases.” Madeline opted for the same light tone, doing her best to keep the tumult of her feelings under control, but not quite able to summon fashionable detachment, not after making love with such fevered enjoyment.
“In some cases, the choice is taken from you,” he said in wry amusement. “I shall have to assuage the blow to my manly pride on such a quick performance. Any objections to long and slow and . . . wicked?”
“I am sure with you any pace will be an unforgettable experience.”
Something flickered in his eyes that told her she’d said the words too softly and with too much sincerity. His reaction didn’t escape her, and quickly she said with teasing inflection, “Though you haven’t impressed me too much with your wickedness yet, Altea.”
“Haven’t I?” The corner of his mouth lifted lazily. Arms folded behind his head, he lounged in unselfconscious nudity, the light defining the ridges of hard muscle on his torso and the bulge of his biceps. His softened cock nestled between powerful thighs, and she couldn’t help but compare him to what she envisioned of Spartan warriors: smooth, sleek, all dangerous male. “I’ll have to rectify that oversight.”
“I look forward to it.” There, she’d regained some of her feigned insouciance. Madeline stretched, gratified when his gaze went immediately to her uplifted bare breasts and then drifted lower, to the juncture of her thighs.
“I doubt it will take long,” he murmured, reaching out to touch the damp triangle of her pubic hair. “You could tempt an angel from heaven, and I think we both know I am not an angel. And you are so conveniently close....”
This position, Luke thought as primal, delirious pleasure saturated his senses, was intensely satisfying physically, but he found he missed watching the flush rise under skin and the way her eyelashes fluttered just before she surrendered to orgasmic release, and from behind he also didn’t experience the telltale frantic bite of her nails on his shoulders. On his knees, he grasped Madeline’s hips, drove even more insistently into her contracting passage, and lost the battle to withhold his own climax when he heard her breathless scream.
What the hell am I doing?
He wondered in the cha otic aftermath as his heart finally stopped trying to beat out of his chest. They were both covered in perspira tion, twined together, his cheek resting on the silk of her hair.
Fucking her into a state of exhaustion isn’t going to solve anything.
Almost the moment the thought intruded, he men tally corrected himself. The crude euphemism for what he experienced when he touched Madeline didn’t apply. He made love to her. Unfortunately, he knew the differ ence between casual sexual congress with a woman and something deeper.
Hence the problem, dammit.
Earlier she’d looked at him. . . . and, well, he recog nized that soft light in her eyes. It was indelibly etched in his psyche, as if without speaking she had given him a gift he couldn’t return or forget. There was a very good reason he’d avoided her for the past year, and now that he certainly wasn’t holding on to his resolve to keep himself as distant as possible, he needed to deal with the possible consequences of his actions.
He could easily have gotten her with child. After that first fiery joining, he had yielded to both the temptation of it and the knowledge that he’d already been unforgiv ably reckless and made love to her without reservation or restraint. Had the impulse been entirely unconscious and prompted by exquisite pleasure, or had he gambled on fate deciding the future for him?
Tomorrow
, he promised himself, too content, too aware of her soft, tempting body gathered against his, cognizant that happiness could be a fleeting emotion. In the morning he’d address his disquiet, but for now . . .
“Lord Fitch sent me something.”
The small declaration jarred into the moment. Luke raised his head and peered at Madeline’s averted face, his reaction visceral. “What?”