Surrender The Night (38 page)

She felt him hardening in her mouth and knew what that portended. Reluctantly, she gave him a last kiss and rested her cheek against his flat belly.

He panted for several moments, then sighed. “Your turn, my love.” He tried to push her flat, but she straddled him and twitched her voluminous skirts aside.

“My turn? Then this is what I want, before it’s too late.” While he stared in shock, his eyes glazed with passion, she cupped him in her fingers, lifted slightly, and sat on the hungry tip of him. “Waste not, want not,” she teased huskily.

When he didn’t smile, her eyes dropped to what held his rapt attention. She looked down. The sight of her moist opening being cleaved so cleanly and so well was too much for her. The leisurely slide she’d intended somehow became a famished lunge. As they watched, the whole throbbing length of him disappeared between her legs. Their eyes closed in unison; they groaned in concert.

Two years was a long time, but Katrina barely noticed the pain. So deeply he inhabited her . . . Though her visitor was large, Katrina welcomed his ingress and wanted only to acquaint him with every hidden passage. She flexed her muscles about him, needing to take him deeper. Her belly was full of him, yet it wasn’t enough. She lifted her hips, then drove down, sighing in delight as he slipped further into her.

She was too intent on her own actions to notice how his hands clutched desperately at the sheets. He gnawed so savagely at his lip that he drew blood. But somehow he stayed the tide and resisted his own urge to play the conquering male. It was right that she take her pleasure upon him.

Her skirts had fallen forward at the frantic activity, shielding their joining from his eyes, but somehow that made their intimate union all the more erotic. “Oh God,” he groaned as she took him deep again until he thought he could feel the tip of her womb.

Katrina flung her head back, moving wantonly now, up and violently down. Her breasts, still cruelly contained in the bodice, felt full to bursting. She clutched at her stays and muttered, “Off.” She pulled weakly at the ruffle, then gave up when another deep insertion distracted her.

Devon smiled up at her tenderly, barely holding his own needs at bay. He cupped her breasts through the material. When she moaned, caught his hands, and tried to force them down her bodice, he acted on instinct. With a savage grunt he caught the bodice and ripped it downward.

Days of work were ruined, but she seemed not to care. As her breasts tumbled forward to blessed freedom she arched herself into the divine touch of his hands. He cupped each flushed globe gently, then ran his fingers around their fullness.

She paused, holding his pulsing urgency prisoner wit
hin
her body, and luxuriated in all the incredible sensations she’d never thought to know again. When he tugged on each breast, she obediently lowered her torso. He took dainty licks at first, but when she gasped and squirmed upon him, he muttered hoarsely against her skin, squeezed her breasts closely together, and feasted. He suckled first one nipple, then the other, and when she was pebble hard, he raked her with his teeth.

The sensual touch shivered throughout her body, lodging deep in her womb where she held him. She felt her pulsing growing, growing, and panting, she sat up and leaned back
ward, the more to take of him.

He knew what she wanted. Propping himself up on one elbow, he rose enough to give her better leverage. She was so tight, so sweet, so warm. He’d wait on her, truly he would. But when she splayed her legs even wider and began to heave up and down, he went so deep his ears began to roar with the passion he could no longer contain.

“Kat, please!” he cried. He bowed against the bed and felt blindly for her own turgid arousal. The single, gentle touch was enough. She screamed. Her head reared back on her shoulders so far that her hair flowed over his thighs.

The clenching release on every oversensitized inch gave him joyful ease. With a triumphant cry he pushed as deep as nature would allow and showered her belly with the seeds of life. He caught her hips in his hands and stayed her writhing, spending himself within her, stamping her. At last, she was his again. His mate.

Her eyes opened wide as she felt that pulsing warmth. She watched his face, shiny with sweat. Exultation filled her with every drop. Never had he been so primitively male, so gorgeous in his arrogance. He’d let her play with him as she willed; this moment was his. She stayed still, submissive upon him, until the potent splashes finally died.

He went limp, pulling her down atop him. She lay inert, listening to his slowing heartbeat, and enjoyed every moment of the happiness she’d earned. Lethargy washed over her. She slept.

Her awakening was slow, blissful, and scandalous. Her clothes were gone, her limbs were arranged to suit his pleasure, and masculine hands were exploring every inch of her. Still half-asleep, she stretched under that skillful touch. A husky laugh made her eyes pop open.

“How appropriately you’re named, my darling Kat. Purr for me louder.” Lips followed hands.

Only then did she hear the sounds she was making. Devon gave her no time for embarrassment, however. Never had he kissed her so, or caressed her so, gently, possessively, seeing to her pleasure rather than his own. This was the Devon she’d always dreamed of: one guided by love rather than lust.

He pushed her legs further apart and bent his head. She gasped and tried to move away, but he muttered, “Be still,” and held her so. “Let me show you how you make me feel.” He did so, wordlessly, in the most intimate way possible.

Tenderness, pride, devotion, protectiveness; all were communicated by his mouth and hands. Tears came to Katrina’s eyes as he virtually worshiped her. And when her pleasure had come and gone under the tender ministration, she pulled him atop her when he would have let her rest.

“Come, we’ve two years to make up for,” she told him, still panting.

“But I don’t want to make you sore—” His protest ended on a groan as she grasped him and put him where she willed.

She smiled against his mouth when his masculine instincts responded to her invitation. The smile faded to a long, delicious sigh as slowly, drawing out every exquisite move
ment, he used his body to heighten her pleasure again. Only then, many long, long moments later, did he take his own.

When she awoke the second time, dawn bathed the man sitting beside the bed in a ruby glow. Devon wore only a scarlet dressing gown and a sensual smile. She couldn’t help it; she blushed under that knowing gaze.

“What a wanton you are,” he teased. When she flinched, his voice went soft. “What a lucky man I am.” He lifted her into his arms.

He wouldn’t let her hide her face against his shoulder. “None of that. This time you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. As my instructors at Oxford would tell you, I learn quickly.” He picked up a glass from beside the bed and held it out to her.

“Drink with me, my love. To the past that brought us together, and the future that will keep us secure.” He drank deeply of the champagne, never taking his eyes from her face.

She sipped, vaguely aware of a tinkle in her glass, but too depressed to care. The night was over; reality came with the dawn. She’d have to dress and sneak home, watching others pretend they didn’t know where she’d been, or what she’d been doing. She had to force herself to listen as he went on.

“I went through two years of misery without you, Katrina, but now I realize that had you stayed with me then, happiness would never have been ours. You would have left me for another, for only in losing you did I know what you meant to me.” Devon put his glass down and picked up her hand to nuzzle it. “Your generosity tonight tore the blinders from my eyes for good and all. I can never be completely worthy of you.  But with God’s help I intend to try.” He cupped her hand to his cheek and smiled at her.

Katrina’s stirring resentment died. Inexperienced she might be, but she knew love when she saw it. It glowed from Devon’s eyes, rang in his voice, and throbbed in his touch. She’d be a fool to reject it, no matter its guise.

She lifted her head proudly. “I, too, have learned, my darling. Nothing is ever simple ’tween us. Least of all my feelings for you, or yours for me, as you told me years ago. I’d stay if I could.
...”

Devon touched her trembling lips with his finger. “Shhh. Shower no more gifts upon me, my dearest. Allow me some pride. I, too, want to be generous with the woman I love.” He lifted her glass to her lips. ‘ ‘Drink deeply, and know the full measure of my devotion.”

Her eyes locked with his, Katrina drank to the last drop. When something cold and hard touched her lips, she looked down into her glass. She clasped Devon’s wrist to pull the glass away. Gingerly she picked up the ring. The sapphire was small but perfect, surrounded by diamonds. It was not as ostentatious as his gifts of old. At a calmer time she might have wondered why.

Instead she flung it back into the glass and set both down with a snap on the bedside table. “I will be your lover, Devon, but not your kept woman. Don’t insult me with gifts again.” She tried to turn an offended shoulder to him, but he caught her arm and pulled her back around.

Her tight mouth dropped open when she saw his expression. Laughter? At such a moment?

Indeed, his voice was rich with mirth. “I can’t blame you, my love, for misreading my intent, as I have unwittingly misled you in the past. But this time you err in the wrong direction. Right is firmly on my side at last.” So saying, he rescued the ring and forced open her clenched hand. “Let me show you where to wear it.” He slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

When hesitant blue eyes flickered from his face, to the ring, then back, he nodded gravely, all mirth gone. “Yes, my love. I beg the honor of your hand in marriage.” He swallowed harshly as those eyes deepened from turquoise to indigo and began to fill with tears.

He hauled her into his arms and muttered into her hair, ‘ ‘Forgive me for my tardiness, my love. But I want you by my side night and day, in church and out, before man and God.” When she still hid against his shoulder, he lifted her chin with one finger. “Most of all I want your love without reservation, as mine is for you. The past is dead, Katrina; walk with me into the future.”

Devon rose and extended his hand.

Katrina stared blindly at that fine hand. Exaltation filled her, but it had a mournful tone. She’d won—two years too late.

Her own hands burrowed into the covers to keep from clutching that hand and all it offered. Her eyes closed on the temptation. Dear God, why do you torment me? No matter how much he loved her, Devon desperately wanted, and needed, heirs. No matter how they longed to put the past behind them, its scars condemned her to a future as his lover instead of as his wife.

Irony weighed heavily in her tone when she answered wearily, “You don’t know what you ask, Devon. Please, don’t speak to me of marriage again.” She threw the covers back and began to rise, but he was on her in a flash.

He pushed her flat on the bed. “If you want to punish me a little, I grant you the right, but please, select another way.”

Unshed tears glittered in her eyes. “How about this? You offer me marriage because that’s your best chance to hold me. You still have reservations about my background; you just can’t help yourself.”

His jaw flexed, then became rock hard. “This time, you do me an injustice. I’m honored at your love, Katrina. I’ll shout my joy at our union from the church steeple at noon, if you’ll let me.”

Each word hammered at Katrina. She’d resigned herself to having only part of him. Now he offered all, unaware that she no longer had power to accept. Oh God, if he only knew that his own past mistakes kept him now from his heart’s desire. Some might see a rough justice in the situation,, but Katrina was too miserable to feel vindicated. But even to make
him
understand, she could not be so vile as to tell him the truth. She felt sobs building in her chest and knew she had to get away.

One answer, however, he owed her. He had changed, yes. But how much?

The words came of their own accord. “Very well, then answer me truly: Do you as gladly embrace the thought of siring your only heirs on me?” When his hands faltered, she sneered. “I thought not. How horrid if my peasant blood should dilute your blue and produce idiot offspring.” She tried to rise, but he held her shoulders down, his grip strong and certain again.

“The lessons of a lifetime take long to overcome, Katrina.
You
tell
me
true; Do you really feel no guilt for what we did an hour past?” When her gaze flickered away, he sighed. “I thought not. Yet the remedy for your uncertainty is within your grasp. Sanctify our bedding with a wedding.”

When she shook her head violently and cried, “I cannot! Don’t ask me again!” his grip tightened enough to hurt.

His breath whistled through his teeth, then his hands gentled. “Katrina mina, don’t do this to us. We’ve suffered too much to cast each other away now out of cowardice. I have fears I cannot calm despite myself, I admit, but I yearn to marry you anyway. Doesn’t that tell you how much you mean to me?” When she still wouldn’t look at him, his touch wandered. He stroked her nakedness from shoulder to ankle, then settled one big hand over her abdomen.

“You, too, have one irrefutable way to put me in my place: Prove me wrong.” He stroked her quivering stomach. “We may have conceived my heir this very night. How royally you shall mock me on the day you bring him forth, lusty and true as you are yourself.”