Authors: Leigh Greenwood
“You taste of mint,” he said, as he kissed her nose. “I like it.” Sara vowed to drink the same tea every night for the rest of her life.
As Gavin’s lips sank to her neck and then her shoulders, Sara became aware for the first time of Gavin’s own musky, masculine scent. She allowed her head to loll to one side, so that he could place his kisses unhindered. If the feel of his fingertips had excited her, the touch of his lips was electrifying. Her whole body was racked by uncontrollable tremors. The sensation was heightened still further when one hand slipped into the top of her gown and found her breast. Gently Gavin cupped the tender mound and rubbed her firming nipple, until it throbbed with a delicious ache. Sara’s whole body arched rigidly, the aching, stinging pleasure causing her muscles to behave according to rules of their own choosing. She could only lie there, utterly helpless under the onslaught of his lips and hands, totally incapable of governing her body’s response to his touch.
His other hand slid the loose gown over her shoulder and down her arms, until she felt it bunch at her waist. Half of her body was exposed to his attack!
But this gentle wooing was no attack. Sara felt like her body was being gradually released from its trammels, freed of inhibiting barriers, invited to immerse itself in a pool of warm and inviting sensual delight. Gavin’s gentle hands captured her other breast, and even though she soon felt his lips take one achingly sensitive nipple into their hot grasp and tug and tease until she thought she would moan aloud, she felt her taut muscles relax and waves of unexpected contentment spread to every part of her body.
Sara had never felt like this. She had always been excited by Gavin’s presence, and aware of unexplained sensations that disturbed her calm, but not even her wedding night had prepared her for this cornucopia of sensual pleasures. She felt like melting butter, her whole body was boneless, floating powerlessly on the undulating waves of pleasure which emanated from her teased and tortured breasts and ricocheted off her rib cage. A marvelous detachment came over her, an indescribable feeling of well-being, and she was almost unaware that Gavin had slipped her gown under her hips and dropped it silently to the floor.
Again it was Gavin’s fingertips which explored new territory, setting more of her body aflame until she felt like a fiery sacrifice to his need. The muscles of her abdomen rolled and pitched as first his fingertips and then his lips played over her ultra-sensitive skin. Sara could feel herself sinking deeper and deeper into the welcoming embraces of this ecstasy, and not even the progress of one hand down her side and along her thigh had the power to draw her from the nimbus of pleasurable sensations which enveloped her.
She was aware only that the center of these delicious feelings had begun to shift, unconcerned that one hand had strayed to her inner thigh while the other, leaving her breasts to the ministrations of his lips and tongue, had taken a more direct route across her abdomen, both on a course which would cause them to meet at the apex of her thighs.
They met, and Sara’s whole being was ablaze, a molten core erupting at last through the hard crust of fear and ignorance. Sara felt her body relax to welcome Gavin, enfold him, and draw him deep within her.
She could not have said what he did, what was happening to her, because she was incapable of thinking, of remembering. She knew only that she held in her arms the man she had dreamed about for half her life; she knew only that his incredible gentleness had slain the last vestiges of fear and distrust; she knew only that never before had she felt so alive, so wildly happy, so indescribably wonderful! The feeling continued to intensify until Sara clung to Gavin with all her strength, hoping never to let go, trying to absorb him within her, certain she would shatter into nothingness if they were ever separated.
Then it happened; she did shatter in the most exquisite burst of fireworks she could imagine. Her body was racked with an aching hunger which stretched every muscle to its breaking point, and turned every nerve into a shooting star of desire. Explosion after explosion battered Sara’s newly responsive senses until she felt she was slipping into nothingness, her whole body incandescent with fulfillment.
Sara woke to the sound of someone moving about her room.
“Drat!” Betty said, when she saw her mistress was awake. “You were sleeping so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.” She picked up a breakfast tray, meaning to bring it to Sara.
“Leave it on the table,” Sara said, beginning to indulge in a pleasurable stretch. “I’m not hungry yet.” But she had no sooner raised her arms from under the covers than she realized that she was completely naked. Instantly the whole of the previous night came flooding back to her, and she pulled the covers up to her chin.
“You all right?” Betty asked.
Sara nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“You look a little funny. Different somehow.”
I
feel
different, Sara thought, but said, “I guess I’m still tired from all this traveling. It’ll be nice to get home.”
“That it will, but I don’t mind telling, I wish home was London. This is cold country, milady, the kind that penetrates all the way to your bones.”
I’m not a bit cold, Sara thought to herself. If Gavin continues to use me as he did last night, I niay never be cold again. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, but she had already forgotten what Betty had complained of. She could only think of Gavin and last night.
“Perhaps,” Betty said doubtfully, “but I’d better set about getting everything made of wool. You’ll catch your death in a cotton chemise.”
“What’s in that pot?”
“Hot milk.”
“I thought it might be. Ask the innkeeper for some cocoa instead, and wait until it’s ready.”
She hated to send Betty on a made-up errand, but she wanted to be left alone to take stock after last night, and Betty was distracting her thoughts. Last night had shaken the foundations of just about everything she believed about Gavin, the relationship between men and women, and the institution of marriage itself. She was going to have to start all over again, in her evaluation of what she wanted and how to go about getting it. She was pleased to know marriage offered her more than she had hoped for, but she could also see it was going to complicate matters a bit.
She had now seen another side of Gavin, one she knew was just as valid as ail the others, and somehow she had to fit this new Gavin into the picture with all the rest. She had seen him young and carefree, she had seen him angry, bitter, and disillusioned, and she had seen him burdened by guilt. She had no difficulty accepting a Gavin who lustily enjoyed her body, but how was she to reconcile all this with the man who made love to her with exquisite tenderness, who treated her as if she were made of spun gold? Not even his behavior in the coach had prepared her for this worshipful gentleness.
Even though she had been certain she loved him and wanted to be with him, she had been afraid of him after their wedding night. The very fact that he had a mistress, that the Earl had them as well, convinced her that laying with a woman was an essential part of the relationship between a man and a woman. But after that night, she both dreaded and feared a repetition. The fact that all
nice
women were supposed to feel the same way was no consolation. Yet last night it felt as though something entirely different had taken place between them, something as far different from that first night as she was from Clarice. This was something she could participate in, something she
wanted
to be a part of, something she
had
to be a part of, if she wanted him for herself alone. It was not merely a means of binding Gavin to her; it was a means of separating him from every other woman who had ever been a part of his life. As long as he wanted to satisfy his need with her, he would have no reason to seek them out. Sara was inwardly pleased with her discovery. It not only gave her a weapon of immense power, it made her feel more important, more able to influence the course of her own life.
There was a much more difficult side of this physical relationship to be considered, because there was an important part of it that was not physical in its essential nature. Sara admitted she couldn’t figure this out, at least not yet, but she knew it was pivotal. Otherwise, why would she feel so much closer to Gavin this morning? Why would she feel a part of him and not merely someone with whom he had experienced a few moments of passion? What had happened that enabled him to tug at her heartstrings in a way no one had since her father’s death? Why did she see him less as a handsome young Adonis and more as a much-troubled man? Was it possible that one night together could do this for just anybody, or was there something special between them?
Betty came bustling back from her errand and scattered Sara’s tenuous thoughts, but she felt much more optimistic than before. There
was
something special, something magical between them, and if that was so, there was something wonderful to be discovered, to be learned, and she could look forward to the coming days with eager anticipation.
Gavin strode through the streets of Edinburgh like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And indeed he felt they were. He was running to escape Sara, and the demons of love that had destroyed his mother’s happiness and were waiting with gaping jaws to crush him as well.
He had awakened this morning feeling more at peace than he had in years; it had lasted precisely the length of time it took him to turn his head and see Sara’s face on the pillow next to him. He had leapt from the bed as though it were aflame, and indeed it might as well have been, for all the comfort it gave him.
Why had he let Sara’s loveliness lure him into making love to her? Why had he let her innocence make him forget why she had married him? Why did he think love would treat him any differently than it had his parents? How could he have been such a fool to forget every vow he had made, to forsake bis chosen path?
The answer to all these questions was the thundering realization that, if he was fool enough to ignore the lessons of the past seven years, then he deserved whatever hell was reserved for those who will not learn from life’s crucible of experience. He deserved that Sara think less of him than of her lovers, care less for his comfort than for her pleasure, care so little for his children as not to have them. He deserved to be made mock of by his friends for being under the sway of a wife who did not return his regard, even though he was sure Sara would do her best to be discreet.
But he didn’t want discretion. He wanted all of her affection, all her loyalty, all her thoughts, or he wanted nothing at all from her. He told himself he was being unreasonable and unfair to both of them, but that didn’t alter anything. He knew he would never find the kind of love he was looking for, he had accepted that, but he couldn’t accept love on any other basis.
But a nagging doubt kept whispering in his ear. What if it is possible? What if you can have everything you want? Gavin didn’t want to listen, but he couldn’t stop himself. He barely knew Sara—he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for that—but he already suspected she was not like other women he knew, that maybe there was less worldliness in her than in most females of his class. After all, he had never asked her why she married him, and he shouldn’t have assumed he knew. Was it possible she
hadn’t
married him for the title he would inherit? That’s stupid, he told himself angrily. She couldn’t have married you for any other reason. She wouldn’t have known you from Adam if you hadn’t been standing at the altar. She might have developed a regard for you, if you and your father had ever given her the chance, but you didn’t. She married a perfect stranger for the same reason any other woman marries a perfect stranger, for the advantages the marriage would bring her.
Still, the nagging doubt would not be silent; it bedeviled his mind until, in near desperation, he uttered a scathing oath and started to run through the streets.
An old woman sweeping the steps in preparation for the coming of day was startled by his imprecations, and she quickly retreated indoors, certain he was mad.
Gavin stared furiously at the man seated across from him. “I have no intention of taking a hand in this rebellion, especially not against these poor misguided rebels.”
“I do, and I always shall despise these rascals,” Lt. Gen. Henry Hawley said with arrogant disdain to his cousin. “It is your duty as a loyal Englishman to support the—”
“I’m a Scotsman, too,” Gavin said, interrupting him abruptly. “I don’t approve of the rebellion, but I’ll not lift my sword against them.”
“If you’re not with us, then your loyalty must be suspect.”
“Don’t be a bigger fool than you already are,” Gavin snapped angrily. “I’m not a soldier, and I’m not required to fight. I came back to Scotland to see if I could find some way to make my people more prosperous.”
“I don’t think His Grace will sympathize with your position.”
“Then I know His Grace better than you, for all you’re his second in command.”
“Then the least you can do is put Estameer at the disposal of our troops.”
“Are you mad? Do you think for one minute I’d voluntarily turn over my estate to be trampled by thousands of feet and hooves, the land gouged by your guns, and the larder and barns emptied when the government can amply provide for its own? Set one foot on Estameer, and I’ll raise the whole countryside against you.”