The Present (12 page)

She opened each decanter to sniff it, then, surprising, chose the brandy to sprinkle some crushed herbs into. Stirring it briskly with her finger, which she then sucked clean, much to Christopher's horror—what that did to his already stiff condition was quite painful—she came back to the bed and handed him the glass.

There was barely a half inch of the golden spirits in the glass, made murky, though, by the powdered herb, which had him staring at it with a frown. "Why the brandy rather than the water?"

"Because the cure isn't very pleasant tasting, and the brandy will mask the taste. Drink it. You will feel much better in only, oh, fifteen minutes or so. Just enough time for me to take a quick bath."

The thought of her in his large tub had him gulping down her concoction to set it aside. "I'll join you—if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." She smiled down at him. "If you will promise to keep your hands to yourself until you are feeling no more pain."

He sighed. "Never mind, I'll suffer here—er, wait here for you."

She nodded, leaned over to kiss his brow, then paused to whisper by his ear, "Good things come to those who wait, Christoph."

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to her that his name wasn't that foreign-sounding Christoph, but he chose instead to savor the sight of those magnificent breasts that had come so close to his mouth when she leaned over him. He heard the door to the bathroom close and sighed again. But it wasn't long before he was fantasizing about her in that decadent bathroom.

It was the only room in the entire house that didn't fit the current decor and had been a complete surprise to him, on his first inspection of the estate. It was as if some puritan of the last century had decorated the house, but that single room had been hidden from them and so left intact. It was ancient Roman in design, huge, with a sunken tub that could easily fit six adults, entered by marble steps, surrounded by Grecian columns. Naked gold cherubs formed the waterspouts on the tub and the ornate sink.

He would bathe with her in there, and before they left for London. London . . . which reminded him, where the deuce was he going to keep her until he could find a suitable place for her? The servants in his town house couldn't be trusted not to gossip about her. Here in the country it hardly mattered; servant gossip didn't travel that far. But in London it certainly did, and he didn't care to have it run through the mills that he'd been bewitched by a Gypsy, despite the fact that it was absolutely true.

The door opened. She came back into the room as naked as when she'd left it. She came straight to the bed. She kneeled on it, threw back the sheet, then kneeled over him. He sucked in his breath at her boldness as she settled herself to sit on his loins. Her hip-length hair, which had graced her sides, curled on his belly in front of her.

"How is your headache?" she asked matter-of-factly, as if he weren't mesmerized by her actions.

"What headache?"

She smiled at that answer. "Any regrets, Christoph?"

He chuckled and moved his hips against her. "You must be joking."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean beyond what we are about to do. I know I can make you happy. I just wonder if you regret what fate has dealt you. I certainly do not."

He reached up to caress her cheek. "I don't think you realize how much you have already done for me. You were more accurate than I care to admit, in what you saw in me. I had become a dead shell. You've brought me back to life."

Her smile became brilliant. "We will be good for each other." She braced her hands on the bed at his shoulders to lean over him and whisper against his lips, "Very good."

He groaned, his arms going around her, pulling her down to feel all of her against him. And her lips, he captured those, too, his mouth closing with a voracious demand on hers. He felt her tense. It was too much passion all at once, yet he couldn't seem to slow down. It was as if he'd waited years and years for this one moment, this one woman, and there was no stopping him now that both were his.

But she stopped him. She forced herself out of his hold, and in his momentary surprise, she cupped his cheeks and ordered sharply, "Listen to me, Christoph. I will not let you hurt me because you are so intoxicated with passion that you are not thinking about what you are doing. Do you forget this is my first time with a man? Some other time we can do this swiftly, if that is your wish, but not this time. This time you will have a care for what you must break. I am prepared for the pain, but only you can lessen its impact. Or does it not matter to you if I suffer more?"

"Of course it matters," he said automatically.

Yet he was still reeling over her words. Good God, how could she be a virgin and be as bold as she'd been? Yet the truth would be discovered within moments, so this couldn't be a pretense on her part.

"You are awful brazen for a virgin," he pointed out, rather tactlessly, he realized too late.

But she laughed, rather than taking offense. "We are going to spend the rest of our lives together. For what reason would I conceal anything from you? I am yours, Christoph. It would be silly for me to hide myself from you, would it not?"

I am yours. Strangely enough, hearing her say that filled him with tenderness. He rolled them over, so that he was the one leaning over her. He kissed her, gently this time. There was much to be said for savoring the moment.

She tasted heavenly. Her lips parted easily for him, pulled on his tongue as he sent it exploring. His hand moved over her firm breast. She arched upward, filling his hand completely. He nearly laughed in delight. A wanton virgin, what more could a man ask for?

"You will tell me, then, when you are ready?" he asked huskily.

"I think . . . you will know," she gasped out.

So he would. He smiled, continuing his exploration. Her skin was silken smooth, warm. He found himself caressing her reverently, marveling at her perfect shape, her softness, her reactions to his touch. He was hard, aching to be inside her, yet he was so fascinated by her that it was the sweetest bliss, watching her experience lovemaking for the first time. She shivered, she groaned, she thrust against his touch. She made him feel as if he were experiencing lovemaking for the first time as well.

And he did indeed know when she was ready. He was careful of his weight when he moved over her to settle between her thighs, and even more careful in entering her. The barrier was there as she'd claimed, and he did more teeth-gritting than she as he sundered it open. Her gasp was loud, but no more than a gasp. His kiss soothed her further. He gave her a few moments to recover from the discomfort, didn't continue until she began returning his kiss. Her passion reignited, he slid the rest of the way into her depths, slowly, exquisitely, until at last she fit all of him. It was nearly more than he could bear without losing control, such tight heat gripping him, so much pleasure, yet he managed to hold off the final bliss, to withdraw and begin a gentle thrusting that she could tolerate. Yet it was soon apparent that she was beyond the need for moderation, and one deep thrust sent them both on that glorious ride to fruition.

Christopher had never realized just how pleasant it could be, to simply hold a woman close to him and savor the feel of her warm body. He supposed he'd never really taken the time before to find out, always impatient to either sleep or be off about his business, once he finished satisfying his needs. Then, too, he'd never "kept" a mistress before, or brought one into his own bed.

Not that he hadn't had many mistresses over the years, but they'd had their own abodes, their own agendas separate from his, and the typical arrangement with these types of mistresses was that they'd merely agree to accommodate each other exclusively for a time. They'd cost him no more than the occasional expensive trinket.

Anastasia, now, would be completely "kept." He'd be supplying her with a home where he could visit her, servants to see to her comfort, clothes, food, as well as the expensive trinkets. She was going to be costly. She was most definitely worth it.

"You sound famished," she said when they'd both heard his belly rumble for the third time.

"Perhaps because I am," he replied lazily, still in no hurry to get up. "Come to think of it, don't recall having dinner last night—bloody hell, it's no wonder that rum went right to my head. Any idea what time it is?"

"Quite late, midmoming at least."

He chuckled. "You call that late?"

"When you're used to rising with the dawn, yes, that's very late."

He smiled. "There'll be no reason for you to rise that early anymore."

"I happen to like the dawn, to watch the sunrise. Don't you?"

"Hmmm, never thought about it—actually, don't recall seeing too many sunrises. Sunsets are more in line with my habits."

"I think you'll enjoy the dawn with me, Christoph," she predicted.

"I know you'll enjoy sunsets with me," he countered.

"And why can't we enjoy both?"

He sat up to look down at her. "You aren't thinking of changing my habits, are you? And why do you persist in calling me Christoph? Didn't I tell you last night that my name was Christopher?"

"You did. Kit, too, you said your friends call you. But I happen to like Christoph much better. It sounds more lyrical to my ears. Consider it an endearment."

"Must I?"

She chuckled and rolled to the side of the bed, then headed for her clothes. "I think we must feed you immediately. Empty bellies lead to grouchiness."

He blinked, then grinned to himself. She was right, of course. There was nothing wrong with her having a pet name for him. And besides, when she sashayed about the room naked like that, he simply couldn't find anything really worth complaining about.

He got up to dress as well. When he finished and glanced at her again, it was to find that she was wearing that flashy dancing costume from last night, which would draw more attention to her than he would like.

"Have you nothing else to wear?" he asked.

"You didn't exactly give me the opportunity to pack last night, Christoph. All I have is my satchel, which my grandmother tossed up to me just before you sent that mad stallion of yours galloping out of the camp."

He grimaced with the reminder that he'd been less than gentlemanly last night. "I'll take you back today to collect your things—-and perhaps to town to buy something more . . . normal looking."

She raised a brow at his choice of words. "You think my clothes are not normal?"

"Well, certainly they are." His tone turned conciliatory. "It is just, they are . . . well . . ."

He couldn't come up with an appropriate word that

wouldn't insult her. She supplied some for him, and it wasn't difficult to see that she was insulted.

"Common perhaps? Peasantlike? Suitable only for Gypsy vagabonds?"

"There is no need for you to take offense, Anastasia. Your clothes were perfectly fine for the life you were living on the road. But you'll be living differently from now on. It's as simple as that."

She was frowning now, not at all placated. "Are you going to have trouble, Christoph, dealing with what I am?"

"What you are?"

"That I'm a Gypsy?"

"Half Gypsy, or so you've claimed."

She waved that aside. "I was raised as a Gypsy, not as a Russian. I may not think or do exactly as most Gypsies, but I am still one of them."

He came over to her and put his arms around her. ''We are not having our first light."

"We aren't?"

"No, we aren't. I forbid it."

She leaned back to stare into his eyes. "I will make some allowances to accommodate you. You must do the same for me. In such a way we can come to agree on everything in the end. Fair enough?"

"You have a unique way of looking at things that I think I can get quite used to. For right now, shall we agree to raid the kitchen?"

"If that is what it takes to obtain some breakfast, certainly." She waved her arm toward the door with a flourish and a bow. "After you—Lord Englishman."

He rolled his eyes and pushed her in front of him so he could swat her backside playfully. "No more of that. Christoph will most definitely do."

She giggled. "If you insist."