When Strangers Marry (12 page)

His brother murmured an indistinguishable reply as they left.

“You are very dirty,” Lysette said. “What have you been doing today, Max?”

Max ignored the question, wondering if anyone else in the family had speculated on his possible whereabouts the previous evening. “Did my mother happen to make mention of my departure last night?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied with an ironic edge to her tone. “She counseled me to forgive you for neglecting me on our wedding night, and sought to reassure me that in time you will improve.”

He took her elbow as they walked. “Would you like to know where I went last night?”

“Not particularly,” Lysette said, and he grinned at the obvious lie. “However,” she added, “if you wish to tell me, go right ahead.”

“I went to see my former
placée
.” Max’s amusement persisted as Lysette jerked her elbow away from his grasp. “Shall I tell you what occurred between us?”

“No,” she snapped, and then stopped to stare at him warily. “Did you say ‘former’?”

“Yes, former. And nothing happened, other than that we agreed to end our arrangement for good.”

“
Nothing?
” she asked suspiciously.

“Not even a good-bye kiss.”

“Oh.” Aware of an unexpected wash of relief, Lysette fought to conceal her pleasure. She let him take her arm again, and they walked into his bedroom, where a steaming bath awaited. A cake of expensive hard-milled soap and a pile of folded toweling had been placed on an overturned bucket beside the tub. Max made an appreciative sound at the sight, and stripped off his shirt.

Lysette stopped suddenly, unable to keep from glancing at his body. Max was muscular and sun-bronzed, a healthy male who was fully in his prime. Heavy black hair covered his chest and narrowed into a silkier pelt over the muscled tautness of his abdomen. His bare arms were corded and heavily developed from work on the plantation, not to mention years of fencing. Lysette stopped breathing as
she watched him stride to the bed and sit on the edge of it.

Max stared at her with coffee-dark eyes. A smile tipped one corner of his mouth as he noticed her interest. He pulled off his muddy boots with a grunt of exertion, dropped the offending articles to the floor, and brushed the dried clay from his hands. With each movement, muscles flexed beneath his gleaming tanned skin. Lysette noticed a few marks on his torso, including a star-shaped scar on his shoulder.

“Where did those scars come from?” she asked.

“Dueling wounds. My honor, negligible as it may seem, has taken many contests of skill to defend.”

The musky, alluring smell of his skin drifted to Lysette’s nostrils. It made her want to draw closer and press her face into the salty heat of his neck. She approached him slowly, her gaze returning to the scars. “I suppose some of the young Creoles in town seek to prove their manhood by fighting you,” she said. “Like wolves challenging the leader of the pack. Have you ever wounded someone fatally?”

Max shook his head. “Usually honor is satisifed when first blood is drawn. I’ve always tried to avoid dueling, except for the one with Sagesse. I only fight when they make it impossible not to.”

“I understand,” Lysette said gently, reaching out to touch the scar on his shoulder. She hadn’t been aware of moving closer to his half-naked body, but she was right next to him, her breath stirring the hair on his chest. How many times had Max faced the point of a sword? How close to death had he
come? The thought bothered her profoundly. Disconcerted, Lysette turned away from him. “You must be tired after so much exertion today. No doubt you are looking forward to your bath. I will leave you to—”

Lysette broke off as she heard a rustling sound behind her. He had removed his trousers, she realized. He was completely naked. She was immobilized with indecision, wanting to stay, wanting to go.

She heard the sound of his body plunging into the water. “Why don’t you help me bathe,
petite
?”

Lysette turned then, helplessly taking in the resplendent sight of gleaming male skin, the hard curves of his shoulders rising above the wooden rim of the tub. “Do you need help?” Her lungs felt hot and dilated, as if she had inhaled some of the abundant steam around him.

“You said that you wanted to become accustomed to me. I am giving you an opportunity to do that.”

“How kind of you.”

Max grinned and settled back in the tub, sighing as the scalding water engulfed his strained muscles. He slitted his eyes, looking like a lazy tomcat in the sunshine. “You could at least hand me the soap,
ma petite
.” A smile touched his lips as he added provokingly, “Be brave, will you?”

Lysette was not one to back down from a challenge. And her curiosity far outweighed her apprehension. “Certainly,
mon mari
.” She picked up the cake of soap and sniffed it, detecting the scent of lemongrass.

Max levered himself upward, exposing his broad sinewy back. Again she was reminded of a tomcat, silently demanding to be petted.

Lysette’s stomach tightened pleasurably. “Why not? I’ll scrub your back,
mon mari
. But you will have to do the rest yourself.” She pushed her sleeves above her elbows as she approached the tub. The water was clear beneath the ascending steam, affording her a view of the rampant erection beneath the water. Although she tried not to react to the startling sight, a flush spread upward to her hairline.

Max arched a brow, as if expecting a virginal scream of hysterical surprise. Lysette continued around the tub until she stood behind him. “That looks painful,” she commented.

He tilted his head back to look at her upside down. “For me, or for you?”

Lysette couldn’t help but smile at the provocative question, while the heat of her blush intensified. “For both of us, I would guess.”

Reserving comment, Max leaned forward once more. Lysette immersed her hands in the water and rubbed the soap between them, until the tart scent of lemongrass filled the air. Setting the soap aside, she began to spread the creamy substance over his back, her fingers molding over the hard indentations of muscle and the thick ridge of his spine. Rivulets of water and soap coursed down his tanned skin.

It seemed unspeakably intimate to wash his hair, but she did that as well, her soapy fingers working
through the dark wet locks and scrubbing the scalp underneath. Max enjoyed her ministrations unabashedly. Lysette rose to her feet to tip the bucket of fresh water over his head, rinsing the suds away.

Carefully she set the bucket down, while Max raked the wet locks back from his forehead. His water-spiked lashes lifted as he gazed at her. “Why don’t you join me in here?”

The suggestion surprised and aroused Lysette. A sweet ache blossomed in her chest, spreading to the tips of her breasts until they tightened into sensitive points. When she managed to speak, her throat felt thick and tingling, as if she had been drinking warm honey.

“There’s not enough room for two,” she said.

“There is if we sit close enough.” When Lysette remained still, Max leaned over to her. His mouth found a vulnerable spot on her throat, and he licked and nibbled gently. She drew in a quick breath, her throat moving against the masculine scrape of his jaw. The world seemed to topple slowly, as if she were inside some vast crystal bowl that rolled languidly on its side.

As Lysette reached out in a bid for balance, one of her hands came to rest on the furry surface of his chest. Her fingers sank into a mat of hot waterlogged curls. Her thumb rested on the silken edge of his nipple…She couldn’t stop herself from stroking until it contracted into a hard point. Max made a low sound and slid one hand around the back of her head. She let him pull her mouth to his, and he kissed her with lazy hunger.

Pleasure swirled over her, her skin alive to the slightest touch. She opened her mouth dreamily, letting him explore her with slow strokes of his tongue. She did not protest as he took her hand and guided it beneath the water. Hot as the bath was, it was nothing compared to the searing heat of his arousal.

Her fingers were pliable, obedient, curving around the heavy masculine length of him. He felt nothing like she had expected. His skin was like thin satin that had been stretched tightly over the hardness of his shaft. Her hand drifted over the shape of him, exploring delicately beneath the water. Max continued to kiss her, his breath striking hard against her cheek, and the awareness of his growing excitement made her feel dizzy and drunk.

Lysette leaned forward to press closer to him, until the front of her dress was soaked and the rim of the tub dug hard into her middle. It was only that burgeoning pain that recalled her to her senses. She winced and pulled back, panting heavily.

Max’s face was at once relaxed and intent, his lashes half lowered over eyes that burned with dark heat. Lysette blinked and rubbed her wet hands over her face.

Max reached out and brushed his thumb over a water droplet that was working its way lazily down her cleavage. “Kiss me again,” he murmured.

Lysette laughed shakily and struggled to her feet, while the soaked front of her gown made her shiver. “I think you’ve had quite enough of me for today, monsieur.”

He stood in the tub, water cascading down his aroused body in shimmering streams. “If I’d had enough of you,
ma petite
, I wouldn’t look like this.”

Lysette whirled away with a gasp. She felt him make a swipe at her, and she eluded him nimbly. A burst of agitated giggles escaped her. “Don’t you dare, Max! Don’t touch me!”

He climbed from the tub and stalked after her, while she flew to the door. Her hand closed around the painted porcelain knob as it occurred to her that she could not run through the house in this waterlogged condition. Neither could she retreat to her room to change, as the housemaids were probably still occupied with sweeping the carpet and changing the linens. “Now, Max,” she said in a reasonable tone, still facing away from him, “enough of this. I’ll fetch you a towel and—”

His long, wet arms closed around her, and she felt the water from his chest soak through the back of her gown. Another high-pitched giggle erupted from her lips, and she damned herself for losing all traces of self-possession. “Max, you’ve made me wet all over!”

His mouth descended to the back of her neck, kissing softly. “Sweet little wife,” he whispered. “Let me have just a little more of you. I won’t break my promise, I swear. Just let me touch you. Please.”

She felt him tug at the back of her gown, and the laces gave way, releasing her confined flesh in an impetuous spill. The bodice of her gown began to slide, and before she could prevent it, the gown dropped to the floor in a wet heap. She was left
dressed only in a damp chemise and stockings. Max’s hand slid over the tight curve of her bare buttocks, and she jumped at the startling touch.

He crooned wordlessly, his chest working against her back as he breathed in deep gusts. His hand glided over her hip and around to her front, his fingertips brushing across the hollow of her navel. Lysette flattened her palms on the hard wood paneling of the door. “Max,” she managed to say shakily, “you shouldn’t.”

“I’ll stop the moment you tell me to.” His palm passed lightly over the springy thatch of hair between her thighs. His teeth caught the nape of her neck lightly, and then he soothed the nip with gentle strokes of his tongue. “Don’t be afraid. I only want to please you.
Dieu
, how sweet you are.”

Her traitorous throat closed on a protest, while his nearness caused her body to ache in deep, intimate places. She continued to face away from him, gasping, while he eased the chemise up to her waist. He let the scorching length of his erection press high on her buttocks, the head of the shaft seeming to brand her like heated iron. Reality slid free of Lysette’s tenuous grasp, and she let herself push back against his steaming male body.

His fingers wandered through the fiery curls, softly exploring the tender feminine mound. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t make herself tell him to stop. It felt too good. He sifted through the springy triangle, until Lysette moaned and spread her legs in an involuntary plea. His mouth touched her ear and wandered to her damp cheek.

Gently his clever fingers parted her swollen lips and entered the tender cleft. “
Petite
, I’ve dreamed of touching you here…like this…yes, let me,
ma belle
….” He found the tiny peak of flesh that had begun to throb with sensation, and his wet fingertips nudged, circled, coaxed, until Lysette began to whimper and roll her forehead against the door. Her heart raced out of control, the blood pumping wildly through her veins.

“Max,” she said raggedly, “Oh, Max…”

His middle finger slipped inside her, gliding easily through the tight opening. She stiffened at the tender invasion, while a hot glow spread through her loins. “Shall I stop now?” he whispered. His finger withdrew, causing her to shudder hungrily. “Tell me, Lysette, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

She turned to face him, her arms winding around his neck, her nipples pressing into the thick fleece on his chest. All principles had burned to cinders in the white-hot conflagration of desire. “Max, make love to me, now, please, please,
please—
”

“I won’t take your virginity yet.” His hand coasted down her back in a stroke that was meant to soothe, but caused her to writhe wildly. “Not until I’m certain that you truly want it.”

“I do want it,” she moaned. “I do.”

His hand slid back between her legs, his fingers returning unerringly to the place where she needed them most. “I’ll give you ease. I just wanted to make certain that you were willing.”

If she were any more willing, she would burst into flames. Her head fell back against his supportive
arm while her hips squirmed in constricted circles, responding to his every caress. The sensations flared rapidly, too fast, too hot, and she cried out as her body was suddenly overtaken with rich spasms, her nerves sparking with heat, pleasure inundating every part of her until she was weak and shivering. She sagged against him, burying her face in his shoulder.