A Scarlet Bride (22 page)

"Your Uncle Sydney looked tired tonight. Is he feeling well?" Connor asked, bringing her back to the present.

"I don't know. Aunt Clara told me the doctor has warned him to slow down."

"For your Aunt Clara's sake, I hope he listens to the doctor. I like your aunt and uncle. They're a nice couple."

"Aunt Clara is a hopeless romantic who tamed my rogue of an uncle." Alexandra laughed. "She told me tonight that she thinks you're enchanted with me."

"What if she were right?"

She turned and
came
facetoface
with him. The blue of his eyes reminded her of cornflowers in the meadow on a clear summer day. They were mere inches apart. Close enough that she could see his chest rise and feel his breath whisper soft against her.

All it would take was for her to reach out and touch him and she would be lost to the sensations Connor always evoked.
Lost to the wonder of the one man who had singularly managed to alter her destiny once again.

The question stunned her. She should walk away from him, but her legs would not move. It was as if she was transfixed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

"I don't know," she said. "I've never considered you caring for me. I'm just now getting used to thinking of the two of us together."

He reached out and touched her, trailing his fingers along the curve of her jaw. She tilted her head to give him more access.

His voice was deep and melodic. "It has been different, hasn't it? I don't know what I expected from marriage, but I was not prepared for this."

Alexandra smiled. "Does that mean you like it, or not?"

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head back. "I like it very much. More than I ever expected."

His lips came down and grazed hers in a gentle, quick kiss. The brush of his lips sent desire pulsing through her. She gazed up at him and saw the passion reflected in his hooded eyes. She saw the man who had spent the afternoon comforting her, had spent an afternoon playing in the surf with her, who had even been gracious when she beat him at chess. She saw a man who had given her more pleasure in one month of her life than she'd had in the previous six years. Connor was the person who made her laugh, held her when she cried.

She saw the man she had vowed she would never be intimate with, and only knew that no matter what had happened in the past, she wanted him. She wanted him tonight.

Tomorrow she would face the cold light of day, but now she wanted the man who had defended her, helped her, the man who had brought joy back into her life.

She moved into his arms, and her mouth lifted up in eager anticipation of his sensual assault, surrender only a heartbeat away.

Surprised at her sudden move, Connor hesitated,
then
kissed her again. But this time it was not a simple peck of lips. This time he poured his soul into his kiss, and all the
pentup
desire he'd kept dammed for the last month came flooding out. A moan resounded from the back of his throat as his lips sought and plundered hers. He felt like a drowning man going down for the final time as he pulled her close, her breasts crushed against his chest.

Why did this woman affect him like none before her? How was it she had managed to get under his skin when none of the others had? He craved her touch like a man addicted to opium.

She tasted of honey and sweetness, of passion and tangled sheets, and he wanted nothing more than to take her to bed and slip into her womanly sheath, to experience what he had
craved
from the first day they met.

But he had changed since that first meeting. He no longer wanted just her body, just another conquest, but total and complete surrender to the passion he felt between them. He wanted her to come to him without hesitation, wanting him as much as he wanted her. Mindless sex would no longer suffice with this woman, his wife. He wanted her body and soul, her eager and willing. He wanted her like no other woman before her. Only Alexandra seemed to fill that emptiness inside him.

He wrenched his lips away from hers, his breathing hard and fast. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"Kiss me again before I change my mind."

Connor needed no further invitation. His lips eagerly sought hers as he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the Louis XV bed in the center of her room. The curtains billowed in the breeze, caressing Connor's skin as he
lay
Alexandra on the bed. He blew out the lamp, yanked off his robe, and climbed on the bed beside her. For a moment, he did nothing but run his hand through her hair and down her silken robe, unable to believe they were together in her bed. She gave a soft sigh of pleasure, her eyes half closed.

She turned to face him, her hand reaching out tentatively to caress his cheek in the semidarkness. "It's been a long time and I never was very good at this."

Connor put a finger to her lips. That was the past, he was the future. "You're only as good as your partner is willing to give. I plan on giving you the moon and the stars tonight."

His lips closed over hers, silencing her reply. He sought the edges of her mouth, gently nipping her with his teeth until she opened for him. Like a starved man, his tongue swept the inside of her mouth, plundering and receiving pleasure beyond his dreams. She returned his kiss with an equal passion of her own, stunning him with the intensity.

His hand slipped down to the sash of her robe. Slowly, he pushed the garment back, eager to
unwrap
the package before him. He moved down her body, trailing light kisses along her neck and shoulders, until he reached the valley between her breasts. Through the silk of her nightgown, he suckled at the slinky material clinging to her hardened nipple. She moaned a low, throaty noise as he slid the nightgown down to her waist.

Moonlight glowed from her skin and he sucked in his breath at the sight of her naked breasts. Her skin was as white and soft as a newborn babe, her areolas a strawberry pink.

Through the silk of her nightgown, his hand sought and caressed her womanly apex. The honey of her arousal was warm against his fingers. She arched upward against his hand, seeking fulfillment.

"Oh, Connor," she whispered into the darkness.

Lifting her up, he stripped the rest of her nightgown from her body. The sight of her naked flesh caused him to gasp with delight. She was more than he'd ever imagined. Her body must have been crafted by the angels to leave a man aching with desire. Quickly, he shed his pajama bottoms and slid next to his wife's satin skin. He was strength and hardness; she was softness and silk.

They lay side by side, her breath a soft caress against his lips. He drank in the sight of her body next to his, and felt intoxicated with desire. Taking her hand, he moved it down his body until her fingers rested on the stem of his passion. Her fingertips ran over his maleness, touching the tip gingerly. He reached for the center of her being and as his fingers delved into her, while she stroked him. For every caress he gave to Alexandra, she returned one, until Connor felt as if he were ablaze. Every time she touched him, the heat of his need flamed anew until he wasn't sure who consumed whom.

Finally, unable to stand the heat any longer, he rose above her on the bed and urged her legs apart. He plunged into her womanly sheath, into her welcome heat.

Her hands clutched his back as he thrust into her, and she held onto him, giving as much as she received. Never before had he been given so much pleasure from a woman. Never before had his heart reacted to a woman's soft cries of passion. Never before had he seen such innocence and sweetness in an experienced woman.

Using every ounce of willpower he commanded, he was gentle and caring. With every ounce of strength, he withheld his own pleasure until he thought he would explode.

She was heaven and she was hell.
Heaven in that he wanted this to last forever, hell because he knew that with each stroke he came closer to release.
Came closer to losing control of both his body and his soul.

With a gasp of astonishment, she dug her nails into his back, clinging to him as she cried out his name.
That was all Connor needed to send him over the edge.
The sound of her crying out in pleasure sent him spiraling over the top, spilling his seed deep within her.

He collapsed atop her, his mind whirling in a thousand directions. She had been tentative and shy with her caresses. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was with a woman who had little or no sexual experience.

For several moments they simply lay there. Finally, when their breathing had returned to normal and Connor's heart was no longer racing, he rolled over and pulled her into his arms. Kissing the top of her head, he said, "Mrs.
Manning, that
was absolutely breathtaking."

Alexandra sighed. "Incredible. I've never ..."

Connor glanced at her in surprise. "You've never what?"

She blushed and looked away. "Forget I said anything."

He couldn't help but stare.

Finally, she turned, reached up, and pulled his chin toward her. He read the confusion and fear in her eyes. She swallowed. "I'd much rather you be truthful than lie to me," she said. "Did I please you?"

"Oh, honey. It was absolutely wonderful." He stroked her naked back. "What did Gordon do to make you doubt your abilities as a woman?"

He felt her body tense, and wanted to curse his stupidity for bringing up the subject of Gordon in their bed. Why hadn't he waited?

"Please don't talk of him tonight, Connor."

She was right. He was the biggest fool. He wanted to kick himself for bringing up a painful subject immediately after making love with his wife for the first time. But he couldn't help it; he was curious.

She was an enigma. He knew from past experiences that adulterous women were usually confident of their prowess in bed and never seemed hesitant in the act. But Alexandra didn't act like a woman accustomed to lying with different men. It did not fit the person he was coming to know. He stroked the stubble on his chin in consideration and wondered again about his wife. Had she really committed adultery?

Alexandra awoke feeling trapped. A masculine leg was wrapped around her own, an arm thrown over her breasts, her buttocks snug against a very naked Connor. The events of the night before came flooding back with heated self consciousness. Twice during the night he'd awakened her with soft kisses and passionate caresses. Each time her body had eagerly responded to his touch. Each time she had willingly abandoned herself to his lovemaking, much to her surprise.

Flames of embarrassment rushed to her face as she recalled the touches they had given one another. She'd never dreamed that being with a man could be so good. She'd never dreamed that she could lose herself so completely in Connor's embrace. She'd lost count of how many times he'd pushed her over the edge, of how many times she had cried out his name. Like the wanton that society claimed her to be, she had enjoyed every minute of their lovemaking.

A smile flashed across her face as she gazed at Connor's naked leg draped across her own. Certainly, she had never acted this way with Gordon.
Never cried out his name in passion, never moaned with desire for him.
But then Gordon had never been concerned with her pleasure, only his own need to make her submit to his strange desires. Distaste was the main emotion she had experienced with Gordon.
Distaste and humiliation.

Connor definitely knew how to please a woman, how to satisfy her in every way, how to take her to heights of bliss she had never experienced before. But how in the world was she supposed to face him this morning? How did one greet a man after acting shamelessly with him the night before?

She glanced over at the sleeping male figure beside her, aching to run her hand across his naked thigh. After her behavior, he could only believe the rumors about her. For no decent woman would have cried out with joy at the strokes of his fingers, no decent woman would have let him put his lips in the hidden recesses of her body and then curiously touch her lips to his.

Proper women only endured their husband's touch for procreation. But somehow the thought of creating a baby had not crossed her mind, until this moment. Stunned, her hand went down to her stomach.
A baby.
Could they have made a child last night?
A son to continue River Bend, or a daughter with her coloring?

She shook her head and sighed. There would be no baby. It had never happened with Gordon; it would not happen with Connor. Often Gordon had accused her of being barren, of not wanting his child. Another reason to be rid of her, he'd claimed.

Babies and families were a girl's dream. She was long past the age of a foolish young dreamer. Last night didn't mean that everything was going to turn out perfect. Last night didn't mean her dreams would turn into reality.

One night did not a lifetime
make.

Eight wonderful hours could not erase the damage of Gordon's humiliation or release her from her vow of revenge.

Nothing had changed. A sigh escaped her lips. Her revenge must still be her focus. She couldn't forget the past, the horrors of what Gordon had done. She couldn't let that beast get away with his lies and deceit. Now more than ever, it was imperative she punish those that had schemed against her. That she restore her good name.