Again the Magic (4 page)

McKenna pushed it all the way to the second knuckle, and stroked the sleek inner walls, while her body automatically grasped and clung to the gentle invasion. Groaning as he felt the frantic throbbing of her flesh, McKenna fitted the heel of his hand against the tingling peak of her sex. He began a slow, rocking motion, his finger thrusting deeper, his hand nudging her rhythmically.

“Oh…” Aline couldn’t stop from hitching upward in slavish obedience to the provocations of his hand. “Oh, McKenna…”

He slid his free arm beneath her back, lifting her breasts as he kissed her breasts again, his tongue playing over the stiff tips. A swell of sensation rose, then retreated to leave her moaning with excitement. McKenna didn’t falter, caressing her steadily, his teeth catching at her nipples until they turned redder, harder. Aline concentrated on the deep slide of his finger, the coiling, clenching pleasure that went through her loins and spine, until she lost awareness of everything but his hands, his mouth, his heavy body poised over hers. She imagined his sex plunging into her, rending and stretching and filling her… and suddenly she couldn’t move as voluptuous spasms began to roll through her… waves of relief so intense that she wailed from it, while his mouth hastily covered hers to muffle all sound. Shuddering and sobbing, she rode the pleasure to its dizzying summit, then drifted downward while his slick fingers eased her into tranquillity.

Murmuring quietly, McKenna held and stroked her until she went limp beneath him, her limbs turning heavy and warm. His hand began to withdraw from her drenched sex, but she reached down and covered his fingers with her own. “Come inside me,” she whispered. “I want you so, McKenna. Come in me, come—”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. He rolled away with a groan, his fingers biting into the damp earth and dislodging great fistfuls of moss. “Cover yourself. I can’t touch you anymore, or I won’t be able to stop myself from—” He broke off with a shuddering sound that betrayed how very close he was to taking her. “Pull down your skirts. Please.”

“I want you,” she said breathlessly.

“Now.
I mean it, Aline.”

She didn’t dare disobey, not when she could hear that biting note in his voice. Heaving a sigh, she struggled to restore her clothing. After a while McKenna rested on his side to watch her. He seemed to have regained control over himself, though his eyes were still bright with unspent passion.

Aline shook her head with a wistful smile. “No one will ever look at me the way you do. As if you love me with every part of yourself.”

Slowly he reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s how you look at me too.”

She caught at his hand and kissed the rough surface of his knuckles. “Promise me that we’ll be together always.”

But he remained silent, for they both knew it was a promise that he couldn’t make.

Aline knew that the safest thing would be to pretend those passion-filled minutes by the river had never existed. It was impossible, however. Whenever McKenna was nearby, she felt her entire body thrilling to his presence. Emotions seemed to spill from her, charging the atmosphere until she was certain that anyone could sense them. She didn’t dare meet McKenna’s gaze in front of others, afraid that her expression might give her away. McKenna did far better than she in maintaining an impassive facade, but some of the servants, including Mrs. Faircloth, remarked on how unusually quiet he had been for the past week. It was clear to those who knew him well that something was troubling him.

“It’s his age, I suppose,” Mrs. Faircloth told Salter, the butler. “Young men are all high spirits and mischief one day, all gloom and rebellion the next.”

“No matter what his temperament, McKenna had better do his work well,” Salter said dourly. “Or it’s back to the stables for good, and he’ll be a lower servant for the rest of his days.”

When Aline repeated the comment to McKenna one afternoon, he pulled a face and laughed. He was busy polishing the lacquered panels of a carriage, while Aline sat on an overturned bucket and watched him. The covered carriage room was empty and silent, save for the whickering and shifting of the horses in the stalls beyond the court.

McKenna’s exertions had caused him to sweat until his white shirt clung limply to the muscular surface of his back. His shoulders bunched and flexed as he applied a film of wax to the black lacquer, and rubbed it until it shone like glass. Aline had offered to help him, but he had adamantly refused and taken the cloth from her. “It’s my job,” he had told her brusquely. “You sit over there and watch.”

Aline had obeyed with pleasure, enjoying the masculine grace of his movements. As in everything else he did, McKenna performed the task meticulously. He had been taught since childhood that good work was its own reward — and that, coupled with a complete lack of ambition, made him a perfect servant. It was the only fault that Aline could find with him — his automatic acceptance of his lot in life, a resignation so intrinsic that it seemed nothing could ever change it. In fact, she mused guiltily, if it wasn’t for her, McKenna would have been perfectly happy with his fate. She was the only thing he had ever wanted that he couldn’t have. And she knew how selfish it was of her to keep him so firmly tied to her, but she couldn’t make herself let him go. He was as necessary to her as food and water and air.

“You don’t want to be a lower servant forever, do you?” she pressed, bringing her thoughts back to their conversation.

“I’d like it better than working in the house and wearing livery,” he retorted.

“Mrs. Faircloth thinks that you could make it to first footman someday, or even valet.” Aline neglected to mention the housekeeper’s regretful observation that although McKenna would make a wonderful valet, his chances of that were greatly diminished by his handsomeness. No master wanted to have a valet whose looks and bearing outshone his own. Far better to keep someone like McKenna in livery that clearly marked him as a servant. “And then you would be better paid.”

“I don’t care about that,” he muttered, applying more wax to the door of the extension-front carriage. “What do I need more money for?”

Aline frowned thoughtfully. “To buy a little cottage someday, and farm your own plot of land.”

McKenna paused in the midst of his polishing and glanced over his shoulder with a sudden devilish spark in his blue-green eyes. “And who would live with me, in my cottage?”

Aline met his gaze and smiled, while a fantasy took hold of her and suffused her with warmth. “Me, of course.”

Considering that, McKenna hung the waxing cloth on the hook of the carriage lamp before approaching her slowly. Aline’s stomach quivered at the look on his face. “I’d need to earn a fair coin for that,” he murmured. “Keeping you would be an expensive proposition.”

“I wouldn’t cost so much,” she protested indignantly.

He gave her a skeptical glance. “The price of your hair ribbons alone would beggar me, wife.”

The word “wife,” uttered in that low tone, made her feel as if she had swallowed a spoonful of sugar syrup. “I’ll make up for it in other ways,” she replied.

Smiling, McKenna reached down and pulled her to her feet. His hands ran lightly over her sides, lingering just beneath her arms, the heels of his hands brushing against her breasts. The musky male scent of him and the gleam of his sweat-dampened skin made her swallow hard. She drew a little rose-embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted his forehead.

Taking the dainty cloth from her, McKenna regarded the handiwork of green and pink silk threads with a smile. “Did you do this?” His thumb stroked over the embroidered flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

She colored in pleasure at the compliment. “Yes, I worked on it in the evenings. A lady should never sit with idle hands.”

McKenna tucked the handkerchief into the waist of his trousers and glanced swiftly at their surroundings. Ascertaining that they were completely alone, he slid his arms around her. His hands skimmed over her back and hips to exert delicious pressure in just the right places, adjusting their closeness with sensuous precision. “Will you be there waiting for me every night, in our cottage?” he murmured.

She nodded, leaning against him.

McKenna’s bristly black lashes lowered until they cast shadows on his cheeks. “And you’ll scrub my back when I’m tired and dusty from the field?”

Aline pictured his large, powerful body lowering into a wooden tub… his pleasured sigh at the heat of the water… his bronzed back shining in the firelight. “Yes,” she breathed. “And then you can soak while I hang the stew pot over the fire, and I’ll tell you about the argument I had with the miller, who didn’t give me enough flour because his scale was weighted.”

McKenna laughed softly while his fingertip skimmed lightly along her throat. “The cheat,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll speak with him tomorrow — no one tries to fleece my wife and gets away with it. In the meantime, let’s go to bed. I want to hold you all night long.”

The thought of being tucked in a cozy bed with him, their naked bodies entwined, made Aline tremble with longing. “You’ll probably fall asleep as soon as your head touches the pillow,” she said. “Farming is hard work — you’re exhausted.”

“Never too tired to love you.” His arms slid around her, and he hunched over to nuzzle the curve of her cheek. His lips were like hot velvet as he whispered against her skin. “I’m going to kiss you from your head to your toes. And I won’t stop until you’re crying for me, and then I’ll pleasure you until you’re weak from my loving.”

Aline slid her fingers to the hard back of his neck and guided his mouth to hers. His lips covered hers, molding gently until she opened to admit the exquisite probing of his tongue. She wanted the life he had just described… she wanted it infinitely more than the future that awaited her. Yet that life belonged to another woman. The thought of someone else sharing his days and nights, his secrets and dreams, filled her with desperation.

“McKenna,” she moaned, turning her mouth from his, “promise me…”

He held her tight, stroking her back, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “Anything. Anything.”

“If you ever marry someone else, promise that you’ll always love me best.”

“Sweet, selfish darling,” he murmured tenderly. “You’ll have my heart always — you’ve ruined me for life.”

Aline wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you resent me for that?” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.

“I should. If not for you, I might have been content with ordinary things. With an ordinary girl.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, hugging him fiercely.

“Are you?”

“No,” she admitted, and McKenna laughed, tugging her head back to kiss her.

His mouth was firm and demanding, his tongue sliding deep with ruthless sensuousness. As Aline’s knees weakened, she molded herself to him until no inch of space remained between them. McKenna supported her easily, holding her between his thighs, his big hand cradling the back of her neck. The pressure of his lips altered as he licked inside her mouth with an erotic playfulness that drew a ragged sigh from her. Just as she thought she would melt to the floor in a puddle of bliss, Aline was disgruntled as McKenna abruptly took his mouth from hers.

“What is it?” she asked thickly.

McKenna silenced her with a touch of his forefinger on her lips, staring at the doorway of the carriage room with narrowed eyes. “I thought I heard something.”

Aline frowned in sudden worry, watching as he strode swiftly across the flagstones to the arched opening. He gazed from one side of the empty courtyard to the other. Detecting no sign of anyone, he shrugged and returned to Aline.

She slipped her arms around his lean waist. “Kiss me again.”

“Oh no,” he said with a crooked grin. “You’re going back to the house — I can’t work with you here.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she said, her lower lip pushing out mutinously. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Yes, I will.” He glanced down at his own aroused body and then gave her a wry look. “And it’s hard for a man to get his work done when he’s in this condition.”

“I’ll make it all better,” she purred, her hand stealing down to the fascinating bulge of his erection. “Just tell me what to do.”

With a laughing groan, McKenna stole a swift, warm kiss from her lips and pried her away from him. “I’ve already told you what to do — go back to the house.”

“Will you climb up to my room tonight?”

“Maybe.”

She gave him a mock-threatening glare, and McKenna grinned, shaking his head as he returned to the carriage.

Although they were both mindful of the need for caution, they took every opportunity to sneak away together. They met in the woods, or at their place by the river, or at night on her balcony. McKenna steadfastly refused to cross the threshold of Aline’s room, saying that he could not be responsible for his actions, were he to find himself near a bed with her. His self-restraint was far greater than hers, though Aline was well aware of the effort it cost him, and how badly he wanted her. He pleasured her twice again, kissing and holding and caressing her until she was limp with fulfillment. And then late one afternoon, as they lay together by the river, McKenna finally allowed Aline to bring him to release. It would forever be the most erotic experience of her life, with McKenna panting and groaning her name, his flesh stiff and silky hard as it slipped through the ardent grasp of her fingers, his powerful body helpless at her touch. Aline enjoyed his climax more than her own, loving the fact that she could give him the same ecstasy that he had shown to her.

If these were their halcyon days, however, their time was far too short-lived. Aline knew that her love affair with McKenna, such as it was, could never last. All the same, she did not expect it to end so quickly, nor in such a brutal manner.

Her father summoned Aline to his study after supper one evening — something he had never done before. There had never been any reason for the earl to speak either to her or to her sister Livia, privately. Marcus, his son, was the only offspring that the earl gave any attention to… and neither of the girls envied their older brother for that. The earl was especially critical of his heir, demanding perfection at all times, preferring to motivate with fear rather than with praise. And yet for all the harsh treatment Marcus had received, he was essentially a kind and good-natured boy. Aline hoped very much that he wouldn’t turn out to be like their father someday, but there were many years of the earl’s ruthless molding in store for him.