Heartstrings (33 page)

His warm breath skimmed across her belly. Staring down at him, Theodosia saw that his thick charcoal hair streamed over her white hips and upper thighs, and the sight struck her as one of the most sensual things she’d ever seen. Her breath came in shallow pants, her body trembled, all in silent supplication for Roman to appease her.

In answer, Roman edged down lower. His hands at the backs of her thighs, he lifted her legs so that her knees touched the sides of his head.

Theodosia gasped with sharp pleasure when she felt him lay his tongue flat against the pulsing entry to her body.
Roman. Roman.
His name sang through her veins like a fluid song, somehow increasing the bliss that rose steadily inside her.

Before she even thought to do so, she raised her legs toward her chest, thus assisting Roman in his efforts to open her completely. Stretching out her arms between the V of her thighs, she took his powerful shoulders into her hands, unaware that her nails scored his back.

For a moment, Roman could only stare at her legs, which lay neatly over her chest. Her agility was not only astonishing, it provided him with unhindered access to her female sweetness.

Her position and the impetus of passion behind it made him even more determined to take her to the highest pinnacle of ecstasy. He swept his tongue upward, spreading her slick inner folds with motions that were gentle yet demanding at once.

The feel of her…taste…the scent of her…

Everything about her was exquisite.

Dear God, how he wanted to please this beautiful woman! And as he pondered his desire to sire her pleasure, he realized her fulfillment was more important to him than his own release.

That end in mind, he flicked his tongue over the tiny swell hidden within her woman’s flesh. Within seconds, he sensed the early flutters of her climax, and he watched as her bliss swept over her face.

It seemed to Theodosia that the pleasure had no end. Even when the ecstasy crested, it continued for long moments that had her writhing wildly beneath Roman’s masterful touch.

Finally, it began to ebb gently away, leaving Theodosia in a state of complete and perfect contentment.

“Thank you, Roman,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she looked down at him and smiled.

He laid his head on her thigh and reached up to caress her breast. Only when he saw that her breathing had returned to normal did he speak. “It didn’t hurt when you stretched your legs up like that?” he asked, curious as hell as to how she could have done such a thing without the slightest show of pain.

“Yoga,” she answered dreamily. “It’s Hindu theistic philosophy. A system of exercises, if you will, for attaining bodily and mental control and wellbeing. There is a lot of stretching involved, and over the years, I have become quite agile.”

Roman wasn’t quite sure what Hindu exercises were, but he decided the Hindus probably had as much fun making love as the Tibetans.

“I scratched you,” Theodosia said, noticing the long red marks on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He moved to lie beside her, then took her into his arms.

His sex felt like fire on her skin, making her realize that although
she
had found fulfillment,
he
had not. “You remain in a thoroughly aroused state, Roman.”

He held his breath, wondering if she planned to do something about his problem.

But in the next instant he dismissed the idea. He suspected she would comply if he asked, but every instinct he possessed warned that she wasn’t ready for anything more tonight.

He planted a small kiss on her forehead. “Being in this state is nothing new to me, Theodosia.”
Especially since I met you,
he added silently.

“But I could—although I am not certain how—perhaps if you showed me—”

“No.” He held her more tightly, pondering her sweet proposal and the generosity behind it. The other women he’d known in his life had always demanded and taken from him. They’d never given back.

Theodosia was the first who had ever even offered.

He kissed her forehead again.

At his tender gesture, her affection for him rose. Again, she thought about how she longed for him to take her full circle. For him to make true love to her. Their union would be glorious, she knew.

She closed her eyes tightly, frustration twisting inside her. Roman could not be her lover. He could be her friend and nothing more.

And if she continued to forget that fact, she would never see Lillian holding a child.

Struggling to subdue the sadness that suddenly darkened her mood, she opened her eyes. “Roman, when we were in the meadow,” she whispered, “I asked if you’d ever had a friend. You failed to answer me.”

He suspected she was doing that psychology thing on him again and waited to feel irritated.

No irritation came to him. Instead, he knew a genuine desire to be as honest with her as she had been with him.

“No, Theodosia,” he murmured, drawing his fingers up and down her arm. “I’ve known a lot of people, but I’ve never stayed in any one place long enough to make a real friend. What about you?”

She kneaded the muscle beneath his nipple and continued to struggle with frustration and melancholy. “Like you, I am acquainted with a great many people. I study with them. I hold discussions with them. Until I met you, I considered them friends. I understand now, however, that I erred in my judgment. A friend is a favored companion, and although I enjoyed the company of the people I know in Boston, I enjoy yours ever so much more. I like being with you.”

Her admission made him feel beyond wonderful.

“Roman?” She buried her face in the thick black satin of his hair. “Would you consider… What I mean to say is that—” She paused for a moment, dwelling on her special feelings for him. “I think of you as a friend. And I would like to be your friend as well. A friendship usually exists without verbal proclamation, but—well, taking into account your negative feelings toward women, I feel the need to verify the actuality of such an affectionate association.”

He couldn’t answer and feigned sleep.

Disbelief pumped through him as he lay there with his eyes closed.

The first real friend he’d ever had was a woman.

W
hile driving the wagon out
of the town of Red Wolf, Theodosia skimmed Melvin Priestly’s letter once more:

Miss Worth,

Please forgive me for the inconvenience I have caused, but I will be unable to meet you for breakfast this morning. Moreover, I fear I must withdraw my application for the position of siring the child.

Sincerely,

Melvin Priestly

Her brow furrowed in consternation. “I cannot imagine why Melvin changed his mind,” she said to Roman’s back. “He gave no reason whatsoever in his note.”

Roman rode ahead, glad she couldn’t see his smile. “How’s your new horse?”

Theodosia glanced at the small horse she’d purchased to replace the one Mamante had taken. “Fine,” she replied absently, still pondering the oddness of Melvin’s sudden decision.

Another part of her, however, some deep place within her breast, felt relieved that Melvin hadn’t shown up. She told herself that her relief stemmed from the fact that she was not yet ready to submit to being bedded. That she needed a bit more time to dwell on the things she would be doing with the man who mirrored Upton in every way.

But that same deep place within her breast also sheltered the truth. Her feelings for Roman had a great deal to do with her reluctance to lie with another man, and although she knew she would eventually go through with her original plans when she found a replica of Upton, she knew also that it would be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

“Roman, what do you suppose happened to Melvin?’’ she made herself ask.

Roman’s grin grew as he wondered if anyone in Red Wolf had found Melvin Priestly yet. Having found Melvin before the man reached the hotel, he’d forced him to pen the note of cancellation to Theodosia and had then bound, gagged, and stuffed him into a shed behind the schoolhouse.

“Roman?”

“What? Oh. Uh, he probably just got tied up. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it to Enchanted Hill by tonight. There are a lot of men there.”

He grinned again. Enchanted Hill had its share of men, all right, but most of them were uneducated farmers who ventured into town only when they needed supplies. Roman had met most of the townsmen and knew that in one way or another none would satisfy Theodosia’s requirements.

And the schoolteacher was an elderly woman for whom he’d once built a desk.

“You’ll get to see Enchanted Hill when we get to the town, Theodosia,” he called. Slowing his stallion, he waited for her to catch up with him. “Legend has it that the hill has the power to grant wishes.”

She gazed up at him, thinking his eyes much bluer than the sky. “I have told you before what I think about wishing.”

He stopped Secret abruptly, deciding there was no time like now to change a bit of Theodosia’s thinking. “Are you in a real hurry to get to Enchanted Hill? I mean, is it all right if we get there sometime tonight instead of this afternoon? Today’s Sunday, anyway, so you can’t get those fliers of yours printed. The newspaper office’ll be closed.”

She brought the wagon to a halt. “Why would you delay our arrival?”

He didn’t answer, but the telltale twinkle of mischief she saw in his eyes fairly blinded her.

H
olding on to the tree
trunk, Theodosia swallowed the last of her raisin sandwich and looked down to watch her bare feet swing through the air. The ground lay at least twenty feet below. She’d never been in a tree before, and she’d certainly never been in a tree dressed in only her chemise and petticoats.

She smiled, thinking of how she’d gotten up in the tree. Like a big male gorilla, Roman had had her hang on to his back while he’d scaled the tree. He’d brought John the Baptist’s cage up into the tree as well, claiming the bird needed to get back into his natural habitat every now and then.

The man was certainly in a silly mood today. “Having fun?” His arms stretched out to his sides for balance, Roman walked the length of the thick oak limb upon which Theodosia sat, then returned to her.

She cringed as he dodged a thin branch that the wind blew toward his face. “I am not convinced that
fun
is quite the word that describes what I am feeling at this moment, Roman. But I will say that sitting on a tree limb while feasting upon raisin sandwiches is undoubtedly the
oddest
experience I have ever had. What possessed you to suggest we do such a bizarre thing?”

John the Baptist pecked at a few leaves that brushed the side of his cage. “You look like a short statue, so get out,” he said, then squawked loudly. “What possessed you to suggest we do such a bizarre thing?”

With the greatest of grace, Roman sat down beside Theodosia and tickled the bottom of her foot with his toes. “I used to do this all the time when I was a kid. Up in a tree is the best place to hide from people you don’t want to find you.”

“I see.” She picked a leaf from a slender branch and twirled its stem between her fingers. “And the raisin sandwiches you took with you, they strike me as a lonely food. Something one would eat only in solitude. Did you eat them often?”

“You’re hinting, aren’t you, Theodosia?”

“Would you rather I be frank?”

“I knew a Frank once, and I didn’t like him much. No, I’d rather you be Theodosia.”

She watched him slap his leg as he laughed at his own joke. Biting her bottom lip, she tried to maintain what little composure could be had while sitting in a tree dressed in her underthings. After all,
someone
had to keep foolishness in check.

A second later, she realized that that
someone
was not her. She burst into laughter, laughter that gradually tapered into giggles, which finally became a soft smile.

Roman could not stop staring at her. He’d always thought her beautiful, but her laughter enhanced her beauty to such a degree that she seemed almost unreal. As if she’d come from a dream, or a wish. But she wasn’t a fantasy, and to reassure himself of that fact he reached for her hand and felt her warmth permeate his senses. “You’re enjoying being up in this tree, huh?”

“Strange though it is to me, yes.” Her smile widening, she reached out and drew her finger across his bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you would tell me who it was you were hiding from when you climbed into trees, would you, Roman?” she asked, her voice as soft as the rustling of the tree branches.