River Of Fire (44 page)

"Good," she said huskily. "I'll join you in the studio."

They left the drawing room a demure yard apart, though anyone watching would guess what they were about to do. The message was in her glowing eyes and unbound hair, and surely on his own face as well. Luckily, no one saw them. He went directly to the studio. There he took the knee rug from the sofa and spread it on the carpet by the fireplace. He also built up the fire, since the air would be cool on bare skin, and he intended to see every glorious inch of her.

By the time he had removed boots, coat, and cravat,she had arrived. He met her in the middle of the room and swept her into another drugging kiss.

She pulled up his shirt and laid her hands on his bare ribs. Her palms were cool against his fevered flesh. "I've wanted this so much," she breathed.

"So have I. Dear God, so have I." He undid the small buttons of her bodice with impatient clumsiness. The upper part of the garment fell away, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts. The little witch had removed her undergarments so that she wore nothing under the gown. Her audacity was shockingly erotic. He knelt to take one dusky nipple in his mouth. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around his head. Her scent was ripe roses, like full-blown blossoms baking in the sun.

As he suckled her nipples to vibrant tautness, he raised her hem and caressed her bare leg. She exhaled rapturously when his hand moved from her firm calf to the supple skin behind her knee. He stroked higher, gliding over the satiny flesh of her inner thighs.

He had meant only to tease, to hint of what was to come. Then his fingertips brushed the damp warmth between her legs and he was lost. He slid his fingers possessively into the silky curls, searching for the most sensitive places in the secret labyrinth of folds.

She gasped, "Oh, yes, yes," her body swaying.

He got to his feet and tugged off her gown while she watched him with dazed, passion-darkened eyes.

When he straightened, she said huskily, "Let me see you."

He complied, yanking his clothing so roughly that two buttons popped off and bounced across the floor. Her ardent gaze made him feel like the irresistible dream lover of her painting.

She said with a touch of laughter, "You're a magnificent nude. I'm torn between drawing you and kissing you."

"Drawing can wait." He swooped her up in his arms for the sheer joy of holding her. Her hair fell over his arm, sweeping almost to his knees in a tantalizing cascade. He nuzzled his face into the angle between her throat and shoulder. "We have better things to do."

She took advantage of his closeness to nibble provocatively on his ear. He groaned, feeling as if every nerve ending in his body were on fire. He went down on one knee and laid her on the yielding pallet before the fire. She was flame and ivory, a feast for all the senses. He stretched out beside her, raining hot kisses over her throat and breasts and belly as once more he caressed her intimately.

She opened to him, arching her back as her slim frame trembled helplessly. "
Now
, Kenneth."

Her questing hand found his rigid, pulsing shaft and clasped tight, the ball of her thumb stroking the acutely sensitive flesh. His hips heaved uncontrollably.

Beyond thought, he rolled between her legs and buried himself in the hot silk of her body. He was lost, lost, in a savage rhythm of possession and surrender. She met and matched him, thrusting and clashing as frantically as he. They were carried helplessly in the river of fire until they reached a shattering climax that fused them, for an instant, into one spirit and one flesh.

Consciousness returned in fragments as the convulsive shudders faded away. They collapsed together in an exhausted tangle of limbs. As he gulped for breath, he shifted to his side and tucked her against him. She seemed too small, too fragile for the fury of passion she carried within her. Yet his body was still shaking from the force of their mating.

The only sounds were the ticking of the clock, the faint crackle of burning coals, and the harshness of their labored breathing. He slid his fingers into the damp auburn cloud of her hair. Lilith. Ginger. Rebecca. She was a collection of paradoxes, both kind and fierce, sharp and tender.

He hoped to God that when the right time came she would have him, because he doubted he would have the strength to let her go.

Rebecca dozed a little, cradled spoon-style against Kenneth's powerful body. Impossible to imagine any greater contentment. But time was passing. When she felt his weight shift, she murmured, "Must we really go to the ball?"

"I'm afraid so." Kenneth lazily stroked from her shoulder to her hip. "I think that Strathmore is the man who arranged for the Wilding jewelry to be returned. I'd like to say thank you, even if it has to be oblique."

"A good reason to go." She rolled onto her back to admire him. Her corsair. Everything Lavinia had seen in the painting, and so much more. "For a soldier, you don't have many scars."

"Luckily, I never received any major wounds. If I had, I wouldn't be here. Serious battlefield injuries almost always result in amputation or death." He smiled. "Except for Michael, who is indestructible."

She sat up and glided a hand along his back. "I can feel faint ridges here. You said once that you had been flogged?"

He nodded. "Very early in my army career. Common soldiers can be flogged for any number of reasons. In my case, it was insolence. I was sentenced to a hundred lashes."

"Were you guilty?"

"Absolutely." He gazed into the fire. "Though I was an enlisted man, I still had the arrogance of my breeding. I let the officer see that I thought he was an ass. He neither knew nor cared that I was the Honorable Kenneth Wilding, heir to Viscount Kimball. I was tied to a pair of crossed pikes while a whip stripped away a fair amount of my back." His expression turned thoughtful. "I'll have to sketch that for George Hampton's series. A drummer does the flogging, you know. They have very strong arms. The other drummers mark time, one beat for every stroke of the lash."

She winced at the vivid picture he had conjured up. "You could have been killed."

"Not at all. The regimental surgeon stands by to stop the flogging if the soldier appears to be in dire straits," he said dryly. "When the poor devil has recovered sufficiently, the rest of the strokes are administered."

"That's
barbaric
."

"Perhaps, but effective." He glanced at her with a faint smile. "I learned that being nobly born counted for nothing when I stepped outside my place in society. It was the first step toward becoming a decent soldier."

She studied the rugged planes of his face, thinking that it was this breadth of experience that made him different from any man she had ever known. He had lived with privilege, and with harsh repression. With brutality and danger, and with a deep appreciation of beauty. Such contrasts might make him a great artist. They had also made him a matchless lover; she did not need wide experience to know that. "When you became an officer, did you order floggings yourself?"

"When necessary. If one is dealing with hard men, sometimes hard measures are required." He got lithely to his feet. "Time to return to the mundane world, Ginger."

More interested in his naked body than his words, she took a tablet and charcoal from a nearby table and began to sketch. "If you think that is too dramatic, wait till I portray you as Hercules. Your proportions and muscle definition are superb. I'll ask Uncle George if he would like me to do a series of engravings of tasteful, classical male nudes."

Seeing her sketchbook, he began to stalk toward her menacingly. "Do that and Lilith will become the centerpiece of next year's exhibition."

"No gentleman would show that picture," she said loftily.

"Who said anything about a gentleman? You wanted a pirate, and that's what you've got. A dangerous corsair who lives to assault innocent maidens."

She chuckled. "Then I should be safe."

"No one is safe from a corsair." He suddenly dived at her.

She gave a small shriek and tried unsuccessfully to escape. He tossed the drawing materials aside and wrestled her down to the blanket, kissing every giggling inch of her.

 "No one is safe from Lilith, either," she panted as she fought back, nipping his shoulder and touching him in the ways she had learned drove him mad.

She'd learned her lessons well. He groaned and pinned her wrists to the blanket. Then he spread her legs with his knees and impaled her with one powerful thrust. . .

"They stared into each other's eyes, both of them laughing. Her heart constricted. She loved seeing him so happy. She had not known that playfulness could exist side by side with desire.

As he began moving inside her with provocative slowness, she uttered a silent wish that they could stay like this forever, safe from the harsh demands of the world.

Yet even as she fell tumbling into rapture, she knew with a chilly, touch of premonition that her wish would not come true.

Despite their amorous encounter, Kenneth and Rebecca arrived at the ball at a reasonable hour. He was amused by her demure expression as they greeted their hosts. Anyone who didn't know her might think she was a meek creature without an opinion to call her own. He knew better.

As they walked toward the ballroom, she glanced up and their gazes met. He felt a wondrous sense of closeness, as if they were inside each other's skin.

She gave him a teasing smile. "What are you thinking?"

Taking advantage of the noise to speak without being overheard, he said softly, "That you transformed yourself from a naked demoness to an elegant lady with remarkable speed. That I would like to take you into an empty room and ravish you. And that I would dearly love to spend a whole night with you."

Her cheeks pinkened charmingly. "Will you act on your thoughts?"

"Alas, I shall have to settle for dancing with you several more times than is proper." The music was striking up for a waltz, so he led her onto the floor. He supposed that if he couldn't ravish her, a waltz was the next best thing.

When the music ended, they drifted around the ballroom greeting new friends. Rebecca was far more at ease than at her first ball and her dances were spoken for quickly. On the previous occasion, that had happened because Michael had asked his friends to make sure she was not ostracized. This time, men came to her because they wanted to.