SILK AND SECRETS (35 page)

She had wanted to please him. Instead he was pleasing her and she was helpless to reciprocate, too dazed, too bewitched, to do anything but stifle her cry against his shoulder as her body closed around his hand with long, voluptuous contractions. His strength was the only constant in a dissolving world.

It took time for her trembling limbs to steady, but when they did, she raised one hand and twined her fingers through his hair, hoping her touch could convey what was beyond the scope of mere words. Ross had always been the most generous of lovers, and that had not changed. She would have fallen in love with him all over again for that generosity, except that she had never fallen out of love, not for a single instant of the last dozen years.

He murmured into her ear, “Sorry, I seem to have gotten rather carried away.”

He wasn’t sorry at all; he sounded thoroughly pleased with himself. She felt an absurd desire to giggle. “I’m not sorry, and I’m the one who needs to be carried away.”

He grinned and made a move to bend over and lift her. “An excellent idea. It’s time to adjourn to the bed.”

“No! Now it’s my turn.” Her strength was returning; not enough to wrestle a lion, perhaps, but enough. She straightened up and went to work on the buttons of his shirt. When they were undone, she tugged his shirttails loose, then pulled the garment off. “The real reason I behaved so badly at Serevan,” she said with a hint of laughter, “was that I wanted to see more of you.”

His hand curved up around her neck so that he could stroke the responsive nape. “Shameless woman.”

“Absolutely.” She skimmed her hands over his bare upper body, enjoying the feel of smooth skin over hard muscle. “I paid for my sins, though, because seeing made me want to touch, but I didn’t dare. For example, I wanted to do this.” Tenderly she pressed her lips to the scar the bullet wound had made below his shoulder. “I was horrified to think how close you had come to being killed.”

Briefly that thought jarred her from the moment, reminding her that once more Ross was on the brink of death. Determinedly she shook the knowledge away. Tonight the shadows of the past had no power; only the present was real.

She laid her open hand on the center of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart was overlaid by warm skin and softly textured hair that tickled her palm, denser than she remembered. “You’ve changed too. When we first married, I thought you were the most splendid creature I had ever seen, and I could not imagine improvement.”

“Have I altered for better or worse?”

She was surprised to hear the question in his voice; he was so patently glorious that it was hard to realize that he might not know it himself. When they met, he had had the grace and supple proportions of youth. Now maturity had added weight and power to his chest and shoulders. Remarkable how much stronger, how much more masculine, a man looked in his thirties than at twenty-one. “Definitely for the better,” she assured him. “It hardly seems fair the way time will often improve a man’s appearance but seldom a woman’s.”

She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue, then nibbled down the length of his throat to the hollow at the base. Now that the urgent edge had been taken off her desire, she was free to luxuriate in the subtle signs of his response, his skin going taut wherever she touched, and his breathing irregular. The musky scent of sex surrounded them as she bent over, taking his nipple between her teeth and teasing it with delicate care. The nub of flesh instantly went rigid and Ross gave a long, shuddering sigh.

Juliet’s patience began eroding and she unfastened the buttons of his trousers, revealing more of the line of tawny hair that arrowed down his muscular midriff. Beguiled, she slid her hand down his abdomen, slipping under the loosened fabric in search of firm masculine flesh.

Unlike their encounter in the sandstorm, this time she did not catch him by surprise and he welcomed the caress, pressing hard into her hand. “I was speaking metaphorically when I referred to the pillar of fire, but it’s literally true as well,” she said with deep satisfaction as she caressed the heated silk-velvet length.

His fingers dug into her shoulder with bruising force and he began shaking all over. “Wait,” he gasped.

She paused a moment and looked up, seeing that his head was thrown back and his torso sheened with perspiration.

“As wonderful as this feels,” he managed to say, “I would rather be inside you.”

Once more he was right. Sexual release was not enough; for emotional fulfillment they needed to be as intimately joined as man and woman could be. She dropped to her knees and peeled off his close-fitting trousers. Because of the desert heat, he was not wearing drawers, so she did not have to remove another layer of fabric to bare his long, powerfully muscled legs. She sat back on her heels and drew admiring hands from his hips to his calves, feeling the flex of tendon and muscle beneath her palms, distracted by the sight of so much lovely male anatomy.

“I’ve always been good at patience, but I believe that I’ve just run out.” Ross leaned over and swept Juliet into his arms, then carried her the three steps to the bed. Deftly he pulled back the upper sheet and deposited her in the middle of the cotton-filled mattress.

Laughing, Juliet reached up and caught his hand. “Remind me of what happens next.”

For a moment his eyes darkened and she knew as clearly as if words had been spoken aloud that he was thinking of the lost years, when rumors of her profligate behavior had drifted back to England. They no longer belonged to each other and no one else; that was one thing that had changed, and for the worse. Over the last dozen years there had been other women, other beds, in his life, and it was her fault. Though she was sure Ross had not been a virgin when they married, she had never doubted that he would be faithful to their wedding vows, for fidelity was the bedrock of his nature. It was also her nature, but, tragically, she had not realized that until too late.

The moment was like a tear in the fabric of their love play; underneath, the dark waters of past and future anguish lent poignance to everything they said and did. Only passion might heal the perilous breach that threatened to open between them. Wanting to remove that darkness from his eyes, with sudden desperation she pulled him down onto the bed. “Now, Ross,” she whispered huskily. “Please.”

Her words shattered the dam of control he had managed to maintain until now. His primal need was a flood that engulfed her, his open mouth meeting hers as his hard thigh spread her legs. As he moved above her, she reached down to guide him. Their bodies came together with absolute sureness, hers rising impatiently to meet him, his moving slowly until he located the right place, the precise angle.

He groaned as he sheathed himself in her slick, heated flesh with one powerful thrust. “It’s been so long, Juliet,” he murmured against her mouth. “A lifetime too long.”

She opened herself gladly, her breath mingling with his, her hips lifting to receive him more deeply. The empty years had lasted forever, yet the exact feel of him was burned into her body and her soul. She reveled in the ancient rhythm of thrust and response, loving the way he filled her, the feel of his weight crushing her into the mattress, the splendid Tightness of their joining. How could she have thought another man could be his equal, even for a moment, even when she had been drowning in hell’s own despair?

She had known she would find emotional satisfaction and physical pleasure in their mating, but she did not expect to find uncontrollable desire rising inside her, not again, not so soon. But her hunger was as undeniable as it was improbable, and passion spiraled higher and higher, a potent vortex that tightened around their joining until she cried out, a long formless sound of need as her muscles convulsed around him. His fiercely driving body paused, suspended at its deepest penetration. Then he surged against her in endless uncontrollable pulsations.

In the exhausted aftermath, she held him close, caressing the long line of his back and buttocks with a languid hand. Neither of them spoke, for words could add nothing to their contentment. When his muscles tautened in prelude to shifting his weight away, she clasped her arms around his waist so that he could not leave her. He settled back with a pleased sigh, then rubbed his cheek against hers and brushed hair from her damp brow, the exhalation of his tranquil breath a caress against her temple.

Now that Juliet had time for stillness, she knew with deep humility that she had given him a different, and more valuable, gift than simple pleasure. For a man’s wife to leave must be a massive blow to his masculinity, no matter how strong his confidence and no matter what the woman’s reasons. And she had given Ross precious few reasons; certainly not the most compelling one. But if he had ever doubted his ability to satisfy her, he could not do so now.

Experimentally she contracted her internal muscles where they were still joined, and was delighted to feel him begin to firm inside her. God willing, this would not be the only night they would have, but come what may, they would not waste a moment of what time they had left.

As she pressed her lips against his cheek, she uttered a small prayer of thanks. By taking the time to rediscover each other, they had lighted not a small candle that would be quickly extinguished and forgotten, but a bonfire that blazed bright enough to challenge inevitable night.

Ross woke slowly, drifting in the most profound peace he had ever felt in his life. When he married Juliet, he had not properly appreciated peace, for at twenty-one he had never known spiritual devastation; that he had discovered after she had left him. The pain of the intervening years made him value this present tranquility all the more.

The lamp had burned out but a faint lessening of darkness hinted of coming dawn. He and Juliet lay on their sides, her back curving along his stomach, his arm around her waist and his leg entwined with hers. He was glad the night was cool enough to make this closeness comfortable; in fact, he had pulled a sheet over their damp bodies before they finally went to sleep.

Last night’s astonishing passion had been profoundly satisfying, everything he had remembered and more. Yet if he could stop time and live in one instant forever, he would choose a moment like this, when they were relaxing together in a state of absolute harmony.

He wondered how many more such moments they might have. Though he had described the interview with the amir lightly, at the time he had not believed he would leave the palace alive, except, perhaps, for a short journey to the Black Well, where Ian Cameron had endured a living death before being put out of his misery. Ross was not sure why his captor had let him return to the nayeb’s house, but suspected that Nasrullah enjoyed playing with him, offering hope only so that it could be jerked away.

He supposed that in one sense, after last night he could die happy, for he and Juliet had finally found their way back to each other. But he didn’t want to die; he wanted to live, to return to England with his wife so they could raise children and start an institute where scholars and adventurers from many lands could meet and learn from each other. But most of all, where he and Juliet could simply
be,
enjoying every precious day together.

Soon they must apply themselves to the prospects of escape, but for the moment he was content to savor the fact that Juliet was once more in his arms, his wife in fact as well as in law. It would take more than one night to slake his desire for her; he doubted that a lifetime would be enough. If the dozen years of separation had taught him anything worth knowing, it was to appreciate the rare passion between them.

She exhaled, more asleep than awake, and nestled closer against him. His body reacted with immediate interest. He had always enjoyed the languid lovemaking of the morning; it was the only activity he had any enthusiasm for before breakfast.

No nightgown could ever be as seductive as Juliet’s bare, satin-smooth skin. He cupped her breast in his hand and stroked the nipple with his thumb, enjoying the way the texture changed from suede-soft to pebble-hard under the gentle friction.

Almost purring, Juliet mischievously rubbed her shapely backside against his groin. Taking that as encouragement, he nuzzled through her thick hair and kissed the tender skin below her ear while he caressed all the lovely curves and hollows he could reach, moving ever lower. When his fingers slid through the soft curling hair to the sensitive hidden flesh below, she inhaled sharply, her hot, liquid response making it clear that she was now quite awake enough.

Since he was feeling lazy, he decided the position they were in was just fine. Guessing his intentions, Juliet raised her upper leg and he slid into her welcoming body. The night before, she had been surprisingly tight, almost virginal, but she had adjusted quickly. Now she gave a delighted sigh and rotated her hips, pivoting around him in a thoroughly inflammatory way.

An advantage of lying folded together in this particular fashion was that he could continue to touch her intimately, ensuring that her response kept pace with his own. And when, as soon happened, she began twisting convulsively, he held her tightly to prevent them from separating as he culminated himself.

All of her tautness vanished and she melted back against him, as boneless as a pillow, but far more pleasant to hold. He whispered in her ear, “That was the finest way imaginable of preparing to meet the day.”

Her gray eyes fluttered open and she asked with mock innocence, “Did something happen and I missed it?”

They were still joined together, so he arched his pelvis against her. “Does this refresh your memory?”

Her eyes widened. “So it does.” Chuckling, she rolled onto her back and drew his head down to rest on her breast. “In some ways this reminds me of our wedding night.”

“More like the morning after,” he interjected as he relaxed. She made a superlative pillow.

“That’s true, the morning after was much like this. I hadn’t known it was possible to make love in such a position. Of course,” she added with a smile, “at the time I was quite vague even on the basics.”