Chapter Thirty-Seven

Flora couldn’t look away. Lawrence’s gaze trapped hers and refused to release her. As he came closer, she lost all willpower, all conscience.

He climbed up and braced himself over her on the wagon seat. “Kiss me, Flora,” he commanded. “I’ve waited far too long.”

“So have I,” she whispered, raising a hand to his face, pushing the damp hair back from his brow.

His lips met hers in a frenzy of pent-up need, and it felt glorious, emancipating. She didn’t want it to stop. Ever. She drank from his lips, like a bee drinking nectar, learning the taste of him, molding her lips to his.

After a long, impassioned tangling of tongues, he dragged his mouth away. Her racing heart scudded to a halt. Why had he broken the kiss?

“I meant to go more slowly,” he said with a frown. “I meant to savor the moment.”

Be damned to that. He needed to take her where she wanted to go before courage failed her.

“No need,” she whispered, looking up at him. She could admit to herself now she had wanted him from the first moment she saw him cheerfully touting his remedies from the stage on Fortuneswell green. But she knew that getting what one wanted wasn’t always for the best.

He mustn’t give her time to think, time to change her mind. She reached up and pulled his head down again, pressing her lips against his until they ached, until he opened his mouth and took possession of her tongue once more, of her lips, overwhelming her every thought and feeling.

When he next raised his head, they were both short of breath. She adored the way his bare chest heaved up and down as he sought for mastery of himself. The look on his face was fierce, unnerving. But exciting, too.

“Inside, I think,” he said briefly, and eased himself away, signaling her to go through the wagon flap.

Once again, she was enclosed by his magical world, the mysterious world of folklore, healing, natural wonders, and arcane symbols. She could not imagine a world further from her own. And now he was working his magic on her.

“You’re smiling,” he said as he followed her inside and knotted the flap behind them. “Does that mean I needn’t feel guilty for making such a sinful bargain with you?”

She hadn’t meant to pander to his pride by smiling, but it was impossible not to do so. Just the lightest touch of his fingers set her nerves buzzing with vitality. And his lips…well, she hadn’t tasted nearly enough of those yet.

She reached for the ribbons of her bonnet, but he prevented her.

“No. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

She waited obediently while he removed her bonnet, but it gave her a chance to feast her eyes on the bronzed skin and honed muscles of his torso. Reaching out, she ran a finger over the dark hair between his pectoral muscles, then across in fascination to one of his brown male nipples, recalling how her touch had inflamed him once before.

His breath hissed between his teeth. “Please don’t distract me while I’m doing this,” he said.

With a little huff of disappointment, she obliged, and closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the sensation of his hands removing her bonnet and pulling the pins from her hair. She felt the long tresses fall about her shoulders, and he let out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Now you are my Madame Julietta again,” he said.

“I think perhaps I’ve always been Madame Julietta,” she replied. “But only on the inside.”

She opened her eyes again and reveled in his joyful expression as he spread her hair over her shoulders, then pulled her forward so he could nestle his cheek against her head. She ran an admiring hand over the bunched muscle of his shoulder, her fingertips grazing the satin skin. His bicep rippled in response and, suddenly, she was pressed hard against his chest.

He let out a low groan. “Flora, your touch ignites me like no other. I just don’t understand it.”

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Hush. Don’t question it. Just feel.”

When had she become such a wanton? More so in the hands of this practiced lover than in Frank’s…but she didn’t want to think of that now.

His lips found hers again, and his tongue flicked and teased, distracting her while he expertly unbuttoned her pelisse and unhooked the front panel of her gown. He pushed both down, then scooped her up, lifting her free of them.

How thrilling to be lifted as if she weighed nothing at all! She clasped her hands behind his neck and looked up into his familiar, much-loved face.

Loved? She swallowed hard. No, this feeling mustn’t be confused with love. She wanted all of the man, yes, but his heart was his own to keep. She had no right to wish for anything more.

As soon as he laid her down on the dark, thickly embroidered cover of his bed, she reached for him, molding the tense muscles of his chest with her hands, examining his naked flanks, his slender waist, and the oh-so-fascinating small buds of his nipples.

Once again, that hissing intake of breath. He liked it! With a growl, he pressed her down and made short work of unlacing her stays. “I’m going to give you a taste of your own medicine now,” he warned, and bent his head to her breast.

Great, glorious Juno! His lips found one nipple beneath the linen of her chemise. She felt his breath heat the sensitive skin, felt the hard threat of his teeth against the budding flesh, followed by a teasing nip that sent a charge of power shafting through her entire body.

She arched her back, then pushed up on her elbows to give him better access. While his mouth expertly elevated one nipple to full, aching rigidity, his hand toyed with the other, pressing it between his fingers while he grasped her breast, gently kneading. A moan of appreciation escaped his lips, and she found she was moaning, too, opening to his touch, shifting up and down on the bed, her whole body attuning itself to his.

And wanting, wanting, wanting…

“Oh Judas. Flora.” He thrust his hips against hers, the taut bulge of his erection against her stomach. He was hard for her already, just as she was soft for him.

“I really had meant to go slowly,” he repeated, lifting his head and mesmerizing her with his fevered gaze. “But you inflame me beyond all bearing. I haven’t been able to— Nobody else lately has managed to— Forgive me. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

She knew exactly what he was saying, but she didn’t want to think about his other lovers. It would be the behavior of a harlot even to consider comparing herself to other women. It was flattering to hear he thought her special, however…whether it was true or not.

“Take your clothes off,” she ordered, desperate to take her mind off the fact that he’d had so many lovers. The thought made her heart twist and threatened to spoil the moment.

“As the lady wishes,” he responded, his mouth quirking upwards.

Fascinated, she watched as he sat back on his heels, unbuttoned his breeches, and pushed them down his hips. As he swung off the bed and stood to step out of them, she gaped at the sight of his arousal—proud, thick, and ready.

Her throat went dry.

“Now you,” he urged, kneeling on the side of the bed and reaching for her.

She undid the drawstring of her chemise, and he peeled it slowly from her, gazing in absorbed delight as her nakedness was revealed.

“Now it’s my turn to smile,” he said, his dark eyes dancing. “You’re not only beautiful on the inside, my beloved Flora, you’re beautiful everywhere.”

Flattery and an incendiary touch. A heady combination. Her body was now completely in thrall to this man, and her heart was at risk of becoming so, too.

He braced himself above her, then bent his head and nuzzled against her neck and took some short, nipping bites.

She bucked in response and twisted her head, offering up more to him. His hand slid over her throat and down her breastbone, found her nipple again, and fondled the erect bud while his mouth sucked at her earlobe, sending shaft after shaft of pleasure spearing through her body.

She squeezed her legs together, to enhance the exquisite sensation which had sprung into being at his touch. He felt the movement, braced himself on one elbow, and pushed his free hand between her legs, twisted it, and pressed up against her body. He found the sensitized nub hidden beneath her feminine folds and manipulated it with his thumb.

Instantly, the sensitivity of her body increased a hundredfold. Every part of her wanted him, every inch of exposed flesh ached for his touch, but even more urgent was her need to feel him inside her, where she knew, instinctively, he belonged.

As his thumb massaged, she let out a series of appreciative little cries. She bucked beneath him, and his erection brushed across her feminine curls, tantalizingly grazing her body. She was wet and more than ready for him, so to give him a nudge, she caught hold of his shaft and ran her hand along its length, slowly stroking the silken hardness.

“I think,” he said, his breath coming in quick, hiccupping bursts, “I now have the shameless Madame Julietta beneath me. The very proper, genteel Miss Flora Hartington has most certainly departed.”

“Temporarily,” agreed Flora, and she could hardly believe the deep, husky sound of her own voice. She tried to push his erection down between her legs, but he eased away and reached into a small box attached to one of the wagon bows. Feverish with need, she groaned with annoyance.

“Patience,” he admonished. “I always use a silk sheath. You’ll enjoy the sensation, I promise.”

She stretched her arms above her head in glorious wantonness and arched her back. She didn’t mind what he did, so long as he did it soon.

Moments later, her prayers were answered. When he pushed against her thighs, she parted her legs so he could lower himself between them.

He paused, the tip of his manhood resting gently against her delicate folds, and said, “Now there’s no need for either of us to wait.”

With a feral grin, he pressed himself slowly, but surely, inside her.

A brief flash of surprise crossed his face, to be replaced immediately by an expression of intense concentration. She anchored her hands into his hair as he began to move.

Each thrust made her cry out her pleasure, and as he picked up speed, he cried out as well. She gazed up at his handsome face as he drove into her, retreated, and surged forward again, each penetration deeper than the last, each punctuated by a shuddering intake of his breath.

His body hit her sensitive spot with every movement, the full, hard length of him invading the secret recesses of her body, being welcomed by her own moist warmth.

Bottles clinked against one another as the wagon rocked with the force of their passion, but the relentless plunging of his body, which sent wave after wave of sensation coursing through her, was still not enough.

She wrapped her legs around his back and urged him deeper, and deeper, until she knew he could fill her no more.

He lost his rhythm then. His head arched back in acute pleasure, his body thrust and withdrew with an awkward judder over which he seemed to have no control.

As he voiced his climax, she found hers, and her body shattered into myriad shards of elemental ecstasy. Her head pulsed with the fury of it, her heart pounded with sensual exhaustion and her legs squeezed together, milking every last drop of pleasure.

Gradually, their breathing slowed, and he allowed his body to rest lightly on hers, covering her female vulnerability with his assertive maleness.

Oh, what a glorious sensation! The pressure of his hard, hot body, the feel of his manhood still pulsing with life inside her, eking every last second of sensation from their joining.

She could lie like this forever. Only— Would it be too sinful to see if they might manage it again?

She watched his adored face as he came to himself again. There was a strange look in his eyes. Not one of possession, or masculine triumph—but not one of affection, either. Was there a shadow of…hurt?

Before she could wonder what might have caused it, he said softly, “Flora, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t a virgin?”