“Have I ever said that?” he asked. “What a dreadful liar I must be.”
“You like quiet ladies,” she said. “With dark hair.”
“Do I?” he said, his hands twining into her hair, his cheek resting against the top of her head. “Or rather, did I? I must have had dreadfully poor taste once upon a time.”
“You disapprove of me,” she said. “You think I do not know how to behave.”
“At the moment, Kate,” he said, “I am very thankful that you do not. You would not be here in my room with me else.”
She raised her head to look up at him. “You will despise me tomorrow,” she said. “You know you will.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, my dear,” he said, “never that. I don’t want to think of tomorrow, Kate. Let us take what tonight offers, shall we?”
She stared into his eyes while his hands stroked gently through her hair. She desperately wanted to understand him. Was this a mood only? His face was without its customary cynicism. His eyes were wide open. And very blue. So familiar. As if she had loved him all her life. And all the time she had with him was one night. Not even that long. Until the ball ended. When that distant music finally stopped, then she must be prepared to leave.
“Yes,” she said. “Tonight I am yours, Harry. Tonight only. Make it good for me. And I will make it good for you. Make love with me.”
“ ‘With me,’ not ‘to me,’ ” he said. “Yes, Kate, even in bed you will not be the docile female, will you? Come, then, make love with me. Let us shed some clothes, shall we?”
He was undressing her even as he spoke, unbuttoning the back of her dress, drawing it free of her shoulders and down her arms, bringing her shift with it.
“Ah,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her bare shoulder and bringing his hands up to cover her warm breasts, “I am glad you do not wear stays and all that other armor that is supposed to make a woman’s body so attractive. You are so soft and feminine, Kate. So very desirable.”
Kate was pulling the shirt from his shoulders and burying her face against him again. “You are so beautiful,” she said.
He laughed softly. “Kate,” he said, pulling loose the sash at her waist so that her dress fell in a heap around her feet, “you are stealing my lines.” He was pulling her shift free of her body.
Her hands went to the buttons of his breeches. He put his hands on her shoulders and took her mouth with his, teasing her lips, nibbling at them, coaxing them open with the tip of his tongue as her fingers undid the buttons one by one and her hands eased the tight breeches down over his lean hips.
“Witch!” he whispered into her mouth.
It was going to be just as wonderful as it had the last time, Kate thought. She could feel heat rising in her body, the pleasurable, unfulfilled aches in her throat and in her breasts, the throbbing between her thighs. And he was beautiful, as Nicholas had been beautiful. They were remarkably similar in physique, in fact. Was that what had attracted her to Sir Harry in the first place? But now was not the time for thinking. Now was the time for feeling, the time for giving pleasure and receiving it in return.
“Come to bed, love,” he said. “I want to touch you all over. In the most secret and intimate places. I want to love you as you have never been loved.”
He freed himself of his breeches and led her to the bed, which had been turned down for the night. Kate lay down on the sheet and reached up her arms for him.
“Do you want the candles out?” he asked. “Would you be more comfortable in darkness?”
She shook her head. “I want to see you,” she said.
He lowered his head and kissed her as he joined her on the bed. He pushed aside the blankets with one hand and one leg. And Kate blanked her mind to everything except that moment and that bed and the man who began to make slow and expert love to her. And it was different from the last time. He did things to her that she had never even dreamed of before, took her to heights of longing she could not have imagined this side of madness and she found her own hands moving over him, seeking out, caressing, teasing by sheer instinct parts of his body that had him moaning, murmuring her name, and whispering endearments.
“Kate, my love,” he said against her mouth finally, “you are very ready, are you not? Beautiful. Beautiful. How could I resist such an invitation? Such a very soft and easy entry you give me, Kate. You see? So much better than the dryness that gives pain.”
Kate gasped. He had slid into her moistness, deep and hard, meeting the throbbing of her need. And she reached blindly for fulfillment, lifting her legs clear of the bed so that she could bring him deeper yet. But when he began to move in her, her frenzy gave place to deep pleasure. Deep physical pleasure. She knew she would be satisfied. She knew he was committed to pleasuring her. And she trusted him utterly. She gave herself unconditionally. She would enjoy the journey with him.
And she caught his rhythm, tilting her pelvis to receive his inward thrusts, relaxing through his withdrawal. And she found herself no longer mindless but fully aware of her surroundings, of herself lying on her back on the bed, opened fully to the man who was loving her, and of him, covering her body with his, his arms pressing firmly against her sides, his hands holding her buttocks, giving and giving of himself so that she would know release before he would allow his own climax. She consciously enjoyed the pressure of his manhood pushing into her and into her and into her, hard and huge, painless against the wetness of her own desire.
And then his hands were on either side of her face and he was looking down into her eyes, his own heavy-lidded, Harry’s eyes, but heavy with passion rather than with boredom. It was Harry who was loving her, she told herself quite deliberately. Sir Harry Tate. Whom she loved. And she was glad.
“Twine your legs around mine, love,” he whispered to her. “And relax for me. I am going to come to you.”
And she did not give a thought to asserting her independence. She obeyed, watching his face as she did so. And her eyes widened as he pushed slowly and deeply against her opened and relaxed body until she felt all the remaining tension flow out and a great peace fill her from her toes to the crown of her head.
“Oh!” she said in wonder, still staring into his eyes.
He lowered his head to the hollow between her neck and shoulder and pushed once more into her. Then he sighed and relaxed his full weight onto her body. Kate wrapped her arms around him, laid her cheek against the top of his head, and closed her eyes.
