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“Thank you.” She said, going back to her mending.
His concern turned her into a cauldron of tattered emotions. He had been doing the most unexpected things lately. Not that the fury from this afternoon had dowsed. That being the worst, mingling her senses even more.
The discomfort inside and the tension his presence drew her to convinced her the time grew late. Late for a retreat, she thought cowardly. Sewing back to the basket, she stood to leave.
“The hour grows late.” He stood immediately for politeness. “Good night.”
He bowed to her in reply, as she passed him towards the door.
In her bedchamber, she dismissed Abigail as soon as the girl finished unbuttoning her dress. The poor lady’s maid seemed exhausted with the rambling around the manor to accompany her.
In front of the mirror with her mended shift, the connecting door opened. She jerked abruptly at it, as Conrad stepped in, attired in his foreign tunic and trousers which rendered him so attractive, she almost forgot herself. A turn to him stonily, trying hard to tamp down his effect on her.
“What now?” When it came to him, her wits vanished with her verbal skills.
His sensuous lopsided smile did not help her composure. “I would say it rather obvious.”
“Ha! Come to slake your lust, haven’t you?” She
said acidly, hands flying to her waist.
“And yours, I dare say.” He strode confident to her, stopping inches from her feet, his spicy scent invading her peace of mind.
She burned. Burned from the afternoon events, burned for this pull he had over her, her feelings scattered all over the place.
“How dare you?” She fumed now. The idea of him and another woman chocked her!
“I am your husband.” His silky statement only superficial. “I have rights.”
“Rights?” Her voice dripping fury. “Who are you to bring up rights?”
He raised one brow, sardonic. “Your husband, to whom you promised an heir.”
“You scoundrel!” She spat livid. “You can go find your mistress!” He had not been able even to keep a mistress before now. His erratic behaviour afforded only passing… diversions, she suspected.
His eyes hardened at this. “I do not have a mistress!” He murmured hotly. “Nor will I ever have one!” He faced her head on as she launched him a suspicious expression.
“You know why?” He continued, lowering his dark eyes to his middle; she followed and blushed crimson at the sight of his erection tenting his loose trousers. “Because I want solely you!”
The evidence of his desire, mingled with her rage and want, heated her to unbearable levels. Blindly, she approached him and punched him on his solid chest. “Damn you!” As if it would relieve her of her pressing emotions.
Delicately, he held her arms, pulling her to him. “I say I want you and you curse me?” His voice husky, seductive. His eyes intent down on hers.
She ogled him, face lifted defiantly. “You are a curse in my life!” She vented openly.
He bent his head, his lips on her slender neck. “Yes. Yes I am.” He murmured against her sensitive skin.
She closed her eyes and sighed, unable to tamp down the fire he stoked in her. He pulled her closer as their bodies touched from chest to toe. He explored the opening of her shift, transforming her in molten lava, his manhood pressed temptingly against her belly.
Capitulation. The unique word possible of being uttered here. She capitulated before the feast of the senses he taunted her with unrestrained. Shame did not even duck its head! The sensations he extricated from her so overwhelming she had no space for shame. She let herself revel on his caress as an undermining laxity dominated her. Unthinkingly, her hands sneaked under his silken tunic to find his muscled chest warm on her palm.
“Aurelia!” He exclaimed. “Yes, touch me, touch all of me!” He nibbled the pulse on her neck. “I need your heavenly callused hands on me.” Next, he plundered her yearning lips and they got lost to reality.
She held him under the tunic and responded fully to his kiss while he pulled her tighter to him. Every time Conrad touched her, he became dumbfounded with her responsiveness, her fire, the way he could imagine sharing his body only with her.
He came up for air, using the break to take out his pyjamas tunic. She looked at him mesmerized. The flames on the fireplace made her loose long rosewood hair shine with fiery streaks. She came back to him, leaning on him, one hand merging in his wavy midnight hair, the other caressing his muscled arm, while her mouth grazed his peppered chest.
He mumbled her name, his hand immersing in her silky hair, pulling her closer for more explorations. This she-wolf of a wife would undo him in no time. But he let her touch him as much as she liked. She did not play shy, she grazed, kissed, caressed, nibbled the whole of his exposed body. He pulled the lace at her neck, causing her shift to fall to her waist, his eyes drinking in her beauty. When her curious hand descended intent down his abdomen, he hauled her in his arms and took her to bed.
