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“Yes.” He had no idea what her complacency was costing her.
“You’re going to cut and stitch while I do whatever I want?”
“You said you wouldn’t hit,” she hastened to remind him.
“We’ve already established what I’m set on doing. What’s up for grabs is whether you plan on joining in.”
Was he questioning her integrity? “I know my duty, Mr. MacIntyre.”
“Asa,” he reminded her.
“Asa,” she dutifully repeated. She crossed her arms over her chest as a compromise between encouragement and obedience. “Could we please get on with this?”
“You in a hurry?”
“I’m scared to death.”
“I can feel you trembling.”
There was a long pause in which he did nothing.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m trying to figure a way to make you less nervous. Any particular worry you’re gnawing on?”
She thought about it. “I don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.”
“Seeing as how I’m a talker, I could probably manage a warning or two.”
Having her inch, Elizabeth decided to go for a mile. “I also don’t like it when you handle me sooo…intimately.”
“That,” he said, a smile in his voice as he brought her breasts back against his chest, “you’re going to have to get used to. Any more questions?”
It was hard to think with the threat of his big body so close to hers. Through the lingering odor of kerosene, she smelled his scent. She wanted to dislike it, but he smelled of soap, fresh air and blackberries.
“Well?” he prompted in the wake of her silence.
“I guess not.”
“No need to sound so discouraged, darlin’. We’re going to do just fine. Put your arms around my neck.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to feel your breasts against me.”
Shock at his bald pronouncement held her frozen for the two seconds he waited before pretending to drop her. Reflexes threw her arms around his neck. She felt his smile against her hair. “That’s the way.”
“I’m not sure my sensibilities can take any more warnings,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Then why don’t you stuff them under the mattress?”
“What?”
“Your sensibilities and all that other starchy stuff Miss Penelope taught you.”
“I can’t.” The words ended on a small squeak as he tossed her again in order to shift his hands to the backs of her thighs.
“Then, darlin’, you’d best get to stitching because the fun’s about to begin. Wrap your legs around my waist.”
She was too smart to ask why this time. She just did as ordered. He took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed. If she thought the humiliation of having him touch her was bad, it was nothing compared to the humiliation of straddling his lap. When he suggested she move to the right, she had no illusions as to why. His manhood pushed heavily against her inner thigh.
“I can’t,” she confessed. “I’m not breaking my promise, I swear. I’m doing my best. I just can’t.”
“Guess that stitchin’ isn’t getting you too far, huh?”
She shook her head. It might have been her imagination, but she thought his lips brushed her hair. “Could we just get this over with?” she asked.
“You always in this much of a rush?”
“Please? I’ll beg if you want. I—”
His finger across her lips cut off the rest of her plea.
She pulled back. “Is that a yes?”
“A man wishes his whole life for a woman to beg for his lovemaking. Guess when she does, the least he could do is honor the request. Lie on the bed, darlin’, while I shuck these clothes.”
For a man about to get his wish, he didn’t sound enthusiastic, but she was too beset by her own problems to care. Nausea rolled in her stomach, her hands shook, and, as she scrambled to do as he asked, she thought she’d further humiliate herself by throwing up. Remembering his earlier explanation of what he preferred, she lay on her back. After careful consideration, she placed her hands at her side. Lying in the dark, she listened to the rustling of his clothes. A soft thunk indicated his belt hitting the floor. She took three deep breaths, swallowed her nerves and said, “I don’t suppose you could remain dressed for this?”
He cursed beneath his breath. The chair legs rocked as he threw something over the back. “I’m willing to forsake a lot of things out of respect for your sensibilities, Elizabeth, but I’ll be damned if I’ll come to my wedding bed dressed for work.”
The disgust in his voice flicked her pride like a whip. “It was only a suggestion.”
The mattress sagged as he knelt on it. Over her. His breath blew across her face as he growled, “Well, it was a damned poor one for a wife to be making.”
The fact that he swore in her presence told her more than she wanted to know about his feelings. His legs slipped between hers. The planes and curves of well honed muscles were rock hard and alien against her softer flesh. With his knee, he pushed first one thigh and then the other to the side. Instinct had her resisting, but his strength brooked no denial. He wasn’t satisfied until she was spread wide, more open and more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life. The feeling was alien, but in the dark of the night, with the heat of his body reaching out to cover her in an intimate blanket, not as terrifying as she’d expected. His breath blew across her cheek. The sheets rustled as his hands shifted near her shoulders. Fear and a foreign sense of anticipation caught her breath in her throat as he slowly lowered the length of his strong body over hers. He was all muscle where she was soft. Rough where she was smooth. And hot. Very, very hot.
