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He spun away from her, threw the bolt and closed the curtains to the courtyard. His blood thrummed hotly through his veins. He wanted things right for her. He found a match and lit the lamp. Then he worked at getting his boots off.
“Oh, do we need the light?” Her voice had a slight tremor.
“How else can I see you?”
“You want to see me?” she squeaked.
He dropped a boot to the floor, and she jumped.
He’d half expected her to shed her dress, let down her hair and climb into bed, but Anna was an innocent. She stood in the middle of the room, looking pointedly away from the bed and rubbing her arm.
He caught her hand and pulled her against his chest. “I want to see your magnificent hair.” He tilted up her chin. “I want to look into your beautiful eyes. And how can I kiss each freckle on your nose if I can’t see them?”
“I don’t expect you to kiss my freckles,” she said sounding a little more normal and skeptical like his Anna.
He caught her face in his hands and looked down into her eyes. “And here I was hoping for some strategically placed ones.”
Her eyes widened, and she turned bright red.
If he played this right, he’d have her inventing freckles to kiss. He wanted her to enjoy the experience as much as possible. He never wanted her to look back and think she might have enjoyed it more with Rafe.
A shudder of concern snaked through him, tempering the burning need and turning it to a softer thing. A part of him that was more concerned with her pleasure than his own. Odd. This need to take care of her, to put her needs first, must be what love was.
He kissed the end of her nose. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Why wouldn’t I want to see you? But if you don’t want to look at me, you’ll just have to close your eyes.”
He kissed her long and slow and backed her toward the bed.
Her gasp and clutching at his arms signified when they’d reached it. He kissed her until she went soft against him.
Then he eased back. “Okay, don’t panic. I’m going to take off my other boot.”
“You’ll have to teach me what to do,” she murmured.
“It’s a mutual thing, Anna.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’ll have to teach me what you like.” He wrestled off his second boot.
She flushed again. “I feel like I should be doing something.”
A wave of tenderness swept through him. He guided her to sit on the bed. “Yep. Letting down your hair while I take off your shoes.”
He dropped to his knees and reached for her laces.
She put her trembling hands in her lap and wrung them together. “And then we get undressed?”
Always the questions. “Not until you’re ready.” He tugged at the knots and leaned forward to kiss her hand. “But I’d very much like to lie down with you.”
The first laces undone, he stuck his finger in, tugging them loose, and then slipped off her boot.
He gave her an escape if she wanted it. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want me to leave, I will.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured.
The words were a balm to his soul. Heat pulsed through his veins; yet he knew he had to keep his lust lassoed until she was ready. But there was more than desire. There was more than need. There was a rightness to this bigger than himself as if he’d somehow known when he first saw her photograph. He didn’t just want to make love to her. He wanted to hold her through the night and to wake up with her at his side in the morning.
She threaded her fingers in his hair, and he turned and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist.
Her stiff intake of breath let him know she liked it. He didn’t know how long he could manage soft and tender, but for her he’d try.
“When will I know if I’m ready?”
“We’ll figure it out, baby.”
Chapter Eighteen
The calf refused to cross the water. He stood on the far side and bawled. All the men tried to coax him across. Finally I climbed off my horse, picked up the calf and carried him to the other side. However, in crossing the river the fool animal was either scared witless or enjoyed the water because the minute I set him down on the bank, he ran back across to where he started and commenced bawling again.
Anna shook with need as Daniel stretched out on his side and pulled her down beside him. He was not as urgent as he’d been out in the courtyard, or even last night, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was doing something wrong. That she’d done something to cool his ardor. But at the same time she was desperate to feel more. She wanted to run her hands over every part of him, but with his withdrawal she was afraid to. She didn’t know exactly how this should go, and she didn’t want him to think her too bold or too Irish or too eager.
But she wanted him with a power that made her shake. While he was gone during the day, she’d been counting the seconds until he returned. The world seemed dim without him there.
Something happened when he was close, as if the air turned to a magic potion she could get drunk upon. She wanted to be closer to him as if somehow she could crawl inside him and become part of him and he part of her. He was the one who had written the letters that made her long to become a wife to a man with such a kind soul, a man who saw beauty and humor in his world. She just wanted to be a part of that. And it was if she’d come home to him.
He caught her hand and put it on his chest. “Do you feel how hard my heart is beating?”
“Mine feels like it is trying to leap out of my chest,” she answered. The steady tattoo under her fingertips excited her even more. “It is like that for you, too?”
“Of course it is.” He stared into her eyes.
She was unable to look away. Parts of her ached for him. What was he waiting for?
He twined a finger in her hair. “Anna, I don’t want to hurt you, so if I am, you must say so.”
“You won’t hurt me.” That much she knew.
She also knew that Daniel was more methodical and reasoned than she was. When they married, he would probably force her to think things out, while she would urge him to act sooner than he would otherwise. It would be a good trade. They would fit together like two puzzle pieces making a better whole.
“I hope not much,” he said before tilting her chin up to kiss her again.
He started slow, his lips just tantalizingly brushing hers, then more until their heavy breaths melded and her body tingled. He had merely been holding her, but he rolled her to her back and slowly slid his hand over her ribs, then over her breast. Explosions went off inside her, and she arched into his hand. He rubbed his fingers across her nipple, and sparks shot from his touch to low within her.
She slid her hands across his back, relishing the solid muscle and wondering if she was evoking any of the same sensations in him that he was coaxing from her.
But she must be. His breathing turned harsh, too. He jerked away and pulled his shirt over his head and slung it across the room. He pushed the buttons of his undergarment through their holes. The lamplight bathed his bronze skin in a soft glow and painted wild shadows on the wall.
“Touch me, Anna. I’m burning for you.”
The invitation bubbled through her. She placed her hand on his chest and began an eager exploration. His skin was hot to the touch, and the pace of his heart was just as fast as earlier. And he felt so good. His skin was taut over hard muscles. His nostrils flared as she touched him boldly, running her hand over his stomach and down to brush the male parts of him before rubbing his thigh and hip.
He groaned and joined their mouths. The kiss was deeper, longer, and her body tingled from head to toe. He eased his knee between her legs. She opened to him, and he settled his hips between her thighs. That hard male part of him nudged her. A shiver of anticipation went down her spine and seemed to land in her secret place.
Her hips rolled in a circle, and she strained to rub against his hardness. She wrapped her legs around his, pushing even closer, toward the explosive need that flooded her with warmth and wanting.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her lips.
She grabbed his hand and put it against her breast.
He laughed low and caressed her flesh until she was nothing but a mass of sensation. She wanted more. Now. What was he waiting for?
“Please, I’m ready,” she mumbled and then moaned.
He unbuttoned her dress and then lifted her skirts, bunching them around her waist. She just wanted out of them. She wanted his skin against hers.
“Damn, you have on a lot of clothes,” he muttered.
“So do you,” she whispered. “Too many.”
His eyes crinkled as he unfastened his trousers and shoved them and his summer-weight underwear off. He guided her up to a sitting position, and for a second all she saw was a flurry of white as he tossed her petticoats and dress over her head. He unhooked her corset, running his fingers over her freed flesh. Her drawers followed and landed on the heap of their clothing.
