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“When you—” she blushed, “caressed me like that, it was unbearable. Not painful, just unbearable.” She inclined her head in quizzical apology. “What I really wanted was to beg you to stop—and, at the same time, never to stop. Does that make any sense?”
Pierce wanted her so much at that moment he thought he’d die. Closing his eyes, he fought for the iron control that disintegrated more with each heartbeat.
“Please,” she murmured, “don’t be angry. I’ve just never—”
The rest of Daphne’s apology was swallowed by Pierce’s kiss. Fervently, he devoured her, his mouth ravaging hers, his hands molding her breasts in shuddering, relentless possession.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he demanded, rolling her to her back. “Do you, my innocent snow flame?”
“I know what you do to me,” she answered with that artless naiveté that tore at his heart. “Is it the same?”
Pierce stared down at her, taking in the soft flush of her cheeks, the perfect contour of her naked breasts bared for his eyes alone. “Somewhat,” he managed, tangling his fingers in her disheveled tawny mane. “Only I know where this can lead. You don’t.”
Her smile was wise and thoroughly female. “I know exactly where this can lead.”
Despite the painful throbbing in his loins, Pierce had to grin at the conviction of her tone. “Really? Where?”
“That depends on who you ask. Mama would say ‘to a woman’s performance of her duty in the marriage bed.’ Given the circumstances, the vicar would say ‘to sin.’ ”
Pierce chuckled. “And what would you say?”
The trust in Daphne’s eyes was the most potent aphrodisiac Pierce had ever known. “With you? To heaven.”
Sucking in his breath, Pierce went rigid, fighting to calm the screaming urgency of his need. “Keep talking like that, looking at me like that, and we’ll experience heaven far sooner than I’d planned.”
“What’s just happened is already a miracle to me,” Daphne said, her tone laced with wonder. “It’s the first time I’ve been touched with gentleness and joy, rather than with brutality.”
“Marry me, Daphne.”
The words were out before Pierce realized he’d uttered them, yet he wouldn’t have called them back if he could.
“What did you say?” Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“I asked you to marry me.” Tenderly, he eased her bodice back into place, stating without words that his proposal was not spawned by the ardor of the past few moments.
“Marry you,” she repeated softly, tasting each word as she voiced it. Myriad emotions flashed across her face in rapid succession: surprise, quizzical uncertainty, veiled speculation, a touch of confusion, a flicker of hope. “Why?” she whispered at last.
“Many reasons.”
“But are they the right ones?” Daphne struggled to sit up, simultaneously brushing leaves from her hair. “We’ve know each other less than a fortnight.”
“We’ve known each other from the instant we met,” Pierce countered. “As for the rightness of my reasons, is it right that I want to keep you safe? To see you smile? To give you things you can never have at Tragmore, wrench you from things you can otherwise never escape?”
“And what will I give you in return?”
Pierce leaned forward, reaching around to fasten her buttons. “You,” he said huskily, brushing her lips with his. “Your magnificent spirit, which I have yet to free.”
Daphne’s breath broke on a shiver. “Only my spirit?”
His fingers paused, feathered over her bare shoulder. “No. Not only your spirit. All of you. Your fire, your innocence, your passion.”
A soft moan escaped Daphne’s lips. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t think clearly when you say such things.”
“You don’t have to think. You have only to say yes.”
