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She gave a little whimper of distress and jerked back.
"Matthew, don't."
He looked up. Was she going to ask him to stop?
No. The flush in her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, were more eloquent than words. Her desire for him was as deep as his was for her.
She tried to smile. "I'm not... I just can't..."
Sweet heaven. She was embarrassed!
The realization made his throat tighten. He was no stranger to displays of modesty in the boudoir. There were some women who thought a bit of maidenly coyness heightened a man's pleasure and perhaps it did for some, but he had never been much affected by pretense.
But this was no pretense.
Kathryn was blushing from head to toe, as if no man had ever looked his fill before. As if no man had ever... had ever...
Nay, it was impossible. She had told him that the women of her time were not shy about taking pleasure. She would surely have been with other men...
The thought of her with anyone else was like a knife, driving into his gut.
But it didn't matter. Tonight, he would erase the memories of any other man. He would burn himself not just into her flesh but into her heart and soul. After tonight, she would never look at another man, never want another man...
His blood turned cold.
Dear God, what a son of a bitch he was!
He had no right to take Kathryn for his own. He was not a man, he was a... a thing. He was a creature without life or substance, existing on the icy fringes of a dark and ugly world that she could never comprehend.
It took all his strength to do what had to be done, but he did it, pushed her from him and rose to his feet.
"Get your clothes on," he said in a gruff whisper.
"What?"
"I said—"
"I heard what you said, Matthew. But... but why?"
Her voice was tremulous. He looked at her, seeing the mingled confusion and hurt in her eyes. Pain shot through his heart and he turned away.
"Just do it, Kathryn!"
"Matthew." The light touch of her hand on his shoulder was like flame. "I—I didn't mean... I wasn't asking you to—to stop, I was just—it embarrassed me to have you lo-..."
He swung around and caught her by the shoulders.
"Don't you understand? We can't do this."
She was looking at him as if he'd lost his mind and maybe he had, for a little while anyway, but he'd regained it now and nothing she said or did would change it.
"This is wrong, Kathryn."
"Who says so?"
"I do," he growled. He bent down, grabbed for his discarded clothing. "Dammit," he said, as he straightened up, "I should never have—"
"Shut up, Matthew."
