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“The cabin is lovely, she said, standing next to her suitcase in the middle of the large open room. The two-story log structure belonged to a friend of Zane’s.
Huge picture windows overlooked the meadow below where a field of wildflowers exploded with vivid color. The fireplace dominated another wall, and a thick imitation bearskin rug was spread across the polished hardwood floor.
“Are you hungry?” Zane asked, after delivering their luggage to the bedroom.
Lesley shook her head, although she’d barely eaten all day. All at once, she realized she was nervous.
“It looks like we might be in for a storm,” Zane commented, walking over to the window and glancing at the sky.
“A storm?” That seemed impossible when only hours earlier there hadn’t been a cloud in sight.
“I’m partial to storms myself,” her husband admitted, staring at the darkening sky. His hands were clenched behind his back.
Lesley remained where she was. A number of times she’d considered the physical aspect of their relationship, but with everything so hectic before the wedding, they’d never discussed it. She wished now that they had; it might have helped diminish her nervousness.
“You like the rain?” she asked.
Zane looked over his shoulder, grinning at her sheepishly. “How soon you forget.”
Lesley blushed. She had forgotten. The first time he’d kissed her had been the night of the storm when she’d gone out to the barn with him to settle the horses. Later, as the thunder had boomed overhead and the lightning blazed across the heavens, she’d made her way downstairs and found him in the library.
“I wanted to make love to you that night,” Zane admitted in words so low, she had to strain to hear him. “I’ve haven’t stopped wanting you.” Slowly he turned to face her.
Lesley moistened her lips.
“I’m not a handsome man.”
She wanted to contradict him, but couldn’t find the strength to do so. Never had she desired a man as much as she did Zane right that moment.
“My body is less than perfect.” He kept his hands behind his back, and his eyes steadfastly held hers.
Lesley’s breathing went shallow, as she started unfastening the buttons to her silk suit. Her movements seemed to mesmerize him into speechlessness. She removed her jacket and blouse, then paused long enough to fold and neatly set them aside.
“Lesley?” Again his voice was a fragile thread of sound.
“I certainly hope you aren’t about to suggest we delay making love,” she said, and reached behind her to fiddle with the skirt zipper. The zipper rasped open in the tense silence that followed.
Zane didn’t answer her question and she glanced up, waiting. He stood frozen in place. It looked almost as if he’d stopped breathing.
Lesley stepped out of her skirt and neatly placed it on the chair with the blouse and jacket. She stood half a room away, wearing her tap pants and bra.
Zane didn’t move. Although the room had darkened with the approach of the storm, he couldn’t conceal the effect she had on him. He made no move toward her, but a wild look filled his eyes. His feet were braced apart and his arms remained behind him. His breathing swelled his chest and he seemed to be taking in deeper and deeper breaths and holding them longer and longer. Although he didn’t move, didn’t speak, she could feel the tension in his body.
“Do you still want me, Zane?” she asked. The role of the temptress was new to her, but she found she enjoyed it.
His eyes drifted shut, and she didn’t know why he was fighting her so hard. His Adam’s apple moved up and down in his throat.
Mumbling something she couldn’t understand, he started to undress. His hands were quick, the action jerky and disconnected in his rush.
“Yes, I want you.” He couldn’t remove his shirt fast enough to suit him. He wadded it up and carelessly tossed it aside. His stomach was flat, smooth and hard, and while she would have taken pleasure appreciating it more, he squatted down to take off his shoes. He unbuckled his belt next, and slipped his pants over his lean hips, revealing the extent of the injuries to his leg.
The scars that mangled his flesh caused her to draw in a deep breath. How he must have suffered. At her soft gasp, Zane glanced her way but didn’t hesitate as he stepped out of his pants.
“I told you what to expect.” He offered neither apology or explanation. He glanced toward the loft where the master bedroom was situated and to the stairway leading to it.
“Not there,” she whispered.
His questioning eyes returned to her.
