Julianne MacLean (19 page)

But he had tried to convince her that he
could
be faithful. She had seen him weeping over his grandmother’s bed. He had fought this attraction from the very first day, and fought it hard, because he had not wanted to hurt or betray a member of his family.

Perhaps there was more to him than what she
had let herself see. Perhaps she had seen the wrong thing.

“It’s been an enlightening day,” he said.

“Yes, it has.”

He took a step forward and gently covered her cheek with his hand. “Don’t say no, Adele.”

A
n almost tangible, tension-filled need settled in the air between them, as Adele gazed up at Damien’s lips. She wanted him—certainly, her body wanted him—and there was no point denying it.

He cupped her chin in his hand, his brilliant gaze holding her captive, then he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was tentative at first, as if he were testing the waters of her consent. When she parted her lips for him and slid her arms up around his neck, weaving her fingers into the thick hair at his nape, he deepened the kiss.

The sensual pull of his allure was unstoppable, and an aggression Adele had not known she possessed emerged from somewhere deep within her. She took control, pulling his head
down closer and sweeping her tongue into his mouth.

His response was immediate. He gathered her up against him, embracing her with his whole body and backing her up against the tree. He kissed all over her face and down her neck, quickly unbuttoning the top of her high-necked collar and laying openmouth kisses down the front of her throat.

Gooseflesh erupted everywhere as she was overcome by the inconceivable heat of her desires. “Damien,” she whispered.

Before she could contemplate what was happening, she felt herself being swept up into his strong arms, as if she weighed no more than a leaf on a breeze. She clung to his neck as he carried her along the mossy bank of the lake, farther away from the rotunda and into the greenery. He carried her while she kissed him, through a grove of poplars, then bent low to enter the private, quiet shelter of a weeping willow, whose graceful branches touched the ground.

He knelt on one knee and laid her on the soft grass, then came down to lie upon her. Again, she slid her hands around his neck and pulled him closer for what felt like a deep, soul-reaching kiss.

Her body began to burn, and any lingering resistance toward this forbidden pleasure crumbled, for she was no longer bound by her sense of commitment to Harold. She wanted Damien selfishly and wantonly, and she wanted out of the cage.

His lips moved across her cheeks and down
her neck again, and she arched her back on the grass. She slid her hands under his jacket collar and over his shoulders, squirming as she tried to push the jacket off. She wanted to feel his skin.

Responding instantly, he sat back on his heels and ripped the garment off, tossing it to the ground beside them, then he came down upon her again. This time, she welcomed him fully with her body, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

Soon, her skirts and petticoats were up around her waist, and only her drawers and his trousers remained between them. Damien positioned himself between her legs, leaning up on both arms and looking down into her eyes while he thrust his hips against her. The feel of his rock-hard erection through the thick fabric of his trousers inflamed her senses in a way she had never imagined possible.

“Tell me to stop at any time, Adele, and I will. All you have to do is say it.”

She nodded, though she had no intention of stopping him, at least not yet. At the same time, she was glad he had given her the option. She trusted him, at least in this regard. She knew he would not force her to do anything she did not wish to do.

She reached up again and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down for another kiss. Eyes closed and leaning to the side on one elbow, he began to unbutton her bodice. Seconds later he was pressing it open and rubbing his hand over the top of her stiff corset.

“I want to take this off you,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “May I?”

“Please.”

She sat up and scrambled out of her bodice, while he unhooked it in the front. The corset came loose, the cool air touched her skin, hot and damp beneath her light, cotton chemise. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, marveling with wonder at the liberating sensation of being outdoors and able to really breathe.

Damien reached for the bottom of her chemise, and the next thing she knew, she was lifting her arms, while he was pulling it off over her head. Suddenly, she was nude from the waist up. She shivered with an erotic sense of awe. She was nude. Outdoors.

The shocking realization had barely had a chance to set in, when he eased her back down on the grass and hungrily took her breast in his mouth.

Adele’s eyes fell shut and her emotions closed in around the astonishing stimulation of his tongue and teeth, and the deep sound of his labored breathing. She ran her fingers through his thick mane of hair, sighing as he brought a searching hand up the inside of her leg and let it come to rest on the moist, throbbing center between her thighs, on top of her drawers. He applied a pressure with his palm, making tiny little circles. She gasped with a yearning pleasure.

“That feels wonderful,” she whispered breathlessly.

Slowly, he let his hand wander upward, and
with eyes still closed while he kissed her, he untied the ribbon on her drawers with expert fingers. He broke the kiss to whisper hotly in her ear, “May I remove these also?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps she should have been more inquisitive about what, exactly, he planned to do once he had taken them off, but her passions were thinking for her, and she was lost in the moment, drowning in her desires, and she cared nothing for consequences. She wanted only
this
—the pleasure he offered. The pleasure his body promised.

He sat back on his heels again and tugged gently on her drawers. She raised her hips off the ground to assist. A second later, he tossed the drawers aside, then lowered himself upon her again, stroking the outside of her thigh with his warm, tantalizing hand.

His thumb drifted gently over the scar where the bullet had grazed her, and he stopped kissing her briefly to whisper, “I remember this.”

“I remember, too. I remember everything about that day.”

“The pain is gone now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He nodded and kissed her again, sliding his warm hand up under her bare behind, massaging her cool flesh, then his hand came around to the front and moved through the soft curls, into her open womanhood. Her body responded with a reverberating echo of trembling delight.

“Damien, this is wicked,” she whispered, as he massaged the sensitive bud of her desire.

“Tell me to stop, Adele. I will if you wish it.”

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

He held her close, stroking the soft folds of flesh, knowing exactly how to touch her, to ease the stress of her yearnings. Soon, her whole body began to relax under the skill of his hand, and she felt wondrously free and wanton, rotating her hips in circles to match his endless caress, feeling as if she were turning to liquid. Nothing could keep her from enjoying this bliss.

Finally, the last of her inhibitions floated away on the tides of her pleasure, and she slid a hand down into his trousers.

“I want to feel you, too,” she said, letting all her repressed emotions and desires come flooding out. She reached into his pants and touched the soft, silky tip of his arousal with a finger, then dove in deeper to wrap her whole hand around him. Shocked by the size and heat of him, she stroked him as he stroked her, with a rhythm she had come to understand as the foundation of all things sexual.

“This is getting out of hand,” he said into her mouth, between kisses. “I’ve never wanted any woman like I want you now, Adele. You have captured me completely. I want to make love to you. Please, let me. Let me show you more than this.”

It was not like her to act without careful consideration, but she was no longer the old Adele. She now knew the meaning of rashness, of fevered, out-of-control acts of passion. She nodded frantically.

It was all he had been waiting for. She was
dimly aware of his hand quickly working the buttons of his trousers, and the lifting of his hips while he slid them off. Then he was
there
. Between her legs. Pausing. Waiting. As if to make sure she was not going to change her mind.

A breeze blew the willow branches all around them, and the leaves made a hissing sound. Adele opened her eyes to look up at him in the dim, afternoon light. He was staring down at her, almost fearful. Apprehensive. She had never seen him look like that before.

Then he pushed.

The pressure caused some discomfort, but it also caused a need. She pushed back in return, thrusting her hips upward despite the pain of the invasion. A groan escaped her.

He went still, and whispered, “Are you all right?”

She nodded again, reaching around—almost involuntarily—to put her hands on his firm buttocks and pull him in tighter. She thrust upward with all the strength she possessed in her hips and legs, and felt the rupture of her maidenhead. Pain shot through her, but it eased almost instantly as she comprehended his physical presence within her.

He was inside her.
Inside.
He filled her deeply and completely, and she clutched on to the sturdy anchor of his shoulders, biting down on her lower lip as he withdrew and drove in again.

She was slick down there, which eased the pain somewhat and enhanced the pleasure, she
realized, coming to understand what this was about.

Within seconds, the pain was gone entirely, and she was able to lie back and enjoy the feel of him plunging heedlessly in and out of her—over and over until almost without warning, a surge of both desire and fulfillment coursed through her veins, like an electric current through her entire being. Her body pulsed and throbbed, and not understanding what was happening, she arched her back and cried out Damien’s name.

What had just happened? she wondered madly, still arching her back and thinking that lightning had just struck the tree above them, and had sizzled through the ground beneath her.

The pleasure continued to crackle through her body on rapid, repeating waves, until all her energy was sapped, and she collapsed flat on her back. She opened her eyes and realized that Damien had continued his thrusting through all of it, and had only now slowed his pace as she relaxed. He had not stopped to make sure she was still alive, so what just happened must have been normal.

Yes, it must have been, because he looked pleased. “You’re glorious,” he said, then he pushed a few more times, deeper than before, more violently than before, and tossed his head back and cried out, just as she had cried out only seconds before.

His huge, hard body went weak and limp, and he collapsed onto his elbows, then he lowered all his weight on top of her. She touched his
forehead, warm with perspiration, and could feel the tremendous heat of his body emanating from beneath his shirt and wool waistcoat.

“I’m sorry that I still have my clothes on,” he said, his chest heaving, for he was out of breath. “I would like to be naked with you, to feel your skin against my stomach.”

“Oh yes. That sounds wonderful.” She began to unbutton his waistcoat.

He leaned up and smiled, though he was still inside her. “Now, Adele?”

“Yes, now. Take this off.”

He withdrew. She pulled the waistcoat off his shoulders, and he removed his shirt. Adele’s skirts were still bunched up around her waist, so she took them off, too, and they both faced each other on their knees, clad only in their boots.

“We better leave these on,” he said with a lift of his eyebrow, “in case we have to jump up and run.”

She laughed, and took his face in her hands. “Lie on top of me.”

His dark eyes flashed, and he smiled. It was a wolfish smile—the embodiment of sexual, teasing seduction. “With pleasure.”

He eased her onto her back again and covered her body with his own. His flat, hard stomach—hot and slick with sweat—touched hers. Adele marveled at the sensation of skin against skin. She wrapped her legs around his. She could feel his genitals touching hers, and instinctively she rotated her hips in little circles.

“If you want to do it again,” he said with a
teasing lilt to his voice, “I might need just a minute or two.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. My body needs to do this for some reason.”

“It’s instinct.”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, sending heat rippling under her skin.

Adele held nothing back. She wrapped her whole body around him and stroked him everywhere. He kissed her neck and she tossed her head back, looking up at the canopy of willow leaves all around them, listening to the chirping of birds and the breezes through the trees.

She had longed for a sense of freedom in her soul, and this was it. This was it. This was what it felt like to soar.

He grew stiff and hard again, and entered her with natural ease this time. He made love to her slowly and gently, for a long time on the soft ground. They changed positions so that she was on top, then they rolled to their sides, facing each other, making love quietly. He turned her over onto her stomach, and made love to her while he lay on top of her back. She tingled at the feel of his hot kisses and his breath at her nape, and when he kissed behind her ears. When they climaxed they were facing each other. He was on top again, gazing down at her while she pulsed and quickened and heaved in the grass. It was the most intense physical experience she’d ever known.

A few minutes later, Damien propped himself up on both elbows and gazed down at her face.

“Adele,” he said, sounding serious all of a sudden. “When will we tell Harold?”

She stared at him, her mind blank.
No…
She had not wanted to think about that just yet. She was enjoying this freedom too much. She wanted to exist only in the moment, without concern for the future or difficult decisions. The plain reminder of her reality sent her soul crashing down from the sky.

“When will
we
tell him?” Her mood was touched by a hint of apprehension. “That must be my decision, Damien, and mine alone. I do not want to be guided, yet again, by what others tell me I should or must do.”

He paused and wet his lips. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do, Adele. I only want you to know that I am here for you and with you, not to lead you, but to stand beside you.”

Adele’s heart gloried in the bliss of his words, yet at the same time, it seemed almost too perfect. She was having some trouble believing it could be real. It was too good to be true. And she supposed there was a small part of her that felt some shame for what they had just done, out of wedlock.