Passion's Joy (48 page)

"Force ... me?" Confused and distressed, her thoughts stumbled stupidly over the idea. "I know you don't want me... like... that."

Ram stiffened, more so as his mind encountered, greeted, met those words. So unbelievable, he desperately sought an explanation, but there was none. She could not have meant that. "My God, Joy," he whispered as he finally turned around. 'Tell me you know that's not true."

She stood perfectly still, frightened and nervous by this and confused, just confused. She slowly shook her head. Long minutes passed as she stood there stupidly beneath the heat of his gaze, her confusion growing with this unspoken question, the alarm that something was happening.

Ram knew only to tread carefully before jumping to wild conclusions. He walked to the door, shut it and leaned back against it, studying her small form. "Joy," he finally asked, "what do you imagine is the reason I've—" he searched for the words, finally selecting ones so mild they almost made him laugh—"ah, put distance between us?”

She watched her toes curl into the thick carpet, and with the next breath, she realized she was going to cry.

"No, dear God, don't cry." He fought desperately not to touch her. He would not touch her until he knew for a certainty. "Not until you tell me what you've been thinking these many long months."

"I can't talk of it."

It was a plea, he saw. "Joy, I need to know."

She turned from him, simply unable to face him with this, the matter of her heart.

"At first I didn't know," she began in a distant whisper. "A hundred times I'd tried to think of what I did wrong, why I... displease you so much... but I couldn't— I didn't know. I would remember when you cared for me, how you teased and laughed with me, how we would talk as though there was never enough time to say everything, and I’d remember when you used to look at me...” Words could not describe how he once looked at her, and she paused in the futile effort. "Then when I carried Sean, you were so gentle and tender… When he was born, I thought because I was recovering—" She stopped suddenly; the pain of the words made her pause. She struggled to say the last. "Then I could only guess you resented me for a marriage you did not want."

Ram stared in dumbfounded wonder. How could she not know? There was only one possible explanation of her ignorance--her unconditional love for his son and her complete confidence in his wellness created the assumption that he would want more children. In her mind, the curse was banished with the living proof brought by their son. He wondered if she even questioned this? It was her naiveté, the infallibility of her optimism and goodness...

Yet if she didn't know, then what? What if he deceived her? How long could he have her love? A month? Two? A year? Would it be worth the cost of such a deception?

He felt as if he had spent the last year fighting nothing but his desire for her, a near constant agony of wanting something so desperately, having her so near that the mere reach of his hand would bring her to his arms. When he thought of ending it, of owning her love and passion and laughter, the answer was yes. Yes, if it were even only this night...

"Don't want you?" he questioned and she spun around, startled by how close he was. Her eyes shot up from the wide expanse of his chest to confront the intensity of his gaze. His strength and power, his warmth threatened to overwhelm her. If she but leaned forward she'd fall in his arms

—

"Shall I show you how much I want you?" he asked with a calmness he didn't feel. Not waiting for a response, he took her small hand in his, locking his gaze to the luminous blue eyes. "Do you feel how my hand shakes, my love?"

The only trembling she felt was her own, whether from fear or something else, she knew

not.

"Do you know why my hand shakes so?"

She slowly shook her head. His gaze lowered over her form, and with an instinctual urge to

protect herself, she forgot to breathe. "It is with the effort not to do this—" His free hand reached to her gown, and with a single tug, the thin straps broke. The gown slid to an unnoticed pile at her feet.

She never knew how long she stood there with her arms folded across herself and her eyes closed, victim to his gaze. The tension built until she felt herself sway with it. Two strong hands caught her, and she opened her eyes to see his nakedness, magnificently bold in its readiness. He brought her arms behind her back, while pulling her gently against the full measure of his desire. She gasped with the feel of it.

His huge body tensed dramatically until he released the sharp intake of breath. With his arms crossed over the small of her back, cupping her buttocks, he lifted her up and over him.

Where their flesh touched, fire leaped viciously in force. "This is how much I want you," he said huskily. "I have never, not in the whole of my life, wanted anything more."

A question struggled desperately above the onslaught of wild sensations. She could not think to even know her feet had touched ground, for her back was arched and his hands combed through her hair. Two silver barrettes tumbled to the carpet. Her head was held back as his mouth blazed a scorching trail from her soft lips, along her neck, over the hollow of her throat and lower still, seeking the thrusts of her breasts, too long resisted. Then she was swooning, nothing but small pants beneath a pleasure too great to describe, as his tongue flicked over and around the straining mounds, swirling and sucking, feasting on the creamy white softness like a starving man.

As a mindless tingling pleasure stole every last sane thought in her mind, her arms were freed to circle his waist, then climb up and down the hard muscles of his back, desperately searching for a lifeline as her knees collapsed. Yet he was holding her as his mouth found hers again, and he was kissing her with all the strength and tenderness of his being.

He broke the kiss only to lift her the short distance to the bed. Though her body was finally lit with the fuel of his desire, confusion, fear and uncertainty crowded into the brief space of the interruption, and she closed her eyes with the anguish of it.

As he lay her gently on the soft folds of a satin comforter, Ram came partially over her. Her dark hair, darker in the night, spilled over the pillows. The firelight danced over the beauty spread before him, and no, he had never wanted anything as much. Yet he saw the cost, a cost he'd not pay. "Look at me, my love."

She opened her eyes, and he saw the fear sparkling with the question.

"Oh no, my love. I had you once with a virgin's fear, once by force, once as you fought to save our child's life. I'll not have you with fear again."

"Then why? Why would you love me now? After—"

Something dark and awful came into his gaze, leaving before she could name it as deception. "The reason no longer exists; we shall not consult it." That was all he said, all he had to say for his hands brushed through the smooth gloss of her hair, and his lips gently kissed the spot on her neck where her pulse fluttered wildly, then hovered over her mouth as he said the words spun from her dreams: "Know only this! I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you."

Tears blinded her. The rage of emotions added to the tumult of desire coursing through her. She could not think, certainly not as he kissed her again, so tenderly at first. His hand played over her form, brushing her skin with fire. The hot constriction in her chest melted by degrees, but the kiss became wild and hungry, flaring as the enormity of his desire flooded into her. His kiss devoured her; she was drowning, drowning until she felt the shudder pass through his huge body and he broke the kiss. "Joy, Joy" came his husky whisper. "I want you so much. I'm afraid—"

This was never finished in words, for his hands and mouth moved over her in a crescendo of need that spoke louder than words. His tongue and mouth found her breasts again. She tensed, feeling flushed and feverish as he drew softly and slowly, then urgently. The hot swirling patterns made her breathless, dizzy, helplessly wanton with an agony of yearning. At last, he answered her

with the searching probe of his hand, a hand seeking, finding the sweet dampness of her desire. The combined assault laced her small body with a silken sheen of heat, bringing tiny pulsating ripples of pleasure, a sweet prelude of what was to come.

All she knew was the pleasure spilling into her body, a need for his lips on her mouth. Soft cries escaped her. His name said as a prayer. Her hands grazed the muscle encased back and arms, a touch part clinging, part urging. He felt it, as aware of her untutored touch as he was of the creamy soft breasts swelling with passion beneath the play of his mouth. He thought he would die.

Those small hands circled the thick curls of his head, and she writhed and twisted, finally managing to find his lips, hardly aware of anything but the need for his lips. Softly, shakily, she was kissing him.

The kiss ended as he took her hands and shifted to hold her down. She felt his mouth move lower still, across her belly and lower. She tried to twist away, writhing wildly, but he held her still for the lash of his tongue. Hot chills raced over her, washing her in thick pleasure, yet creating a yearning so intense, it pierced her soul; all she wanted was him, all of him. Her body quivered with the need, and his name was called over and over again.

At last he answered the luminous pleasure of her small writhing form with a fierce thrust that drove her arms around his broad shoulders and jolted his entire body with a lightning bolt of pleasure. He stopped instantly. "Sweet mercy, I have died."

She opened her eyes to see his gaze changed with passion. He held still for a long moment, letting the heat build and build as he placed feather light kisses her face. His next movement seemed to reach her very heart.

He was everywhere—inside and outside of her—and that was all she knew.

She became a supple, agile animal beneath him, sending pulsating pleasure through him. He was shocked by it, by the passion matching his, and overcoming her was a joy he had never known to imagine. Avidly listening to her cries, he thrust rapidly and forcefully with his full length and thickness. He watched as she writhed and winced and as he brought her to the height of exquisite pleasure, she clung tightly to him and he joined her in a culmination of their love.

She lay breathless and still, dazed and humbled, hardly able to feel her love-soaked body as he turned on his back and gathered her in his arms. Consciousness was no place near her; she couldn't even think enough to reach for it. Had she looked at him, she would have found him staring at her with bright unmasked love and plain unmistakable awe.

His warmth consumed her, the hardness of his body enclosed her in his love, powerfully felt. Though their bodies touched at all points, she still could not get close enough. His hands ran lovingly through the tousled mess of her hair, smoothing it and drawing it away from her, so that he could freely caress her back and tenderly kiss her neck and face.

Words were poor tools this night and none were used as they lay in the warmth of their love. Time passed unnoticed, and just as sleep might have claimed her tenuous grasp of consciousness completely, he moved.

Surprise lifted on her face as he brought her body completely over his length, startling her with the feel of his readied desire. Hands braced on his chest, she lifted partially up, then felt his sharp intake of breath, an answer to the question in her eyes.

"My God, do you have any idea of how beautiful you are?" The renewed desire in his gaze gave her an idea. "All I know is my desire, my love, that I would have you again and again; for as long as I have you, my love will know no limits."

The very choice of words might have warned her, but he pulled her head down for a kiss as he slipped back into her and desire was reborn in the instant. With a warm chuckle at her gasp of surprise, he taught her the advantages of the position ...

Daylight stretched long lazy fingers into the room when he finally released his claim on her. Cradled in the warmth of his arms, she felt her heartbeat spiral down, an utter complete exhaustion. From somewhere down the hall she heard little Sean happily informing the world he was awake.

For the first time in his life, she would not be there to greet him, but no matter, Mrs. Thimble was the next best thing. She thought she heard herself asking Ram for something, something terribly important, but she never knew for sure, for the light of day was quite suddenly extinguished.

After a hard day of riding, exhausted and tired, yet excited, Seanessy burst through the great front doors of Barrington Hall like an enormous gust of wind. Mr. Cutler rushed to greet him, seeing the wind had muddied feet and certainly no appointment card, much less a dignified willingness to wait for the proper announcement. Three of Sean's men followed him in with a noisy clamor of spurs, indecently raw comments and enough mud, Mr. Cutler saw with dismay, to create a swamp.

"Where's our lordship?" Sean demanded, removing his gloves.

Mr. Cutler absolutely refused to contemplate how Barrington Hall's doors looked suddenly small, consumed by his lordship's acquaintances—for he saw these characters as such—and taking first things first, he rather unhurriedly brought the glove box to Sean and opened the lid, presenting the jeweled case. Sean never noticed as he tucked his gloves carelessly into his belt.

The lid shut with a loud slam. "I'm afraid his lordship is unavailable presently." "Oh? Where's he off to then?"

"Lord and Lady Barrington departed recently for Ireland." "What?" came not as a question but as a demand.

Mr. Cutler watched the unmasked confusion lift on the handsome pirate's face, and after repeating the assertion, he excused himself and presented Seanessy with his back. At last the upper hand…

Abandoned and concerned, Sean stood dumfounded in the entrance hall.

He had left on a run to Gibraltar, through the Mediterranean to Egypt, where he negotiated a shipping contract with the reigning Sheik Adol Kabar, one that would potentially land he and Ram a tidy fortune. He had met with considerable success; they had successfully negotiated and settled on prices. The Sheik had one condition; they must rid his highness of some troublesome sea scoundrels operating out of an isolated area of the coast there. This was hardly a problem; he had assured his highness it would be their pleasure to do so, and indeed it would; but as neither his or Ram's ships were rigged for battle, he needed to secure the Catrina and Atlantic Ann for a couple of months and get the docked ships readied and manned. There was much to discuss with Ram, not the least of which was the hope that Ram would see the task as an interesting divergence and want to come along.