Valley of Silence Page 56

From somewhere outside an owl called. For its mate, she thought. She knew what it was now to pine for her mate.

She lifted off her circlet, set it aside, then reached up to take off her earrings. When she saw him watching her she realized these small acts, this prelude to disrobing, could arouse.

So she took them off slowly, watching him as he watched her. She took the cross she’d tucked under her bodice, drawing it over her head. This, she knew, was an act of trust.

“I have no ladies. Would you see to my laces?”

She turned her back, lifted her hair.

“I think I’ll try to make a zipper. It’s a simple thing, really, and makes dressing easier.”

“A lot of charm is lost to convenience.”

She sent him a smile over her shoulder. “Easy for you to say.” But then again, feeling him loosen those laces brought a flutter to her belly. “What invention pleased you the most over your time?”

“Indoor plumbing.”

The quickness of his answer made her laugh. “Larkin and I were spoiled, and miss it sorely. I studied the pipes and the tanks. I think I could fashion something like your shower.”

“A queen and a plumber.” He laid his lips on her shoulder as he eased the material away. “There’s no end to your talents.”

“I wonder how I’ll be as a gentleman’s valet.” She turned to him. “I like buttons,” she said as she began to undo his shirt. “They’re sensible, and pretty.”

So was she, he thought as she worked her way down efficiently. Then she shoved at her hair.

“I think I should cut this off. Like Blair’s. That’s sensible, too.”

“No. Don’t.” His belly quivered as her fingers paused on the button of his jeans. His combed down through the length of her hair, from crown to waist. “It’s beautiful. The way it falls over your shoulders, spills down your back. It all but glows against your skin.”

Charmed, she glanced over toward the long looking glass. And was jolted to see herself standing half dressed. And alone.

She looked away quickly, sent him an easy smile. “Still, it’s a great deal of trouble, and—”

“Does it frighten you?”

There was no point pretending she didn’t understand him. “No. It’s a bit of a shock is all. Is it hard for you? Not being able to see your reflection?”

“It just is. You adjust. Just another irony. Here, you’ve got eternal youth, but you won’t be able to admire yourself. Still... ”

He turned her around so they both faced the mirror. Then he lifted her hair, let it fall. When she let out a laugh at watching her hair seem to fly around on its own, he laid his hands on her shoulders.

“There are always ways to amuse yourself,” he told her. He lifted her hair again, and this time brushed his lips—and just a hint of teeth—along the nape of her neck.

He heard the quick intake of her breath, saw her eyes widen.

“No, no,” he murmured when she started to turn. “Just watch.” And trailed his fingers along her skin—bare shoulders, and down to where her loosened bodice clung tenuously to her br**sts. “Just feel.”

“Cian.”

“Did you ever dream of a lover coming to you in the night, in the dark?” He nudged the dress down to her waist then glided his fingertips over her br**sts. “Overtaking you. Hands and lips heating your skin.”

She lifted her hands to his, needing to feel them. Then flushed and dropped them again as the reflection showed her cupping her own br**sts.

Behind her, invisible, he smiled. “You said I didn’t take your innocence. You might have been right, but I think I will now. It’s... succulent, and what I am craves it.”

“I’m not innocent,” she said, but trembled.

“More than you know.” He circled her br**sts with his thumbs, moving in slowly until they rubbed stiffened peaks. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” And shuddered. “Yes.”

“A little fear can add to excitement.” He pushed the dress to the floor, leaned close to her ear. “Step out,” he whispered. “Now watch. Watch your body.”

Fear twisted with arousal so it was impossible for her to tell them apart. Her body was helpless, her mind transfixed. Hands and lips she couldn’t see roamed over her, erotically intimate, lazily possessive. She could see herself quivering, and the startled pleasure on her own face.

The clouds of surrender in her own eyes.

Her phantom lover ran his hands down her, fingers toying, tracing, leaving a trail of shivering flesh. This time when they took her br**sts, she covered his hands with hers, shameless.

She moaned for him, and still her eyes stayed on the glass. His scholar would never shut her eyes to new experience, to new knowledge. He could feel her trembles, and the instinctive movement of her hips as pleasure took her over. Candlelight played over her skin and sensation warmed it so it bloomed like a rose.

She moaned again as he trailed his fingers over her belly, and melting into him, hooked her arm back around his neck.

He only teased, skimming his fingers along her thighs, over the most sensitive flesh, hinting, only hinting at what was to come until her breath was sobbing out.

“Take,” he murmured. “Take what you want.” He gripped her hand, pressed it to his between her thighs. Trapped it there.

She felt her body buck against him, against herself as he stroked her toward a new, towering pleasure. His body was solid behind hers, and his voice murmured words she no longer understood, but in the glass there was only her own form, lost now to its own rising needs.

Release left her breathless, limp and amazed.

He spun her around so quickly she couldn’t find her balance, and knew she’d have lost it again in any case when his mouth took hers with a wild urgency. She could only cling, could only give while her heart slammed an anvil beat against his chest.

Of all he’d had and taken and tasted, he’d never known such hunger. A kind of madness of need that could only be met with her. For all his skill, all his experience, he was helpless when she held him against her. As ready and wrecked as she, he pulled her to the floor, and plunged inside her to forge that first desperate link.

He turned her face to the mirror once again as he ravished her, as her body went wild under his strong, thrusting hips. And when she came, quaking, he chained need with will until her heavy eyes opened, met his. Until she saw who had her.

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