like a rising wind. When Elizabeth could not stand the distance any longer, she took a tentative step toward her husband. 'Geoffrey?' His name was a plea, and Geoffrey knew for what she asked.
'In time, Elizabeth,' he whispered. He turned and walked into the water and did not stop until the clear liquid covered his chest.
Elizabeth took her soap in her hand and quickly followed Geoffrey. She let out a gasp when the water touched her. 'It is too cold,' she called to Geoffrey, retreating a step. The water covered her hips and Elizabeth gingerly cupped some of the water and slowly wet her arms. Trembling, she lathered the soap and hurried to get her bath done. She turned her back on Geoffrey out of shyness as she scrubbed the dust from her body.
'Come to your husband, Elizabeth.'
Elizabeth turned, saw the distance, and frowned. 'I am cold, Geoffrey,' she repeated. She held her lower lip between her teeth and waited, hoping Geoffrey would come to her.
'I am waiting, wife.' There was laughter in Geoffrey's voice and Elizabeth found herself smiling. 'It is your duty to come to me,' he advised with mock gruffness.
'I would always do my duty,' Elizabeth called out.
She took a deep breath and began to walk toward Geoffrey, letting the water cover her breasts and shoulders. And then she stopped, bracing her legs against the current. 'Now you must come to me, Geoffrey,' she said. They were just a few feet away, the frigid water lapping against both of them. She was about to tell him that she would be completely under water if she ventured any farther, and to remind him also that she could not swim, lest he had forgotten that fact.
Geoffrey's gaze stopped her from forming the words, from thinking coherently. She could say nothing, only meet his stare as the smile left her face. She was becoming bewitched by his gaze, so hot and demanding. He was calling to her without speaking a word. She heard the command with all of her senses and did not hesitate to answer.
They both took a step toward each other at the same instant. And then Geoffrey's arms were around Elizabeth 's waist. He pulled her toward him, locking her legs between his, letting her feel his desire.
'I had thought to bathe you with your soap, to savor each touch against your skin, and then to bathe you with the love words all gentle women yearn to hear.' His voice was gruff and halting as he continued, 'I have never wanted anyone as I want you, Elizabeth. My aim was to woo you this night, to play the tender pursuer.'
Elizabeth 's eyes widened with her husband's declarations.
'Now that the time has come, wife, I find I do not know the words of wooing, and admit that I am lacking in the discipline and patience for the task. Had I taken your soap and tried to bathe you, the bath would have been forgotten and I would have taken you then and there.'
A smile tugged at the corners of Elizabeth 's mouth. 'You call wooing a task, my lord?' she asked in a soft voice.
Geoffrey looked so serious and purposeful, and Elizabeth was both amused and disgruntled by his words. 'Geoffrey, I do not have much patience for wooing either. I would hear your feelings without the flowery words, and be most content.'
Geoffrey looked surprised and then frowned. 'What know you of wooing?' he demanded.
'Very little,' Elizabeth admitted as she rubbed her fingers across his rib cage. 'It just seems to me that saying words of love to each other should not be considered a task.' She pulled at one of the soft hairs on his chest to underline her words.
Geoffrey stilled her hands by placing her arms around his waist and then began to stroke the length of her back. 'It is much like learning to yield the blade,' Geoffrey commented.
'I do not understand,' Elizabeth replied, tilting her head back to see if he was jesting.
'This wooing. It requires practice,' Geoffrey explained.
Elizabeth laughed, ignoring her husband's frown. 'There is no need, my lord. Courting is for those who have not declared their love for each other.
'But I have not explained my feelings for you, Elizabeth.' Geoffrey sounded exasperated. 'I know what you wish to hear and I would get on with it,' he muttered.
'You have my full attention,' Elizabeth replied in a soft voice. Inside she was fairly screaming with joy. She felt like laughing and weeping at the same time. Geoffrey loved her, just as Elslow had predicted.
'You will be serious,' Geoffrey demanded, pinching the curve of her bottom.
Elizabeth nodded, rubbing her face against his chest.
'I had considered that when I was older and had given up many of my duties, then I would find time to tell you that I cared for you,' he began. He was distracted from his speech when Elizabeth began to place soft kisses on his chest.
Elizabeth used her tongue to circle and stroke Geoffrey's sensitive nipples and heard his sharp intake of breath.
' Elizabeth!'
'I love you, Geoffrey.' A bare whisper, inhaled like an aphrodisiac, arousing Geoffrey's senses, releasing his heart.
'And I love you.' So quietly spoken, so joyfully received.
Geoffrey chained his hands in her hair and tilted her head back. Slowly he lowered his head, intent on sealing his vow with a kiss. Elizabeth parted her lips and waited. Tears of love and pleasure filled her eyes. Geoffrey's lips touched hers, the tip of his tongue stopping to stroke the soft outline of her mouth. Elizabeth made a sound that sounded like a contented kitten's purr. Geoffrey took control of her mouth fully then, thrusting his tongue inside to caress and stroke the sweet warmth inside. His hands left her silken hair and slid sensuously down her back to knead and fondle the soft flesh of her bottom.
The kiss devoured and replenished, and neither was the victor or the conquered. Geoffrey finally tore his mouth away. Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, and Geoffrey immediately silenced her with another kiss, letting her tongue invade his mouth, wanting her to know and feel the darkness and mystery also.
'So beautiful,' he whispered when his mouth moved down to her neck. He lifted her up so that he could worship her breasts, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist.
When his mouth covered one breast, Elizabeth clung to his shoulders with trembling hands and groaned her pleasure. The roughness of his cheek against her tender skin was an erotic stimulus. Geoffrey continued to suck the hard nipple until Elizabeth began to pull on his hair. 'Do not make me wait,' she pleaded in a half-whisper. 'It has been so long, Geoffrey. Please.'
Geoffrey lifted his head and looked at Elizabeth with eyes darkened by passion. Her breath left her with a low moan. The love and hunger radiating in Geoffrey's hot gaze burned and melted, caressed and scorched. He was the flame, she the fire.
'You are exquisite torture,' Geoffrey groaned, burying his head in her silken hair.
Elizabeth 's answer was to hug him as tightly as possible. Geoffrey held her hips with his hands and slowly walked toward the bank.
When he had reached his destination, he let Elizabeth slide down his length and held her against him. Then he gently pulled her arms away from him and turned to spread her cape upon the grass. He turned again, to beckon Elizabeth, but his wife was already there, throwing herself into his arms. He felt her shiver and immediately lowered her to the ground, intent on covering her with his body. 'You are cold,' he whispered against her ear, 'but I will warm you.'
'I am not cold,' Elizabeth whispered. She nibbled on the soft lobe of his ear and then touched the inside with the tip of her tongue.
Geoffrey responded by rubbing his hardness against her in a slow, sensuous motion and then moved downward. His mouth circled her navel while his hand stroked the moist golden triangle guarding Elizabeth 's heat. His fingers sought and found her, again and again, becoming more demanding with each touch, each change in pressure. Elizabeth began to move her hips against him, her eyes closed in splendor. She felt like she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces and moaned her need.
'I will taste your sweetness, drink your nectar,' Geoffrey said huskily against her. His mouth and tongue replaced his hand and Elizabeth turned to liquid fire. Her hands dug into the grass and she could concentrate on nothing but the wild flame stroking her so intimately. And then the fire consumed her, released her. She trembled,
