‘Would you like me to do that again?’ They might have been at a garden party were it not for the hard, hot undertone of desire in his voice.
Deb twisted on the blankets, her hands bunching tightly in the material. ‘Please…’
She had never known such intensity of feeling, never even guessed at such sensations. Once again her body was convulsed with the purest bliss and she lay shaking and devastated in his arms.
He did not let her rest. His fingers drifted back between her thighs and resumed a slow and tortuous stroking. Her body was tight and she wriggled in protest against the renewed touch but he persisted, giving her no choice but to accept his caress. To Deb’s amazement, her body quickened again, her blood beating feverishly as the heat pooled within her. She gave a little gasp of need and Richard’s mouth covered hers, drinking deep. He was above her and inside her again, and Deb reached for him and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his back and down over his buttocks. She felt the shudder that went through him whenever she touched him and it made her feel triumphant. This time was slow and the sensation of possessing and being possessed filled her senses and overwhelmed her beyond thought. Richard dipped his head to her breasts and the hot pleasure stirred through her once again and she tangled her fingers in his hair to hold his head there, feeling a spasm jerk through her each time he used his teeth against her skin.
She was drowning. The faint ebb and flow of the tide outside mingled in her head with the flow of her body until she could bear it no longer. She felt Richard bite down gently on her breast and she cried aloud as she tumbled over the edge of mindless delight, feeling him fall with her into the darkness where sheer ecstasy and sheer exhaustion held her captive and dropped her into the deepest sleep.
Richard eased himself quietly down the stairs and opened the door of the house. The night air flooded in, cold and crisp, laced with sea salt and something else that caught his attention. Smoke. Somewhere, nearby, there was a fire.
He was not certain what impulse had made him drag himself from the warm haven of the bed to check that all was secure outside. He had not wanted to leave Deb, not then, not ever.
He trod silently across the yard to the stables. The horses had smelled the smoke too and were bumping nervously in their stalls, but nothing else seemed amiss. Richard walked to the edge of the terrace. The smell of smoke was stronger here, but it was the wood smoke of a bonfire rather than anything else.
Richard paused. Although the idea seemed preposterous, he was almost certain that the privateer they had seen earlier was moored in Kestrel Creek, a quarter-mile to the east, and the smoke was from a bonfire on the beach. It would be unconscionably dangerous for a pirate to drop anchor anywhere near the coast, particularly if he was French. Yet it was not as unlikely as it seemed. Someone had been to the house since he and Justin had last used it back in July. The bottle of brandy that Deb had found earlier was not the half-drunk version that they had left three months ago, but a new bottle and a very fine one at that. Then there had been the tiny, perfectly made wooden ship that he had found on the windowsill scratched with the initials DDL…
Richard went across to the water butt and doused his face, enjoying the cold shock of the water. He shook his head vigorously, sending the water droplets flying. That was better. He could think clearly now.
He should wake Deb now and escort her home, though he had the deepest of misgivings. Without a pistol it was dangerous to travel through the forest at night, particularly if the smugglers and the revenue might be out, let alone any other nefarious characters. The last thing that he wanted to do was put Deb in danger. He had already created sufficient difficulties for one night. He leaned both hands on the stone wall of the terrace and took a deep breath. Whatever he had been thinking with earlier, it had not been his brain. He had compromised Deb thoroughly with this episode and now he would ruin her if he did not return her to Mrs Aintree’s care immediately. It must be close on midnight.
Richard stretched and tilted his head to look up at the darkened window. Before that night he had thought that he could not possibly love Deb more, and yet now he was fathoms deep in an emotion he had never dreamed possible. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go ever again; he wanted to cherish and protect her, to make love to her again until her quiescent body quivered beneath his touch with all the passion of which she was capable.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her and he would propose marriage to her properly, not as some sort of fleeting arrangement to outwit the demands of her father. If she did not like it, then it was too bad. At least he would have been honest with her and told her of his feelings. If he did not, he thought that he might explode.
He went back into the house and felt his way up the stairs gingerly, guided by the moonlight. Deb had not stirred. She was nestled deep into the blankets and he paused to look down at her sleeping face whilst a huge wave of love and longing swept through him and stole his breath. He put out a hand to shake her awake and tell her to dress, but before he touched her she opened her eyes. In the moonlight her face was beautiful and bemused and her eyes deep pools of blue.
‘I love you,’ she said dreamily, and she reached for him, pulling him close. He knew that she was almost asleep and possibly did not even know what she said, but the impulse to wake her properly and take her home died in that moment.
For a second time that night Richard discarded his clothes and slid under the covers beside her. She turned towards him in her sleep, snuggling close with the trusting confidence of a child. Richard obligingly angled his body to accommodate hers. He fell asleep with her head resting over his heart.
Chapter Sixteen
D eb had no idea of the time when she awoke. The moon was pouring its light into the tower room and the soft hush of the waves was as sweet and soothing as a caress. Deb lay with her eyes open, watching the shadows shift on the ceiling and breathing in the scent of lavender and spent candles. She felt warm and languorous and, for some reason, wide awake.
She sat up, drawing the covers close about her. Beside her, Richard shifted slightly in his sleep and turned towards her, but he did not wake. A small smile curved Deb’s mouth as she looked down at him.
She examined her feelings. One of the things that she had been afraid of was that the feeling of wanton happiness would burst like a bubble, leaving her as disillusioned with herself as she had after Neil’s betrayal. This time, after all, she had knowingly given herself to a man. She had sought his embrace with a brazen disregard for propriety and practically demanded that he make love to her. She smiled a little to herself at the memory of it. She did not feel cheapened, or dishonoured, or immoral. With Richard she felt warm and happy and cherished. She was not sure what constituted the difference, but it was there and she was in no mood to question it. She slipped from the bed and stole across to the window. The view was so beautiful that it made her catch her breath. The bright light of the moon spilled across the sea, turning the beach to silver and painting the trees in shades of black and white.
‘Deb?’
Richard was behind her. She felt the warmth of his naked body against her, a counterpoint to the chill of the cool night air from the window. He slid his arms about her and drew her head back against his chest.
‘I woke,’ Deborah said. ‘It was so beautiful that I wanted to see…’
Richard’s lips touched her collarbone and drifted along the line of her shoulder. Deb shivered, but not from the cool draught. His hands spread across her bare stomach and she felt her muscles contract beneath his caress. When his hands moved up to her breasts she was already waiting for their touch and arched back against him, helpless in her desire. His cheek brushed hers, hard against her softness.
‘The night is not over yet…’ he reminded her, and her heart leaped at his words and the heated images they provoked.
He turned her into the window alcove, so that her back was against the hard stone of the wall, and kissed her until she was mindlessly adrift and lost in sheer bliss. He lifted her up and held her trapped between his body and the wall. She obeyed without hesitation his instruction to wrap her legs about him, sliding down to find herself impaled, senses utterly ravished at his deep invasion of her body. The stone was cold behind her, but the heat of his body scorched her. His hands steadied her, holding her still to meet his thrust. The shocking delight of what she
