Virgin Seduction

awareness that she was 'forbidden fruit,' and his wondering if she might have been the more desirable to him because of that. And if that was true, then what did it say about his character? Was he, Cade Gallagher, who prided himself on his honesty, on his sense of honor and responsibility, afterall no more than a spoiled, contrary kid, wanting what he couldn't have?

A sound interrupted his dismal reflections-the soft rumbling of a cleared throat. Then it seemed that the thunder picked it up and carried it off into a darkening sky like a rolling echo, while Cade gazed down into the flushed face and luminous eyes of the woman he'd married, and felt that same rumbling in the back of his chest… the bottom of his belly.

A dust devil danced across the crest of the hill and swirled beneath the horses' feet. While the animals sidestepped nervously, it sprang like a teasing sprite into the sky, and Leila's laughter rose after it as, taking no chances, she held on to her hat with both hands. The hat reminded Cade of the one he'd retrieved for her from the polo field, and he could see from the way she suddenly went still and the way her eyes clung to his that she was remembering that day, too.

The dust devil had gone on its way, but the wind still tugged at him, nudging him as though it was trying to get his attention. It came to him in a fierce little gust of exultation: She's not forbidden fruit. She's my wife. My wife!

The thought crossed his mind that, as reprieves went, that one sure hadn't amounted to much.

He watched himself insert a wondering, wary finger under the cord that was supposed to keep her hat from blowing off, and slowly…slowly pull it out from under her chin. Questions sprang into her eyes, but she held them back with strong white teeth pressing into the softness of her lower lip. Moving as slowly as he did, she lowered her hands and let him take the hat. But he could see she had no idea what he meant to do. She couldn't hear the blood rushing through his body, like the sound of wind inside his head, or the merciless pounding of his heart.

Her eyes never left his face as he looped the string of her hat over the horn of her saddle, then slowly took off his own hat and hung it right over hers. His breath felt heavy, and seemed to stick in his throat. Nerves jumped and quivered in his belly. And still she didn't know.

He put his hands on the sides of her head and smoothed back her sweat-damp hair with his thumbs. Tiny wrinkles appeared in her flawless forehead, like ripples in satin. He gazed at them, fascinated, while his thumbs stroked gentle furrows above her ears. And now she knew.

A faint sound…a tiny movement drew his gaze, and he saw that her lips had opened. He knew the question that must be poised there-he'd heard it once before. Do you want to kiss me? He also knew that she would never ask him that question again.

Remembering the sweetness of that time, the innocence, pain stabbed at him, ruthless and brutal. What have I done to her? With a guttural little cry, he lowered his mouth to hers.

The first shock that came to him then was how familiar she seemed. As if, during all the time since he'd last kissed her, his unconscious mind had gone right on learning the shapes, tastes and textures of her. He wondered now if he'd dreamed of her, those nights in the guest room or in the hotel room in Dallas, when he'd woken up with the sheets in a tangle and his body in a sweaty fever, aching with unfulfilled desire.

How unbelievably good her mouth tasted to him-his very favorite food when his belly was empty…cool pure water when he was dying of thirst. Like a starving man, he tried to remind himself to go slowly, to not be greedy, lest he overwhelm himself and her. And so he separated his mouth from hers and pulled back a little…but only a little, and only long enough to savor the misty puffs of her exhalations, so soft and sweet he thought it must be like a flower breathing. He thought of that, and of their own volition, just before they touched hers again, his lips formed themselves into a smile.

So caught up was he in his own sensations, he didn't notice right away that she was trembling. When that awareness did penetrate the blissful fog he was in, he felt a bright stab of pain. Like a shaft of sunlight, it melted away the insulating blanket of reason he'd kept wrapped around his emotions, and he felt the burn of desire… unsuppressed, unshielded, inescapable.

He had no defenses for it. He wanted her. Wanted her under him, her thighs making a cradle for him, and her breasts pillows for his chest. He ached to be inside her, to feel her soft, enfolding warmth around him. He wanted…he needed her, more than he needed his next breath.

A shudder rocked him from head to toe and a groan rumbled deep inside his chest as he let go of her head and wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her and bringing her body against him with all the restraint he could muster. It cost him dearly, that restraint; he could feel himself tremble. But oh, how good it felt to hold her, that marvelous body he'd never seen, so strong and supple he could feel every line and curve even through the clothes she wore. Avidly, he skimmed her body with his hands like a blind man exploring a new and wondrous gift. Eyes closed, he immersed himself in the sensual banquet of her body…the warmth and textures of her…the taste and smell, even the whimpering, whispering sounds-

No-that wasn't Leila. The horses. Close on both sides of them, they were tossing their heads and sidestepping, whickering nervously. An instant later there was a deafening boom. Cade jerked as if he'd been shot.

For one moment, Leila wondered if she had been shot. For this was just what she had always imagined it would feel like to suffer calamitous injury-a cold emptiness and no pain at all, only a trembling that would not stop.

'Are you okay?' Cade was holding her by the arms, looking down at her with dark, smoky eyes.

'Yes, of course.' And she could not imagine how her voice could sound so okay when she was anything but. It was the night on the terrace all over again; she could not imagine how she would stand alone if he let go of her. Deciding she did not want to find out, she reached behind her with a surreptitious hand and grasped a stirrup for support.

'That lightning was close. We'd best get off of this hilltop before the next one comes.' His voice sounded as if he needed to cough.

Leila nodded. Without another word she turned her back to him and reached up to grasp the saddlehorn as he bent down to make a stirrup for her with his hands. A moment later she was sitting in the saddle, calmly adjusting her hatstring under her chin as thunder rumbled and growled in the vast roiling sky above her head. That is how I feel, she thought, gazing up at it. So much darkness and tension and tumult.

She was glad to follow Cade down the slope into the sandy wash, then quickly up the other side…glad to break into a gallop when the first raindrops came. She had known thunderstorms, of course, but to actually be outside in one was very different from watching from the calm and safety of the royal palace, or Cade's solid brick house near Houston. Suddenly those endless vistas she'd longed for, that vast sky that had seemed to promise freedom and limitless possibilities, now was filled with violence and danger, forces powerful beyond imagining. It was awe- inspiring, yes, but frightening, too. And Leila was glad. Glad that her mind was all taken up with awe and fear and coping with powerful forces of nature, and that, for the moment, at least, there was no room left for thoughts of Cade, and what had just happened to her.

The first little shower passed quickly, hard pelting drops that stung like pebbles. But the storm seemed to be following them-chasing them, Leila thought. Spiteful Nature, bellowing and grumbling at two thoughtless trespassers and hurling handfuls of stinging raindrops at their backs. The day seemed to grow darker, until it seemed as though day had become evening. She could see the lightning flashes now, not just hear the thunder that came after, and she was glad when they reached the live oaks that told her they were coming close to the ranch.

They had been moving at an easy gallop, a gait Cade had told her was called a lope, riding single file, following a well-worn path through the trees because the sandy ground there was all but covered with clumps of low-growing cactus. As she followed along behind Cade, for some reason-perhaps because they were nearly home and shelter was not far off-Leila's thoughts began to creep back to the terrifying thing that had happened to her, there on the hilltop. Her thoughts were still full of awe and fear and powerful forces of nature, but now those things had a name, a face-Cade's.

She stared at his back as they loped along through the twisty, gray-green trees, thinking how strong and powerful he looked, with his broad shoulders and long, lean body, admiring the way he sat so tall and straight, with his butt firm in the saddle, the American-the Western-way. Like a cowboy. And her heart began to pound almost with the same rhythm as the horses' hooves. What is happening to me? she wondered.