A velvet warmth pressed against her throat. Tessa felt the deliciously soft mattress beneath her, saw the pink luminous glow at the window, inhaled the wood smoke and bayberry clinging to her husband's skin. Her husband who was nibbling hot wet kisses across the back of her neck. She lay on her side, and he was spooned around her, his body hard and cradled against hers.
'Good morning.' His words swept across the damp skin he'd been licking.
Tessa sighed. 'I'm supposed to be tending Samuel.'
'And what about your husband?' His hand circled around her ribs and covered her breast. 'I need tending, too.'
'You're not ill.'
'Nay, 'tis a different malady I suffer from.' His fingers kneaded and molded her sensitive flesh. 'Mayhap I can ask you to tend me.'
'I don't think there's a cure for your suffering.' Tessa could not hold back the bubble of happiness in her chest, expanding with every breath, with every press of his lips to the hollow between her shoulder blades.
'You can feel how swollen I've become.'
'Aye, something is very hard against the back of my thigh.' Tessa rolled over to face him. His smile became their kiss, molten and tingling and demanding. 'Mayhap I could soak that part of you in ice. 'Twill probably take down the swelling.'
' 'Twould work, I'm sure, but I had something else in mind.' His chuckle vibrated through her.
'I know exactly what you want, but 'tis already dawn and what about your father? I don't even remember leaving him last night.'
'Because I carried you here.'
'You did?' Maybe she had always thought Jonah Hunter handsome. And maybe all this time she'd held a secret liking for him. But now as his wife and knowing him like this, every time he stood up for her, took care of her, told her how special she was, why it made that affection inside her heart grow until it was so bright she couldn't see anything else.
'Father is better. He's already been bellowing for something to eat besides your thin broth and bird-dropping tea.'
'That tea is made from a mixture of herbs.' She laughed. 'If he is complaining, then he's on the mend.'
'Aye, and we may have some time alone. After all, I have this swollen part of me and I hear you are an excellent healer.'
'Not even I can heal your wickedness, Jonah. In fact, I have reason to believe 'tis terribly catching.'
'My wickedness?'
'Aye.' She splayed her hands on his chest, so solid, so broad, and delighted in the male-texture of bronzed skin and downy hair. 'For I've been feeling very wicked lately.'
'Have you been experiencing any swelling?'
Laughter spiraled deep inside, where happiness and a building ache for this man filled her. ' 'Tis possible. Mayhap I have need of your ministrations.'
'I'm no healer, but I possess a few skills of my own.' His lips wrapped around her left nipple.
Sharp pleasure sliced through her. Her head lulled back. Already she felt wet and restless, wanting him. 'What skills you have.'
'Aye. Seems to have had some effect here, at your nipple.'
'I can feel it.' She sighed when he suckled this time, drawing her deep into his mouth, and then arched her back. 'And even lower.'
'Truly? Mayhap I should see for myself.'
His hands caressed dazzling trails of heat down her ribs, over her abdomen and ever lower, to that private place that pulsed and ached for more than his touch. His clever fingers found her fiery center and stroked. Bright white pleasure jolted through her.
'I see what you mean. I think I can cure this problem.' His fingers grazed the sensitive inner folds and circled once, then again. She moaned low at the hot sensation that built there. Then he reached up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, and they rolled together until she was on top gazing down into the dark sparkles of his eyes.
'Lucky you are that I happened along.' His hands settled on her hips.
She felt the hard ridge of his shaft thrumming against her stomach. All thought fled. Only feeling remained. He gazed up at her with tenderness, with such adoration it frightened her, made her wish for endless nights to fill with this wondrous closeness.
'I want you.' His hands lifted her, and she rose over him. 'So very much.'
'As I want you.' Her breath caught when his shaft nudged the sensitive curve of her inner thighs. She opened to him, drawing him in with one smooth glide.
'We're good together, eh?' How dark his eyes were. How low his voice. 'I can't believe my luck in having you for my wife.'
'Jonah.' He felt so good inside her, thick and pulsing, stretching her tight. Her entire body responded, drawing taut around him. Emotion as bright as a springtime sun, as full as a blue moon, shone inside her, growing more sure every time they rocked together.
His hands on her hips guided her. She sat up, and the change of position shifted the feel of his shaft within her.
Such a thrilling feeling. She gazed down at him, melting at the way he looked up at her, as if she were beautiful, truly beautiful.
And he made her feel that way. Overcome, she moved in a slow rhythm, just to watch his jaw strum tight as she tortured him. But he stroked more deeply inside her with every slow thrust, and she was the one tortured. Control tumbled away. Heat stretched tight in her abdomen and built hot and fast there, where they joined. Soon he was bucking up to meet her strokes, driving her toward aching, unending sensation.
Surrender came in a series of wrenching ripples of muscle and soul. Tears burned her eyes as sharp pleasure exploded, tearing through her over and over again. Sharp, searing, so thrilling she could not bear it. So brilliant there was only sensation, only the two of them lost and burning.
She felt his climax, the tensed agony as he cried out, the rush of heat as he spilled his seed. His arms banded around her and pulled her tight against his chest. She held him, feeling as if she could never let him go. No one had ever moved her this much, made her feel cherished and wanted and more valued than any riches.
'I love you, Jonah,' she breathed, content to hold him for the rest of her life.
Chapter Twelve
' 'Tis almost time to begin turning the earth. The ground is nearly thawed.' Thomas kicked at a clod of dirt in the fallow fields, sodden from melting snow and ice.
Rain drummed to the ground in streaks of bleak dreary gray. The world was naught but bare-limbed trees and charcoal sky and dark earth. 'Twas the time between winter and spring, when the grasses had not yet awakened, when the earth itself still slept. A few sparrows startled, flying up to perch on low boughs.
Jonah tipped the rainwater off the brim of his hat.
'You're no farmer, Thomas. I'm afraid to listen to you.'
'Aye, you should be. Andy is the one with the experience, since he stayed home longer than any of us.' Thomas stared off toward the river, where a ship struggled to fill those pristine white sails with a breath of wind to take them on their way.
'Where is he? Chasing the young Anya's skirts?'
'Tessa told him that she'd have his head for that, and he believed her.' Thomas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 'I think Tessa is happy with us, with you.'
'Even living with men like us has to be a far sight better than enduring Charity Bradford's tongue lashings.'
'Aye. Andy and I discussed it just this morning. 'Tis the first time either one of us has actually seen the
