chemise over her thighs.
'Very, very much.'
'Enough to spend a lifetime doing it?' she asked.
'Mmm-hmm. Enough to let you master him.'
She cocked her head and smiled. 'Really?'
'Oh, yes.' His lips found the hollow where her neck met her shoulder.
Belle felt herself moving backwards until she felt the bed behind her. John's mouth had moved down to cover one of her breasts, and she was finding it very difficult to stand. They sank down onto the bed together.
The heat of his body seared her into the mattress for only a moment before he lifted himself up and tore his shirt off. 'God, Belle,' he said raggedly. 'If you only knew…'
'If I only knew what?' she asked quietly, her eyes sliding over his bare chest with feminine appreciation.
His hands, which had been undoing the buttons on his trousers, stilled. 'How much… What you…' He gave his head a little shake, as if to dislodge the words from his throat. 'My life was…' He swallowed. 'I don't know how to say it.'
Belle reached out and took his hand. 'Then show me.'
He flattened her palm against his stomach and slid it up to his heart. 'It beats for you,' he whispered. 'Only you.'
He moved toward her slowly, as if pulled by some invisible thread connecting them. The rest of his clothing fell to the floor, and then he was with her, the heat of their bodies separated only by the thin silk of her chemise.
Belle could feel the urgency bursting within him. His hands roamed her skin with an energy that was almost frantic. Desire curled through her body, whipped up into white hot heat by his hands and lips and the incoherent whisperings of his mouth.
She tore at her chemise, trying to move it up her body, but he pushed her hands back down. 'Leave it,' he said. 'I like it.'
'But I want to feel you,' she gasped.
'You can.' He splayed his hand over her midriff. 'I can feel you. And I feel silk, and heat, and desire.'
Belle felt something quickening in her abdomen. Her breath was coming in short little pants. His hips were pressing against hers, the evidence of his desire nestled between her legs. 'John, I-'
'What, love?'
'I want to feel you.'
A shudder went through his body, and Belle could feel the tension in his muscles as he fought to control his desire.
'You don't have to go slowly,' she whispered. 'I want it, too.'
His eyes flew to hers. 'Belle, I don't want to hurt you.'
'You won't. You could never hurt me.'
His hands moved to her legs, and he slowly separated them, pushing up her silky chemise in the process. The tip of his manhood found her, and he began to move forward.
Belle caught her breath as she felt him entering her. It was the most intimate of kisses, and she arched her hips to bring him even closer. His movements grew faster, more furious.
It was building within her. A force. A tension. It was growing, filling her.
John's breathing grew ragged. He sank his fingers into her hair, gasping her name as he pushed forward and back, his body lost in primal rhythm.
Belle was spiraling toward ecstasy. She clawed at his back, trying to reach something that was so close… and then she was there. Pleasure gripped her, and she screamed out his name.
But John didn't hear her. Her shouts were drowned out by his own as he surged forward one last time and exploded within her. He collapsed on top of her, his entire body heaving with exertion.
Many minutes later he rolled onto his side, pulling her along with him. Their bodies were now separated, but John held her close. 'I want to fall asleep with you in my arms,' he whispered. 'I want to feel you, and to smell you. I want to know you're here.'
Belle snuggled closer. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
John sighed, a smile forming on his lips. He nuzzled his face against her hair, dropping a kiss on top of her head. 'My wife,' he said, unable to keep a touch of wonder from his voice. 'My wife.'
Chapter 18
It wasn't until the next morning that Belle remembered to ask John about his conversation with Alex. He briefly considered hiding the truth from her, but one look into her inquisitive blue eyes reminded him that he respected her far too much to resort to subterfuge.
'I know who is trying to kill me,' he finally said, his voice low.
Belle sat up in bed, pulling the covers over her breasts. 'Who?'
'George Spencer.' He cleared his throat. 'The one I told you about.'
The blood drained from Belle's face. 'But I thought he'd left the country.'
'I thought so, too. Ashbourne saw him outside the house before the wedding.'
'Are you certain that he'd want to kill you?'
John closed his eyes as his memory took him back to Spain. The stench of sex and blood. The agony in Ana's eyes. The fury in Spencer's. 'I'm certain.'
Belle put her arms around him and pulled herself close to his side. 'Now at least we know who he is. Now we can fight him.'
He nodded slowly.
'What are we going to do?'
'I'm not sure yet, love. There is much to consider.' But he didn't want to think about any of that yet, not when he was still lying in bed with his wife of less than twenty-four hours. Abruptly changing the subject, he kissed her again and asked, 'Did you have a good wedding?'
'Of course,' Belle replied loyally.
'Are you certain?' John hated to think that his haste might have spoiled one of the most magical days in her life. 'You seemed somewhat distraught before the ceremony.'
'Oh,
'Not having second thoughts about me, I hope.' He
'No, of course not,' Belle said, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. 'I never, never even once thought I was making a mistake. I was just a bit at odds with myself because my wedding wasn't exactly how I dreamed it was going to be.'
'I'm sorry,' John said softly.
'No, no, don't be. Just because it wasn't what I thought I wanted doesn't mean it wasn't absolutely perfect. Oh, dear, am I making any sense at all?'
John nodded solemnly.
'I thought that I needed a church and hundreds of guests and music that actually sounded like music, but I was wrong. What I needed was a drunken priest, irreverent guests, and a companion who learned to play piano from a goat.' 'Then you got exactly what you needed.' 'I suppose so. But then again, all I really needed was you.' John leaned down to kiss her again, and they remained thus occupied for the next hour.
As the day wore on, John realized that he was going to have to take some action about George Spencer. He certainly had no desire to sit around and wait for Spencer to finally lodge a bullet in his chest. He'd go crazy if he had to wait patiently for his enemy to make a move. For the sake of his sanity, then, he would need to come up with a plan. The idea of skulking in shadows was distasteful, and he resolved to face the situation head-on and
