“No.” She took his hands and brought them back to the stiff, embroidered garment. “I’m not.”
His hands didn’t move, just rested lightly against her front. Her pulse skittered. Beneath his fingertips, her breasts felt firm and overly sensitive.
A silence stretched between them. His expression steadied and grew serious. “You do know what you’re asking?”
She nodded. “I want you to make me yours.”
For a moment—one split second in time—everything stopped. The rain, the animals’ chattering, Lily’s pulse. When it all started again, she found herself locked in Rand’s arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, a caress so cherishing it made her heart twist painfully in her chest.
At last he pulled back, his fingers returning to her stomacher, less tentative this time. Her own fingers fluttered up to untie his cuffs. Beatrix hiccuped louder. The stiff stomacher made a soft plop as Rand dropped it to the pallet.
Beneath where the stomacher had been, Lily was laced tightly into her bodice. As Rand untied the bow, then went to work on the laces, his gaze strayed to watch Lady flit from the bench and land gracefully beside them.
Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Are you sure we cannot put them outside?”
“You cannot tell me they’re really bothering you.”
He couldn’t back down now.
Suddenly feeling frantic, she tried to free his voluminous shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches. All she wanted, it seemed, was to feel Rand’s skin against her own. He seemed covered with so much fabric. Yards and yards of the frothy white stuff, all standing in her way.
With a pained chuckle he pushed her hands away and drew the shirt off over his head. One smooth, lithe motion that revealed all that warm, tempting skin, reminding her of the day in the drawing room when he’d removed his shirt to wash off the soot from the fire.
Only this time, she could touch him.
She did, running her hands up his chest, feeling the taut skin and the muscles underneath. With a small moan of pleasure, she shifted forward and spread her bodice wide. A soft gasp escaped Rand’s lips as she pressed herself against him, the gossamer material of her chemise the only barrier between their upper bodies.
She released a long, languid sigh. “Heaven,” she murmured.
“Not even close.” Rand lifted the heavy bulk of her double-skirted gown over her head, bringing her chemise along with it…and baring her to his hot gaze.
She’d always anticipated feeling shy and embarrassed in this moment, but with Rand she felt gloriously free. She pressed against him once more. His hard chest felt warm against her nakedness—warm and sensuous as silk. Her breasts tingled, and the ache inside her spread.
“Heaven,” she whispered again.
“Not yet.” His fingers were frantically unlacing his breeches. He rose quickly to push them down and off, but before she could get a proper look he’d dropped to kneel again before her and reached to pull her close.
His arms went around her, and they met, skin to skin, from their shoulders to their knees. His hands splayed on her bare back, pressing her closer. Down low she could feel a hardness, a hardness that made her blood race, a hardness that told her he wanted her as much as she craved him.
“Heaven,” she breathed. “This is really, truly heaven.”
“Sweet Lily, you have no idea.”
As Rand eased Lily to the pallet and came down beside her, Beatrix’s hiccuping intensified. Lady twittered. He swept them with an uneasy glance.
“Rand?” Lily whispered.
Tearing his gaze from the creatures, he kissed her quickly, wildly, then bent his head to let his lips trail down her throat. A hot stab of lust lanced through her. And love. It was all mixed up together, in her head, in her heart, in her body so aware she felt if Rand just kissed her once more she’d explode.
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead his mouth skimmed her breasts and then fastened on one rosy peak. Warm. It felt warm and damp, unbelievably exquisite. Her hands threaded into his hair as he licked his way to her other breast and suckled there until she arched toward him. When he swirled his clever tongue, desire shot to somewhere deep inside. Her fingers fisted in his hair. Suddenly she felt the sensations were more than she could bear.
“Now, Rand.”
He chuckled, sending low vibrations through her. “Slower is better, love. We’ve a long way to go before—”
“Now.”
His head shot up. “Don’t you like this?”
“I like it too much.” Her breath was coming short, and her entire body sang with an awareness she’d never imagined.
But besides all that, the anticipation was killing her.
It had been four years since she and her sisters had huddled here in the summerhouse, secretly reading Aristotle’s Master-piece. The Master-piece had said making love would hurt the first time, and for four years, she had worried about that.
Now it was about to happen, and she wanted to get it over with. She wanted to enter her marriage free of this fretful anxiety.
“Please, Rand, join with me now.”
He hesitated.
“Please.”
She held her breath, watching while he shut his eyes and swallowed hard. “Sweetheart—”
“Please.”
He kissed her once, softly, then opened his eyes and nodded.
Lily’s heart pounded, excitement blending with fear as he began moving over her. Instinctively she raised her knees. Supporting himself on his elbows, Rand took her face in both hands and kissed her while he eased his way between her legs.
He settled against her, fitting there like they were made to go together. An incredible urgency radiated from where his body was poised to enter hers. Her blood pumped faster.
Beatrix let out a long, loud meow.
Rand broke the kiss and froze, only his eyes moving—darting between the cat and the squirrel and the bird, all scattered across the summerhouse.
“I cannot do this,” he gritted out. His eyes settled back
