His hand squeezed hers. “No one will be coming out in the rain to look for us, will they?”
The way he said that made a shiver of another sort run through her.
Summer rain blew in when he pushed open the door. They made a run for it, Rand holding Lily with one hand and the champagne bottle with the other. After crossing the courtyard to the outbuildings, they finally ducked into the dairy.
Though Rand shut the door against the rain, it still pattered on the roof and slashed against the dairy’s diamond-paned windows. Lily remembered peeking in here once and seeing a dairymaid with a pockmarked face and a pretty, shy smile.
She glanced around the small room. “Where is everyone?”
“Inside, helping with the wedding. No one will interrupt us.” He grinned. “Even Beatrix failed to make it out here.”
The walls were plain and whitewashed. Lily turned in a slow circle, her shoes leaving wet prints on the red tile floor. Pails, pans, and strainers sat on a wide marble counter supported on legs that ended in cows’ hooves. She hugged herself, smiling at the whimsy.
“Cold?” Rand asked.
“A little. There’s no fire.”
“I’ll warm you up,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt how he planned to accomplish that end. He set the champagne bottle on the marble surface with a definitive clunk.
A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “I hope you’re not planning to warm me up too effectively. There’s no bed, either.”
“I plan to warm you effectively indeed.” Both hands on her waist, he lifted her to sit on the counter. “And we’ve no need of a bed.”
The marble felt cold beneath her skirts, but Rand’s fingers felt warm on her shoulders as he maneuvered himself closer, working his way between her knees. When he looked pointedly down, her gaze followed, her heart hitching as she saw how it could work.
“I guess we don’t need a bed,” she whispered as his mouth descended on hers.
His lips were gentle and cherishing, and when he coaxed her mouth open, his tongue was gentle, too, exploring as though he had all the time in the world, as though he wanted nothing more than to taste her thoroughly, to commit her texture to memory.
She felt drugged. The pitter-pat of rain blended with her breathy sighs, blocking out the rest of the world. Here and now, it seemed there was only she and Rand and their love.
Easing away, he took her hands and raised them to his lips. Slowly he kissed the palms and the backs and the fine white scars.
“Don’t flinch,” he murmured when she did. Looking down, he traced the webbed patterns with a fingertip. “They’re beautiful, because they’re part of you.”
Her throat closed with emotion, but she managed a shaky smile. “They remind me that I’m imperfect, which I suppose is not such a bad thing.”
“It’s a good thing you have one flaw.” He kissed her nose and then her mouth, tiny damp kisses. “I’d feel damned inferior living with perfection.”
Something twisted in her heart. “There were times when I feared you’d never be living with me at all.”
“Never say never,” he murmured, reaching for the champagne bottle. He tipped his head back and took a sip, then bent to nuzzle her throat. The wine fizzed in the hollow beneath her chin. She arched her neck, the combination of cold, bubbly liquid and warm, soft mouth sending shivers rippling through her.
As he nibbled his way up to her ear and drew the tender lobe between his teeth, she threaded her fingers into his hair. A soft groan rose from his chest, and suddenly he was kissing her again, more demanding now, nipping on her bottom lip before his mouth crushed hot against hers.
Instantly a matching heat flared up inside her. It had been there, building all day, and now it flamed to life. Her heart thundering, she gave as much as she took, a reckless meshing of lips and tongues and teeth that made her blood race with excitement. When he finally broke away, she was breathless.
She worked her hands beneath his surcoat as he flicked open the tabs that attached her stomacher. He dropped frantic kisses on her cheeks, her chin, her neck, and the expanse of trembling skin afforded him by the wide, low neckline of her saffron gown. With her stomacher removed, he loosened her laces and spread her bodice. Hooking the lacy edge of her chemise with a finger, he dragged it down, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze.
Once more he reached for the champagne, tilting his head back to take a mouthful. Then he leaned forward and fastened his mouth on a sensitive peak.
The wine was cold and tingly, his mouth hot and emphatic. The combination robbed her of thought. Her senses reeled wildly as drops of champagne trickled free and he followed them with his tongue, leaving warm trails of sensation. She trembled with need, an urgent ache growing within her.
“Now,” she breathed, and he shot her a wicked smile, reaching down to ruck up her skirts. His fingers danced up her legs, grazing the delicate skin on her inner thighs. The ache grew unbearable, and she gripped his shoulders. “Rand, we’ve waited long enough, days and days—”
“Hush,” he whispered, reaching higher, brushing against where she ached. Then stroking, over and over, slipping a finger inside and back out to stroke more. His mouth slanted against hers again and again as his hands worked magic. Her eyes drifted shut, and she locked her arms behind his neck, tremors shimmering through her. The sweet torture continued until she was certain one more velvet stroke would be her undoing.
“Rand!” she cried out.
Suddenly their four hands were tearing at the laces that secured his breeches. And at long last he pulled her close and buried himself inside her.
Her arms and legs went around him, welcoming, squeezing tight. It had felt like forever, all those days they couldn’t be together. Tears welled in her eyes
