She said, ‘You are a good man, Tristan Quintrell.’
His mouth twisted. ‘You do not know how hard I am working to remain so! Sleep well, Natalya.’
Closing the final curtain, he blew out the candles until only one on the mantelshelf remained alight. Silently he stripped off his coat and waistcoat and sat down on the armchair to remove his boots. The room was warm, stuffy. He went over to the window and threw up the sash, leaving the curtains drawn back to allow the faint summer breeze to come in.
His body was still thrumming with desire. Even if he had been given the finest feather bed in England, he doubted he would sleep much tonight.
Tristan made himself comfortable in one armchair, resting his feet on the seat of the other, but he could not stop his thoughts wandering to the woman in the bed barely a few feet away. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to drag his mind to something else, but the best he could do was to think of Natalya as he had seen her at her birthday party, dressed in that glittering white gown with her raven hair piled up on her head. In his mind he saw himself reach out and pull the pins from her hair. He watched the heavy locks cascade down over her shoulders like a black waterfall, enveloping him, drowning him...
He must have slept. When he opened his eyes, he realised he was staring at the hearth, a black square outlined by the pale marble surround. He heard his name. A soft whisper, barely more than a sigh. Sleepily he turned his head.
Natalya was standing beside his chair, her naked skin gleaming like ivory in the moonlight.
‘What the devil!’
He scrambled to his feet. He was not dreaming. She was really there, in front of him. Her hair, black as pitch, was loose over her shoulders and a few dark locks hung down over her breasts. He clenched his hands at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and pushing them aside.
‘I cannot sleep.’ Her voice was soft, but powerful as a siren song. She stepped closer. ‘Take me to bed, Tristan.’
Another step and her naked breasts pressed against him. He could feel the warmth of them through his shirt and his breeches were suddenly too tight.
‘Natalya—’
Her hands slipped around his neck, pulling his head closer.
‘You intend to marry me, do you not?’ she whispered the words against his mouth. ‘Then why should we wait?’
It took a supreme effort of will for Tristan not to kiss her. He reached up and pulled her hands away. He held them against his chest and gazed down at her, trying to ignore the allure of her parted lips, the insistent demands of his own body.
‘You are under my protection.’ Dear heaven, he was so on fire he could barely speak. ‘I have vowed to return you safely to your home.’
‘Home!’ She gave a ragged laugh. Even in the dim light of the moon he could see her eyes were swimming with tears. ‘I have no home. Unless it is with you.’
Her voice trembled on a sob and it was too much. His iron will broke. With a groan he took her in his arms, crushing her to him. He kissed her, a hard kiss to which she responded eagerly.
He was on fire, the blood pounding through his body. He raised his head, dragging air into his lungs as he sought to control the raging desire. She lay back against his arm, looking up at him, her black eyes luminous in the moonlight and blazing with a desire to match his own. She was his, not in the eyes of the law, but that would follow. His spirit soared and he felt a primeval urge to throw back his head and howl in triumph.
‘Tristan?’
He smiled down at her, suddenly humbled by her trust in him.
‘Patience, love. This is too important a moment to be hurried.’
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he placed her down gently on the covers. She lay very still, but he was aware that her gaze never left him as he undressed. Her sharp intake of breath when he joined her on the bed suggested she had never seen a naked man before. Her innocence was exciting, but it also sobered him. He must not rush this.
Natalya tensed as Tristan drew her into his arms. She was eager for his touch, but a little frightened, too. Then he kissed her and her fears melted away. She responded, her lips parting, and she relaxed as his mouth worked its magic. She sighed as his lips left hers and began to move over her cheeks, trailing kisses along her jaw. A moan of sheer pleasure escaped her when he nibbled gently at her ear.
His hand caressed her hip, then slowly brushed over her waist, smoothing gently over her skin until he was cupping her breast, his thumb circling the peak that was suddenly hard and aching. She was on fire, shifting restlessly against his touch. Such was the aching pleasure his fingers were wreaking she was only vaguely aware of his lips moving down her neck, placing butterfly kisses along her collarbone. They stopped briefly on the dip at the base of her throat, then moved on down to her breasts and she gasped at the double onslaught as his tongue caressed one hard nub while his thumb continued to pleasure the other.
She sighed and arched her body, offering herself up to him, no longer afraid, but revelling in the sensations he was arousing. Her own tentative caresses became more certain, she ran her hands over his flesh,
