had been placed before the windows—one to either side and the other sitting at one end
between the other two. A huge square table loaded with candlesticks both fat and tall
covered the glass-topped table.
“I like to light them at night and just sit and watch the light reflected in the
window,” he told her.
Lea looked at him and recognized the loneliness in his tone. “We’ll sit and watch
the light together, milord,” she said.
A grand piano sat in one corner of the room.
“I don’t play,” he said. “Do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” she said. “Not well, but I do play.”
“That’s wonderful!” he said, and hugged her. “I can’t wait to hear you.”
“Well—”
He didn’t give her a chance to finish for he was showing her the rest of the parlor.
There were no curtains on the window, but curious things he called blinds that could be
drawn across to conceal the glass. Finishing out the room in one corner was a tableau of
two very comfortable-looking chairs with footrests flanking a small table with a lamp
where he told her he spent many an hour reading. Behind the chairs on the two
adjacent walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves groaning beneath the weight of many
tomes.
133
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“Most of them came from the lowest level,” he told her, running a hand gently and
respectfully across the spine of a large book. “They’re not mine but I think of them as
belonging to me.”
Before Lea could comment on that, he had grabbed her hand to show her what he
called the galley.
It was a kitchen complete with large stove, an icebox, huge sink and so many
cabinets and so much countertop space it would have done a hotel proud.
Next he took her past the formal dining room with its table large enough to seat
twelve diners, down a short hall to the first bedroom.
“It’s one of two guest rooms but no one’s ever slept there,” he said, tugging her
toward the last room he wanted to show her. “And this is our room.”
Lea’s mouth dropped open. The room was larger than the parlor and in the very
center of one long wall sat the largest bed she’d ever seen.
“It could sleep three people comfortably,” he told her with a wicked gleam in his
eye.
Made of brass, the bed’s headboard and footboard posts had to be as large—or
larger—than her thigh. It was massive with swirls that caught the faint light from the
rainy day. She knew it would be stunning in the full light of the sun.
Though the walls were a pale shade of green she found very pleasing, the rustcolored coverlet on the bed clashed horribly with the green-and-wine-plaid drapes at
the window. The carpeting was a deep burgundy and so plush under the foot she felt as
though she were sinking into it. She knew the only thing she’d change would be the
horrendous coverlet.
“And in here’s the bathing room!” he said, his eyes bright.
Nothing could have prepared her for the opulence of the bathing chamber. As large
as her mother’s parlor had been when Lea still lived at home, the room was tiled in a
paler shade of green than the bedchamber walls, and the floor was tiled in dark green
with flecks of gold running through the pattern. A black marble tub large enough to fit
four people sat in one corner beside a glassed-in area Bevyn labeled the shower. The
necessary was a beautiful black marble fixture with a handle he told her had been cast
from pure gold. Dual black marble sinks had been sunken into a long counter with a
mirror that covered nearly one entire wall behind the golden faucets.
“It is amazing,” Lea breathed.
“Now, time’s wasting. Let’s have sex,” he said, dragging her back through the
bathing room.
“What?”
He pulled her to the bed, scooped her up and tossed her to the center of the bed,
ripping off his shirt as she bounced on the mattress. Buttons pinged against the wall.
“Bevyn!” she chastised.
134
Her Reaper’s Arms
He was hopping on one foot as he yanked off a boot. “Sex,” he said. “We’re going
to have sex. No argument.”
She lay there braced on her elbows with her legs splayed, skirt hiked up to her
knees, watching him discard his clothing, and when he was entirely naked, before he
could throw himself on her, she held up a hand.
“What?” he whined.
“Why didn’t you just poof your clothes away, Reaper?” she asked, trying not to
laugh at his expression.
Bevyn’s eyebrows slashed together then he slapped his forehead with the base of
one palm. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think of that!”
She lay down and held her arms up to him. “Come here, you bad man.”
The Reaper grinned so manically, she could not keep from laughing as he came
crashing down on her, pressing her to the bed as he fumbled her skirts up higher and
cupped her between her thighs.
“Gods-be-damned bloomers! What a fucking nuisance!” he snarled, and in one lithe
movement divested her of the offending garment, ripping them as they caught on the
heel of her slipper.
He snatched off her slippers, tore off her stockings and nudged her legs apart, his
hand going to her breast. His head swiveled toward the clock on the bedside table.
“Forty minutes. I’ve got forty minutes.”
Lea reached both hands to his face and turned his head toward her. “Bevyn,” she
said in a reasonable voice. “It only takes ten minutes to fully satisfy a woman. In forty,
you could bend our world, my love.”
“But it’ll have to last us, wench,” he said, his eyes filled with pleading. “I’ll be gone
a week and—”
“I will miss you every second you are away but when you return, just imagine how
intense the reunion will be,” she said calmly.
“Intense?” he echoed.
“Very intense,” she said. “Now slow down and make love—not sex—to your
woman.”
She could feel his heart slamming against his chest, the heated pulsing of his erect
cock stabbing against her stomach as he slid gently down her until he was lying
between her thighs, nudging her legs farther apart. His hand shook as he softly
kneaded her breast.
“I love you,” he said, his heart in his gaze.
“I know, milord,” she said. “And your love is returned a
