Page 78 of Wild Hearts

He nodded. "I think the beard frightened you a little. Come and eat something." He moved a small table before the fire and lifted the silver covers from three great platters. There was a baked salmon stuffed with herbs, grouse cooked in red wine, and a small rack of lamb. She took a small portion of salmon but left it untouched on her plate. Paris didn't take his eyes from her. He couldn't remember taking such pleasure in just looking before.

"Eat something, darling," he urged.

"I cannot eat with your eyes upon me."

"Then I'll feed you." He moved to her side of the table and scooped her up into his lap. He fed her the salmon and insisted she have some slices of meat.

"No more. I'll watch you."

He ate with relish, enjoying the food before him, then poured them both wine.

"You have a true man's appetite." She smiled.

"In all things," he assured her. When their eyes met across the goblets, she dropped her eyelashes demurely because of the naked desire she saw in him. "I'll tell Mrs. Hall to order you water for your bath. I have things that must be attended to, but I promise I won't be gone long. We have a lot of catching up to do." He pulled on soft thigh boots and carelessly selected two rings from his jewel case.

By the time he returned, she had bathed and chosen a white nightgown with tiny pleats that cleverly concealed and revealed her lovely curves with each movement. He reached out and took the pins from her hair so that it tumbled around her shoulders in wild abandon. He wanted to crush her to him, to bury his face in the fiery mass, but instead he reached for her hand and drew her to the mirror.

"See how beautiful you are?" he whispered. He held her from behind, so they were both reflected. "Tonight we look like lovers," he breathed against her hair. "We'll stand and gaze into the mirror every night to see how we have changed."

"I had no idea you were such a romantic," she teased. "You must have caught it from the honeymoon couple."

"Honeymoon— it comes from the French. The aristocracy in France shut the couple in the bride's bedchamber for a month. They see no one else in all that time. Food is left outside the door."

"Whatever do they do for a whole month?"

He turned her so he could look down into her eyes. "They get to know each other very, very intimately," he replied softly, and laughed at her blushes. He took off his doublet and then removed his shirt. She trembled visibly. "You are cold, love. I'll see if I can get the fire to blaze."

She glanced at him as he knelt before the fire. He did strange things to her composure; always had, since the moment she had clapped eyes on him. She loved him madly but had never dared to show it, because she feared his physical response to her. Now she moved toward him by the fire. She took pleasure in gazing at the wide, naked shoulders before her. He turned and caught her staring at him. She saw his chest now, and his maleness was so overpowering, she could almost taste it.

"When you look at me, I can hardly breathe," she confessed.

"You take my breath away, too, sweetheart."

She looked like she might flee, so he suggested they roast some chestnuts. As he held the long-handled pan over the flames, a delicious smell arose. When they were well roasted, they each tried to pick one up to peel, but they burned their fingers. He put her fingertips to his lips to kiss away the burn.

"Are you not cold without your shirt?" she asked, not really knowing what she said.

"I'm never cold, feel me," he invited.

Her hand rested on his shoulder, then slipped to his chest. He groaned and reached for her. His lips brushed hers gently, softly; he murmured her name against her lips, then other love words, driving him mad with desire. She was faint from the exquisite sensations all so new and pleasurable. She melted into his arms; the chestnuts lay scattered and forgotten.

"Say my name," he whispered. "I want to taste it on your lips."

"Paris," she breathed, and he kissed her again and again, until her lips were swollen with passion.

Every instinct drove him toward possession; but he stayed his hands from exploring her body further, knowing full well if he did not stop now, his passion would be beyond his control. He tried for a light tone, but his voice was ragged with desire. "Come to bed, I want to hold you." He lifted her against his heart and carried her to his big bed. "Instinct tells me you should sleep on this side." He smiled down as he deposited her against the pillows.

"Why?"

"Your side is nearest the fire, and mine is nearest the door, in case of danger." He blew out the lamp before he removed the rest of his clothing, so that he would not expose his ugly thigh scar to her this night. He knew it would increase his agony to feel her against him, but he reached out, anyway; and drew her to his naked body.

She felt him hard and hot, pressed down the length of her. As his arms tightened, she felt all his body's strength; the powerful legs, the massive shoulders, and she shuddered with anticipation at what he was about to do to her. He felt her tremble and realized he would need a will of iron not to plunge into her and take all the sweetness for which he thirsted, but he had promised to wait until she yielded to him. Her heartbeat quickened and her pulses beat wildly as she lay with her cheek against his chest. She could hear and feel his heart beating so strong and loud, she instantly realized the effect she was having on him. She smiled into the darkness. His wildly beating heart told her better than words that he was in love with her. She felt a deep thrill go through her. She knew he wanted her immediately but was curbing his desire to please her. It came to her suddenly that she wanted him. Here in the bed. She wanted to explore him and feel every part of him, from the great slabs of muscle in his back to the fiery loins from which rose that burning shaft.

Shyly, she reached out to him, but she could not bring her fingers to close around his hardness. She reached her hands up behind his head instead, to feel the crisp curls that lay on his neck, and as she reached her lips to him, he met her more than halfway and took her mouth in a demanding kiss that led to a hundred more.

He held her more gently now, tucking her head under his chin. "Sleep now, Tabrizia, sleep." He lay looking up into the darkness and offered a silent prayer: Dear God, do not give me anything more; just do not take anything away!

She awoke slowly, coming to the surface of consciousness drowsily. She had never felt so safe and warm in bed before. Then she realized Paris held her from behind, cradled in his massive arms. She could not believe that he had kept his word to the letter. She was still clad in her nightgown, although it gave little protection from the hot, muscular male body pressed against hers. She stirred and tried to slip from his embrace without awakening him, but his arms tightened and drew her back as he said quite firmly, "No!"

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