Page 29 of Midnight Rider

She shook her head. “I’m all right. I just got a little tired while we were dancing, that’s all.”

He looked around them. “It’s lovely here. There’s a rose bower at my grandmother’s home in Granada, and a profusion of blooms swells there in the warmest month. There are orange and lemon trees.”

“Did you take young women there?” she teased.

“Only one, my distant cousin Lupe,” he replied lazily. “And her duenna,” he added with a chuckle. “In Spain, no proper young lady goes anywhere with a gentleman unescorted.”

“You told me that, once.”

“But we are to be married,” he reminded her softly. “And I hardly think this place is conducive to anything frightfully indiscreet. Although,” he added, slowly removing his white gloves, “one never knows. Does one?”

His long, lean fingers traced the delicate line of her lips and then the curve of her soft chin, down her throat along the throbbing artery to her collarbone. They rested there while his head moved closer to hers and she felt his breath on her mouth.

“Bernadette, you make me feel like a giant when I touch you.”

“Why?”

“You melt against me. Your lips lift for mine. Your body inclines toward me. You tremble, and I can hear the very tenor of your breathing.” His fingers trespassed slowly downward and he felt her jump under the intimate caress. “These are things no woman can pretend with a man. You want me very badly. It pleases me that you can’t hide it.”

She laughed nervously. “You are conceited.”

“Not at all. I am...perceptive.” His fingers moved again and his mouth caught the tiny cry that escaped her soft lips.

He kissed her with controlled ardor while his fingers trespassed inside her bodice and caught the hard thrust of her nipple between them. He caressed her. She leaned into him and moaned, clinging to him while his hand smoothed tenderly over the soft flesh.

When he felt her arch helplessly, he withdrew his invading hand and lifted his mouth from hers. He was having trouble breathing, too, and his body was telling him that this couldn’t continue much longer.

He caressed her cheek gently as he searched her misty eyes and found tears glistening in them.

“It will be a good marriage,” he said huskily.

“Yes.”

He stood up abruptly with his back to her as he slipped his white gloves back on. His heart was ramming insistently against his rib cage and he felt swollen. Probably it was visible. He didn’t dare go back into the ballroom until he had himself under better control. The thought of how easily he reacted to Bernadette amused him, and he laughed softly in the stillness of the garden.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, rising to stand beside him.

He looked down at her. “I can’t tell you until we’re married.”

“Oh, I see,” she murmured, glancing down at him and then quickly away with a soft flush. “You think I’m blind.”

He burst out laughing. “You wicked girl!”

She grinned at him mischievously. “And you said that I was responsive.”

“And brazen,” he teased. He linked his hand with hers. “Come. We’ll stroll along through the roses until I can convince my starving body to contain its wicked appetite. I don’t mind you seeing,” he added gently, “but I don’t care to advertise my state to the world at large.”

She wondered at the camaraderie they shared. She’d never dreamed there was a man who could take her through the emotions Eduardo had. They’d been adversaries, friends, conspirators, and soon they would be lovers.

Lovers.

The word ricocheted in her mind, trailing forbidden images. It would be sweet to lie in Eduardo’s arms and let him do what he liked to her body. She knew already that he could give her pleasure in more than one way. But it was the consequence of intimacy that frightened her. It was the specter of pregnancy. She remembered her sister’s agony of long, painful, pitiful hours before she died. She remembered her father’s harsh reminders of her mother’s death at her own birth. The very thought of having a child made her terrified.

But when she looked at Eduardo, the thought of not having one was even sadder. He should have a son to replace the one he’d lost. He was the sort of man who would dote on a child, male or female. He wouldn’t be like her father, blaming her and keeping her at arm’s length for something that wasn’t her fault. He was a fair man. He would be a good father. But she had to get past her fear to entertain even the idea of having a child with him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERESTOFTHEEVENINGWASdelightful and Bernadette moved through it like someone walking on air. Eduardo never left her side, not even when a pretty young Eastern socialite from one of the wealthiest families flirted with him.

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