Page 76 of Megan's Mate
Nathaniel sipped his beer, studied her. “You’re working up to something, Meg. Why don’t you just say it?”
“All right. After you left yesterday, I spent a lot of time thinking. About how I’d feel if you didn’t come back. I knew there’d be a hole in my life. Maybe I’d be able to fill it again, part of the way, but something would always be missing. When I asked myself what that would be, I kept coming up with the same answer. No matter how many ways I looked at it or juggled it around, the answer never changed.”
“So what’s the answer, Meg?”
“You, Nathaniel.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Just you.”
Later, when the sky was dark and the moon floated over the water, she watched the fireworks explode. Color bloomed into color. Waterfalls of glowing sparks rained from sky to water in a celebration of freedom, new beginnings and, Megan thought, hope.
It was a dazzling display that had the children staring upward, wide-eyed and openmouthed. The echoing booms shivered the air until, with a machine-gun crescendo, color and light spewed high in the finale. For a heart-pounding interlude, the sky was bright with golds and reds, blues and blinding whites, circles and spirals, cascades and towers, that shattered into individual stars over the sea.
Long after it was over, the dregs of the party cleared away, the children tucked into bed, she felt the power of the celebration running through her blood. In her own room, she brushed her hair until it flowed over her shoulders. Anticipation vibrating inside her, she belted her borrowed robe loosely at her waist. Quietly she slipped out the terrace doors and walked to Nathaniel’s room.
It hadn’t taken much pressure to persuade him to stay another night. He’d been tired and aching, and he hadn’t relished even the short drive home. But the long soak in the tub hadn’t relaxed him, as he hoped. He was still filled with restless urges, and with flashing images of Megan’s face, lit with the glow of rockets.
Then he stepped into the bedroom and saw her.
She wore a silky robe of deep blue that flowed down her body and clung to her curves. Her hair glinted, golden fire, and her eyes were as dark and mysterious as sapphires.
“I thought you could use a rubdown.” She smiled hesitantly. “I’ve had a lot of experience loosening stiff muscles. With horses, anyway.”
He was almost afraid to breathe. “Where did you get that?”
“Oh.” Self-consciously she ran a hand down the robe. “I borrowed it from Lilah. I thought you’d like it better than terry cloth.” When he said nothing, her nerve began to slip. “If you’d rather I go, I understand. I don’t expect that you’d feel well enough to— We don’t have to make love, Nathaniel. I just want to help.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
Her smile bloomed again. “Why don’t you lie down, then? I’ll start on your back. Really, I’m good at this.” She laughed a little. “The horses loved me.”
He crossed to the bed, touched her hair, her cheek. “Did you wear silk robes to work the stock?”
“Always.” She eased him down. “Roll onto your stomach,” she said briskly. Pleased with the task, she poured liniment into her hands then rubbed her palms together to warm it. Carefully, so that the movement of the mattress didn’t jar him, she knelt over him. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
She started on his shoulders, gently over the bruises, more firmly over knotted muscles. He had a warrior’s body, she thought, tough and tight, and carrying all the marks of battle.
“You overdid it today.”
He only grunted, closing his eyes and letting his body reap the pleasure of her stroking hands. He felt the brush of silk against his skin when she shifted. Drifting through the sharp scent of liniment was her subtle perfume, another balm to the senses.
The aches began to fade then shifted into a deeper, more primal pain that coursed smoothly through his blood when she lowered her lips to his shoulder.
“Better?” she murmured.
“No. You’re killing me. Don’t stop.”
Her laugh was low and soft as she eased the towel from his hips and pressed competent fingers low on his spine. “I’m here to make you feel better, Nathaniel. You have to relax for me to do this right.”
“You’re doing just fine.” He moaned as her hands moved lower, circling, kneading. Then her lips, skimming, whisper soft.
“You have such a beautiful body.” Her own breathing grew heavy as she stroked and explored. “I love looking at it, touching it.” Slowly she took her lips up his spine, over his shoulder again, to nuzzle at his ear. “Turn over,” she whispered. “I’ll do the rest.”
Her lips were there to meet his when he shifted, to linger, to heat. But when he reached up, groaning, to cup her breasts, she drew back.
“Wait.” Though her hands trembled, she freshened the liniment. With her eyes on his, she spread her fingers over his chest. “They put marks on you,” she murmured.
“I put more on them.”
“Nathaniel the dragon slayer. Lie still,” she whispered, and bent close to kiss the scrapes and bruises on his face. “I’ll make it all go away.”
