Page 39 of Lady of Charade

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Seeing the candle’s flame, she peeked through the shelf, planning on walking around to greet the newcomer once she determined his or her identity, but then suddenly another pair of eyes met hers, and she stumbled backward in surprise, her head banging into the shelf behind her.

She was still rubbing it, trying to ignore the sting of tears that threatened, when warm, strong hands encircled her arms.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up into David’s eyes, and a feeling of safety and security rushed through her.

She was all right because she was here — with him. Which was exactly why she had been determined to stay away for so long.

“I’m fine,” she said instead, stepping away from him, putting some space between them. “I should have told you I was in here but I was unsure who had joined me. My apologies.”

“This is a welcome surprise,” he said with a soft smile. “I have been trying to get you alone for some time now, but you keep avoiding me.”

“Not on purpose,” she lied, looking down at her hands, and he put a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face up to look at his.

“Why will you not speak to me?” he asked softly.

“Because…” she looked around, as though she would find something that would prevent her from having to answer this question. “Because you scare me.”

“Iscareyou?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I cannot say any woman has ever said such a thing to me before.”

“Well, I am not like other women,” she said resolutely, attempting to ignore the jealousy that filled her at the mention of such women.

“You certainly are not,” he acknowledged, though the way he said it, she wasn’t sure whether she should feel complimented or insulted. He reached out and took her hand in his, and only then did she notice that he was in his nightwear, a gold wrapper pulled tightly around him.

“You match the house,” she murmured before she even realized what she was saying, and he laughed.

“I suppose I do. It is rather gaudy, isn’t it?”

“Your wrapper or the house?”

“Both.”

It was her turn to laugh. If nothing else, David certainly knew how to bring humor to every situation. “The house is beautiful, but it is slightly ostentatious, yes. I must admit that I am still becoming used to such surroundings, having grown up in a one-bedroom cabin.”

David reached a hand out, taking her bare fingers within his, and she wanted to pull her hand back at the tremors that ran through her from his touch. Before she could do so, however, he began to caress them, and it was so lovely she allowed herself to relax into it for a moment.

“None of this can compare to your own beauty.”

“Stop,” she whispered, not wanting to hear his contrived words, but he tugged slightly on her hand to capture her attention once more.

“I am serious,” he said, punctuating each word in emphasis. “You possess a natural beauty that I have never seen in any other before.”

“Is that a line?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “One you use on all of your women?”

“I have no other women,” he said, and when she looked up at him, it seemed as though his words were genuine. Sarah bit her lip. She should run from this room, leaving him and his words of love behind her. But instead, when he stroked her cheek with his fingertips until he cupped her face, she looked up at him, met his eyes, and gave into the kiss he offered. The moment his lips touched hers, her body began to quicken, responding to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as his came around her back.

Was it ridiculous to feel as though she was coming home? His hard, strong body against hers almost felt like a symbol of reassurance, a pillar of strength — a reminder that she no longer had to feel completely alone, but that he was here for her and she could face whatever approached with someone by her side to support her.

One of his arms moved down to come underneath her knees, lifting her up in his arms, and he carried her over through the shelves to the large leather library chairs where she had been sitting but moments before. He sat down upon it, lifting her so that she was upon his lap. When one of his hands dug into her hair, which flowed around her shoulders, she felt tingles from his touch, which then ran down her spine.

This would be the last time with him, she promised herself, the vow only increasing the intensity of her kiss. The last time she would give herself to him, take all that he had to offer her.

So she was shocked when he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers, their breath intermingling.

“You should be sleeping,” he said as he kissed her forehead and then drew her head against his chest. She leaned into him, taking his warmth and comfort.

“I should be — and so should you,” she said, and he chuckled.