Page 46 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

He withdrew, then gently eased into her again. His groans echoed round the room drowning out the tempest outside. His expression was a study in ecstasy.

Her arms flung back, watching this man take his pleasure in her, Violetta felt like a goddess laid out for a feast. Nothing mattered any more but Leo. So she did as he’d asked, she stopped thinking, and gave herself up to passion.

For the first time in his life, Leo wasn’t thinking either.

Just feeling.

The heat of this woman, the urgent clench of her muscles around him nearly drove him over the edge.

His every instinct screamed for him to thrust, but he wanted to make this last. He wanted to watch the minutiae of every emotion chasing over Violetta’s face. The wonder and the bliss, and the absolute focus.

This evening had been meant as a treat for her. And for him, a light-hearted thing to douse the heat of their earlier encounter. To make it a physical thing only and calm the emotional tempest it had unleashed in him.

Absorbed by the task of setting candles in this room, searching the costume gallery for the perfect dress, he’d almost convinced himself he’d succeeded. But when she’d appeared at the top of the stairs...

He wanted her and there were so many reasons, good, honest reasons, why he could not have her.

He touched her with extreme care, as if she might break beneath him. She felt precious, a rare treasure, almost too fine for the likes of him. The world outside might be imploding but in here, tonight, with him, she would be safe.

Later, she retrieved the ballet shoes, donned his shirt and danced for him.

As candle after candle fluttered and died and the room filled with shadows, Leo watched.

His trousers back on, but still barefoot and bare-chested, he sat, his legs spread wide, his arms stretched out along the chair back, and watched his fill of her.

She held nothing back, her hair flying loose as she swirled and leapt across the space.

Every sweep of her hand was like her touch across his skin. Leo felt it to his core as if she danced through his soul. The arabesques, the leaping splits, the strength of her supple body, he wanted to cleave it all to him. He watched as she danced, then laughed and goofed around, until he couldn’t stand not touching her and went to her.

He closed his hands about her waist. She sank against him, kissed him like the angel she was, and a storm of longing, wild as the chaos outside, surged through him. A need to capture this moment and keep a piece of it with him for ever.

Because he knew these hours, as impermanent and insubstantial as the guttering candlelight, were all they could have.

CHAPTER NINE

LEOWOKETOa strange new sensation.

A woman in his arms, deeply asleep. Her head tucked beneath his chin, her hair across his chest, her legs tangled in his.

On the floor beside the couch the scatter of clothes told its own story. The iconic dress was a forgotten pile of feathers. His waistcoat, shirt and trousers lay in a heap, and, feet away, his bow tie, flung there by this woman’s hands.

His arms were wrapped protectively around her. His sleeping self had wanted to hold her...his waking self was also loath to let go.

Leo drew her closer.

But the world beyond the ballroom was intruding, because the storm had finally blown itself out, allowing other sounds to reach him. Feet on the gravel close to the house. The voices of his security team calling instructions back and forth, a helicopter approaching.

Leo lay there, not moving, wanting to preserve this moment for a little longer. To pretend he lived in a world where he and Violetta could both have what they wanted.

He turned his cheek against her hair.

Impossible, but also for the best.

The storm had passed both inside and out and he’d weathered them both. This...whatever it was...was done. He might have taken her virginity, but he wouldn’t be taking her grand duchy.

He couldn’t. It would be morally wrong and, despite what his father had wanted, Leo finally understood he’d never truly be that man and he was glad of it.

Friedrich von Frohburg had been a tyrant, coveting the grand duchy for all the wrong reasons.

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