Page 130 of A Woman of Passion

He groaned again, realizing the truth of her words. Their liaison must be kept secret to guard her good name and to protect the children. Reluctantly, he swung his legs from the bed as Bess lit the bedside candles. His eyes began to search out his clothes, scattered in haste across the chamber, but his gaze was drawn back to the woman on the bed. She reached for her bedgown, and he watched her cover her beautiful breasts and shoulders. “If I had my way, I'd never let you get dressed again. I'd keep you naked in a locked chamber whose only furnishing was a bed.”

Bess smiled. “A lavish compliment indeed. Now I'll give you one.” She came around to his side of the bed and sank to the carpet between his naked thighs. “For the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel replete. I enjoy matching you in sensuality. Your body has the ability to satisfy mine, as you always promised me it would, and I thank God for it.”

He cupped her face between his hands. There were so many things he wanted to say, but there was no time. “You are a part of me. When can I come again?”

“Darling, you cannot. June arrives with the dawn. My sons are finished college; they will be home any day. They are far too old and wise for us to pull the wool over their eyes.”

“Hell and damnation!” he swore, searching his brain for a solution to his dilemma. He could feel her lush breasts brush against his testes and he wanted to hold her forever. “I'll make Rufford or Worksop a safe haven for us. I'll send you a note.”

As Shrewsbury rode home in utter frustration, his thoughts were obsessed by the woman he had just left. She might be replete, but he was not, and strangely it had little to do with sex. Making love with Bess most of the night had certainly left him sated, but at this moment he was more dissatisfied than he'd ever been in his life. He wanted to be with her morning, noon, and night. He wanted to talk with her, make her laugh, ride over their acres together, eat with her, bathe with her. He wanted her to share his houses, share his children, share his life. He wanted to carry her to bed every night and wake up every morning with her beside him.

He longed to cover her with jewels, swathe her in fur, and shout to the world that she was his and his alone. He wanted to possess her, body and soul, and he knew he would not know a moment's peace until she fully committed to him and vowed her eternal love. A foul oath fell from Shrewsbury's lips. All Bess wanted was her bloody freedom! She had made him promise they would be lovers and nothing more.

His knees gripped his stallion's belly and his resolve hardened. She thought she could wrap him about her little finger. She had extracted the promise so she would be free to leave him any time she chose, and in a vulnerable moment he had given his word. Well, some promises were made to be broken, and this was one of them. Freedom was the last thing he'd let her have. He would mount a relentless campaign and force her to yield to his wishes. He would be satisfied with nothing less than complete and unconditional surrender.

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