By Arrangement by Madeline Hunter Page B

what he was going to do. She remembered Stephen's crushing grip and tensed, almost finding her senses, almost finding the strength to push him away.
    But he did not crush her. His fingers stroked aroundthe edge of her breast in a gentle, delicate way, tantalizing her to an excruciating anticipation of she knew not what. Her breath quickened to a series of short gasps as her whole body waited.
    When he finally caressed her breast, she bit back a moan. The pleasure startled her. She tried to pull away.
    He would not let her go. Kissing her beautifully, caressing her softly, he summoned delicious feelings. His fingers touched her as if no cloth lay between them and her skin, finding her nipple and playing with it until that throbbing sensation low by her thighs became almost unbearable. He took the yearning hard bud between his thumb and finger and rubbed gently. This time she could not catch the small cry before it escaped her.
    His mouth went to her ear and kissed and probed before his quiet voice flowed into her.
    “Come back to my house with me. It is but a few minutes from here through the gate.”
    “Why?” she muttered, still floating in the sensual stupor that his hand created.
    “Why? For one thing you should visit and meet the people who live there,” he said, lifting his head to kiss her temple and brow. His hand still caressed her and she found it hard to pay attention to what he said. “For another, I am too old to make love behind trees and hedges.”
    Naming what they were doing intruded like a loud noise on a dream. The sounds of the races instantly thundered around her. His hand on her body suddenly felt scandalous. Burning with shame, she looked away.
    “This is wrong,” she said.
    “Nay. It is very right.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    His hand fell away from her breast, but still he held her.
    “Did your lover give you such pleasure?” he asked softly.
    She blushed deeper. She could not look at him.
    “I thought not.”
    “It was different,” she said accusingly. “We are in love. This is …is…” What? What was this horrible, wonderful thing?
    “Desire,” he said.
    So this was desire. No wonder the priests always preached against it. Desire seemed a very dangerous thing indeed.
    “Well, girl, if I had to have one without the other, I would choose this,” he said. “Desire can grow into something more, but if it isn't there at the beginning it never comes, and love dies without it.”
    He was lecturing her like a child again. She truly resented when he did that. “This is wrong,” she repeated firmly, pushing a little, putting some distance between their bodies. “You know it is. You are luring me. It isn't fair.”
    “Luring you? Why would I do that?”
    “Who knows why you do any of this? Why offer for me in the first place? Why pay the bride price?” She studied him. “Maybe you want to bed me so that when he comes, the betrothal cannot be annulled.”
    “It is a good idea. But that never occurred to me, because I know that he is not coming.”
    He had said that since the first night. Calmly, relentlessly he had repeated it. “You cannot know that,” she snapped. But there had been something in his voice this time that terrified her. As if he did know. Somehow.
    “He is not here, Christiana. He has had your message a long time now.”
    “Perhaps not. Maybe the messenger couldn't find him.”
    “I have spoken with the messenger whom you hired. He delivered the letter into the hands of the man to whom you sent it ten days after you wrote it.”
    “You spoke … you interfered in this? How dare you!”
    “It is well that I did. Your messenger had no intention of leaving at once for your mission. He planned to wait until other business took him north. It could have been weeks. Even then he might have handed it off to any number of other people along the way and spared himself the trip.”
    “But he went at once for you? And delivered it directly?”
    “I paid him a lot