gently, am I not right? At least that is how I always
imagined it would be . . ."
Realization swamped him as she flushed prettily, and he
wanted to throw back his head and laugh. Yet he restrained himself, not wanting
her to think he was making light of her girlish fantasies.
So this timid beauty was a romantic at heart! Then his
instincts about a passionate nature simmering beneath her bashful exterior must
also be right. No doubt she had read plenty of sentimental stories which had
filled her head with all sorts of notions about how a man should court a woman.
Well, he would gladly oblige her, and in ways that before long would send her
scurrying into his arms.
"We have time, my love," he murmured,
reaching up to stroke her hair. It was soft to his touch and smooth, like silk.
It wasn't difficult to imagine threading his fingers through its honeyed
loveliness, or how it might look spread out upon a pillow.
"Oh, I'm so glad, Adam. I'm sure that after a few
months—"
"Months?" he queried sharply, his hand
falling still as he met her astonished gaze. He hadn't said anything about
waiting a few months.
"I . . . I think it would be best," she said
in a rush, her expression clouding. "I've only just returned and . . .
well, I know so little about my home. I'm sure my father would have wanted me
to be comfortable with my surroundings and my new duties as the mistress of
Briarwood before I gave any thought to—to marriage . . ."
Adam pondered her nervous explanation, deciding it was
best to humor her. God help him, it looked as if she might cry if he so much as
shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted. A woman's tears always left
him at a total loss.
He had no intention of waiting that long to marry her,
but he doubted he'd have to. He imagined that her excuses merely masked fears
about marriage, and about the intimacy between husband and wife, which any
innocent young woman would harbor. Yet he knew very well how to allay her
concerns. It would be a pleasurable task indeed, awakening her to the desire
lying dormant within her, while preserving her innocence for the night when he
could call her lawfully his. He doubted she would want to wait long after she
tasted passion.
"We'll take as much time as you need," he
promised, smiling to himself when she seemed pleased with his response.
"There's just one more thing, Adam."
"Yes?"
"Could we keep our courting a secret? Just between
you and me . . . at least until it's time to announce the betrothal? I don't
think it would be proper, considering your bedroom is only a few doors from
mine." She paused, coughing delicately. "You understand, I'm sure. My
reputation . . ."
Adam hadn't expected this request, but again, he
decided to humor her. What harm was there anyway? Probably another girlish
fancy, a secretive courting replete with stolen kisses and furtive glances.
What the hell, he had her consent, which was all that mattered. He would play
her virgin's game.
"Done," he answered, noting a flicker of
relief cross her face, which transposed quickly into a becoming, albeit shy
smile. Mesmerized by the ripe, red fullness of her lips and thinking there
would be no harm in sealing their agreement with a chaste kiss, he leaned
closer. But she coyly dodged him and rose from the bench.
"I think I should go inside, Adam," she said,
glancing toward the house. "It's growing dark and there are some things
I'd like to do . . . make sure my trunks have been properly unpacked, and
perhaps read a little before I retire."
"Of course," he murmured, more disappointed
than he would have thought. As he imagined the day when she would find her
pleasure not in reading before bedtime, but in far more sensual pursuits, he
stood and offered his arm. Pointedly, she refused to take it.
So their secretive game had already begun, he thought with
amusement, escorting a silent Camille past the still, shadowed gardens and into
the house.
"Good night, Mr. Thornton," she said softly,
her eyes
imagined it would be . . ."
Realization swamped him as she flushed prettily, and he
wanted to throw back his head and laugh. Yet he restrained himself, not wanting
her to think he was making light of her girlish fantasies.
So this timid beauty was a romantic at heart! Then his
instincts about a passionate nature simmering beneath her bashful exterior must
also be right. No doubt she had read plenty of sentimental stories which had
filled her head with all sorts of notions about how a man should court a woman.
Well, he would gladly oblige her, and in ways that before long would send her
scurrying into his arms.
"We have time, my love," he murmured,
reaching up to stroke her hair. It was soft to his touch and smooth, like silk.
It wasn't difficult to imagine threading his fingers through its honeyed
loveliness, or how it might look spread out upon a pillow.
"Oh, I'm so glad, Adam. I'm sure that after a few
months—"
"Months?" he queried sharply, his hand
falling still as he met her astonished gaze. He hadn't said anything about
waiting a few months.
"I . . . I think it would be best," she said
in a rush, her expression clouding. "I've only just returned and . . .
well, I know so little about my home. I'm sure my father would have wanted me
to be comfortable with my surroundings and my new duties as the mistress of
Briarwood before I gave any thought to—to marriage . . ."
Adam pondered her nervous explanation, deciding it was
best to humor her. God help him, it looked as if she might cry if he so much as
shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted. A woman's tears always left
him at a total loss.
He had no intention of waiting that long to marry her,
but he doubted he'd have to. He imagined that her excuses merely masked fears
about marriage, and about the intimacy between husband and wife, which any
innocent young woman would harbor. Yet he knew very well how to allay her
concerns. It would be a pleasurable task indeed, awakening her to the desire
lying dormant within her, while preserving her innocence for the night when he
could call her lawfully his. He doubted she would want to wait long after she
tasted passion.
"We'll take as much time as you need," he
promised, smiling to himself when she seemed pleased with his response.
"There's just one more thing, Adam."
"Yes?"
"Could we keep our courting a secret? Just between
you and me . . . at least until it's time to announce the betrothal? I don't
think it would be proper, considering your bedroom is only a few doors from
mine." She paused, coughing delicately. "You understand, I'm sure. My
reputation . . ."
Adam hadn't expected this request, but again, he
decided to humor her. What harm was there anyway? Probably another girlish
fancy, a secretive courting replete with stolen kisses and furtive glances.
What the hell, he had her consent, which was all that mattered. He would play
her virgin's game.
"Done," he answered, noting a flicker of
relief cross her face, which transposed quickly into a becoming, albeit shy
smile. Mesmerized by the ripe, red fullness of her lips and thinking there
would be no harm in sealing their agreement with a chaste kiss, he leaned
closer. But she coyly dodged him and rose from the bench.
"I think I should go inside, Adam," she said,
glancing toward the house. "It's growing dark and there are some things
I'd like to do . . . make sure my trunks have been properly unpacked, and
perhaps read a little before I retire."
"Of course," he murmured, more disappointed
than he would have thought. As he imagined the day when she would find her
pleasure not in reading before bedtime, but in far more sensual pursuits, he
stood and offered his arm. Pointedly, she refused to take it.
So their secretive game had already begun, he thought with
amusement, escorting a silent Camille past the still, shadowed gardens and into
the house.
"Good night, Mr. Thornton," she said softly,
her eyes
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