wished she
could stand there forever and let the splashing liquid drive away all
her tormenting thoughts, but she couldn't afford to anger Shane. She
was completely at his mercy now and she shuddered at the thought of
what he might do if she tried to deny him anything.
She dried herself quickly with the big soft bath towel and
slipped into the nightie and peignoir. They billowed around her like a
cloud, concealing everything from her neck to the soles of her feet as
long as she didn't take off the peignoir. The nightie, however, was
low-cut and sexy. She brushed out the complicated coiffure and let her
hair swirl naturally around her shoulders.
Shane wasn't in the bedroom when she opened the door and
relief swept through her. Then she noticed that the French door was
partially open and knew he was on the balcony. She headed toward it and
saw him in the moonlight, leaning against the wrought-iron railing
smoking a cigarette. He must have heard her because he turned and said,
"Don't come out here—it's chilly."
He snuffed out his cigarette and came back into the room,
his eyes cloudy with desire as he looked at her. He reached out his
hand and she involuntarily took a step backward. He quirked one eyebrow
and grinned. "Now that you're all fresh and clean I can't very well
climb into bed with you till I shower, too, can I?"
She gave him a weak smile and he headed toward the
bathroom.
Karen looked at the king-size bed. She'd never seen one
quite so big. The sheets and pillow cases were yellow and when she ran
her hand across them she found they were satin. Imagine her, Karen
Muir, sleeping between satin sheets with a stranger. But she was Karen
McKittrick now and Shane was no stranger—he was her husband.
Then why did she feel this urgent desire to run, hide, get as far away
as possible? Had she made a monstrous mistake?
She crawled in on the far side of the bed without
bothering to remove her peignoir. Maybe Shane wouldn't notice. She lay
down and pulled the covers around her shoulders. The mattress was soft
and shaped itself to her curves, but she couldn't relax.
The bathroom door opened and she stiffened. It was too
late now—there would be no more stalling, no turning back. In
a few minutes she would belong to Shane, permanently and irrevocably,
whether he wanted her or not!
He was wearing only a towel draped around his hips and he
removed it before he got into bed beside her. He turned toward her and
took her in his arms. He ran his hand across her shoulder, down her
arm, and cupped it around her breast. Her heart was pounding but not
with passion— with fear! Did she really want to give herself
to this man who could arouse her so easily but whose only purpose in
doing so was to get her pregnant—and then to leave her?
He nuzzled her neck and murmured, "Do you always wear so
many clothes to bed? Don't you think we could do without four or five
layers?"
She swallowed. "I—I didn't want to get cold."
His long fingers were undoing the tiny buttons of the
filmy peignoir. "I promise I won't let you be cold. Sit up a minute and
slip your arms out of these sleeves."
She sat up and took off the peignoir and Shane pulled her
back down and buried his face in the exposed valley between her small
firm breasts. It took real effort not to pull away as his lips took
liberties that had never been taken with her before. Her hands
tightened into fists as he raised his head and smiled.
"Is that nightgown stapled to you or can it be removed?"
Her voice wavered as she replied with a question. "Aren't
you going to turn off the light?"
"No, I want to look at you." He was slowly drawing the
nightie up around her legs.
She pulled away and snapped. "Please, don't do that!
I—I'd rather leave it on."
Shane propped himself up on his elbow and his brown eyes
searched her face. "Karen, what's wrong? You're trembling. Are you
afraid of me?"
Afraid! How could she tell him she was terrified! Maybe if
she did he would leave her alone.
could stand there forever and let the splashing liquid drive away all
her tormenting thoughts, but she couldn't afford to anger Shane. She
was completely at his mercy now and she shuddered at the thought of
what he might do if she tried to deny him anything.
She dried herself quickly with the big soft bath towel and
slipped into the nightie and peignoir. They billowed around her like a
cloud, concealing everything from her neck to the soles of her feet as
long as she didn't take off the peignoir. The nightie, however, was
low-cut and sexy. She brushed out the complicated coiffure and let her
hair swirl naturally around her shoulders.
Shane wasn't in the bedroom when she opened the door and
relief swept through her. Then she noticed that the French door was
partially open and knew he was on the balcony. She headed toward it and
saw him in the moonlight, leaning against the wrought-iron railing
smoking a cigarette. He must have heard her because he turned and said,
"Don't come out here—it's chilly."
He snuffed out his cigarette and came back into the room,
his eyes cloudy with desire as he looked at her. He reached out his
hand and she involuntarily took a step backward. He quirked one eyebrow
and grinned. "Now that you're all fresh and clean I can't very well
climb into bed with you till I shower, too, can I?"
She gave him a weak smile and he headed toward the
bathroom.
Karen looked at the king-size bed. She'd never seen one
quite so big. The sheets and pillow cases were yellow and when she ran
her hand across them she found they were satin. Imagine her, Karen
Muir, sleeping between satin sheets with a stranger. But she was Karen
McKittrick now and Shane was no stranger—he was her husband.
Then why did she feel this urgent desire to run, hide, get as far away
as possible? Had she made a monstrous mistake?
She crawled in on the far side of the bed without
bothering to remove her peignoir. Maybe Shane wouldn't notice. She lay
down and pulled the covers around her shoulders. The mattress was soft
and shaped itself to her curves, but she couldn't relax.
The bathroom door opened and she stiffened. It was too
late now—there would be no more stalling, no turning back. In
a few minutes she would belong to Shane, permanently and irrevocably,
whether he wanted her or not!
He was wearing only a towel draped around his hips and he
removed it before he got into bed beside her. He turned toward her and
took her in his arms. He ran his hand across her shoulder, down her
arm, and cupped it around her breast. Her heart was pounding but not
with passion— with fear! Did she really want to give herself
to this man who could arouse her so easily but whose only purpose in
doing so was to get her pregnant—and then to leave her?
He nuzzled her neck and murmured, "Do you always wear so
many clothes to bed? Don't you think we could do without four or five
layers?"
She swallowed. "I—I didn't want to get cold."
His long fingers were undoing the tiny buttons of the
filmy peignoir. "I promise I won't let you be cold. Sit up a minute and
slip your arms out of these sleeves."
She sat up and took off the peignoir and Shane pulled her
back down and buried his face in the exposed valley between her small
firm breasts. It took real effort not to pull away as his lips took
liberties that had never been taken with her before. Her hands
tightened into fists as he raised his head and smiled.
"Is that nightgown stapled to you or can it be removed?"
Her voice wavered as she replied with a question. "Aren't
you going to turn off the light?"
"No, I want to look at you." He was slowly drawing the
nightie up around her legs.
She pulled away and snapped. "Please, don't do that!
I—I'd rather leave it on."
Shane propped himself up on his elbow and his brown eyes
searched her face. "Karen, what's wrong? You're trembling. Are you
afraid of me?"
Afraid! How could she tell him she was terrified! Maybe if
she did he would leave her alone.
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