darkened room to stand in front
of him, uncertain of herself and of the man in the shadows.
Without a word Torr took the little shot glass from her fingers and
poured out a measure of brandy. Then he set down the bottle and picked
up a small object that had been lying on the table nearby. He opened his
hand and Abby saw one of the delicate little yellow roses lying on his palm.
"I was just sitting here thinking of you," Torr murmured. He held out
the rose, waiting for her to take it.
Abby glanced down at the pale object cradled in his large hand and
then she lifted her gaze, trying to read the expression in his amber eyes.
She knew there was a gleaming hunger in those eyes; she could feel it
reaching out to surround her.
"I never pounce, remember?" Torr waited with seemingly unlimited
patience for her to accept the rose.
The hunger wasn't just in him, Abby realized. It was in her as well.
Without a word she put out a hand and touched the rose on his palm.
With great strength and sureness, Torr's fingers closed around hers
before she could remove the rose. And then slowly, inexorably, he drew her
to him.
No, Torr Latimer didn't pounce, Abby thought fleetingly as she obeyed
the masculine summons. He overwhelmed, cradled and engulfed. And
tonight there seemed to be both passion and safety waiting for her in his
crushing embrace.
FIVE
« ^ »
She came into his arms without a whisper of protest. Torr felt his body
tighten and harden at the promise of her. She was so very soft. Soft and
warm and vibrantly alive beneath the prim little flower-spattered
nightgown. For an hour he'd been sitting down here in the darkness,
thinking of her, pondering the mystery of her and the depths of the desire
in himself. He could not remember wanting a woman as badly as he'd
been wanting Abby Lyndon.
She had been almost silent as she had padded down the hall, but his
instincts had leapt into pulsing awareness when he'd sensed her pause
outside his door. In that instant his blood had begun to run heavily in his
veins. The possibility that she might have been heading for his room
stilled his breath.
But she had continued on past his door after shutting it gently and Torr
had forced himself to calm down. Now where would she go? The rose with
which he had been toying seemed to be burning his fingers as he waited
for the next soft sounds. When Abby had reached the bottom of the
staircase and gone straight for the liquor cabinet, Torr had wanted to
laugh. She was within a few feet of him and apparently after the same
thing he'd been after an hour earlier. A little liquid sleep inducer.
The realization that she was almost within reach undid any of the
sleep-promoting effects of the brandy he'd been drinking. And now she
was in his arms. A heady sense of satisfaction and anticipation threatened
to make him rush. It took all his willpower to slow himself down. This had
to be done right. More importantly, it had to be done thoroughly,
completely.
When it was over she would know that she belonged to him.
"Torr?" Her voice was a bare thread of sound. He could feel her tremble
against him and the knowledge that she wanted him acted like the most
incredible aphrodisiac. "Torr, I didn't come downstairs for this. I only
wanted a little brandy. Something to help me sleep."
He smiled down at her, his hands seeking the contour of the small of her
back. "You have a beautiful back, did you know that? Sleek and supple and
very graceful. Like the stalk of a flower."
"Torr, I don't think this is a good idea. Things could get very
complicated if we…if we do this." Her face was buried in his shoulder and
Torr heard the uncertainty in her voice. She was as wary and nervous of
him as ever, but at least she was no longer fighting it as she had in the
beginning. Tonight she needed him, wanted him—perhaps even desired
the protection he could offer.
"Things will only get simpler when we become lovers, Abby. They
of him, uncertain of herself and of the man in the shadows.
Without a word Torr took the little shot glass from her fingers and
poured out a measure of brandy. Then he set down the bottle and picked
up a small object that had been lying on the table nearby. He opened his
hand and Abby saw one of the delicate little yellow roses lying on his palm.
"I was just sitting here thinking of you," Torr murmured. He held out
the rose, waiting for her to take it.
Abby glanced down at the pale object cradled in his large hand and
then she lifted her gaze, trying to read the expression in his amber eyes.
She knew there was a gleaming hunger in those eyes; she could feel it
reaching out to surround her.
"I never pounce, remember?" Torr waited with seemingly unlimited
patience for her to accept the rose.
The hunger wasn't just in him, Abby realized. It was in her as well.
Without a word she put out a hand and touched the rose on his palm.
With great strength and sureness, Torr's fingers closed around hers
before she could remove the rose. And then slowly, inexorably, he drew her
to him.
No, Torr Latimer didn't pounce, Abby thought fleetingly as she obeyed
the masculine summons. He overwhelmed, cradled and engulfed. And
tonight there seemed to be both passion and safety waiting for her in his
crushing embrace.
FIVE
« ^ »
She came into his arms without a whisper of protest. Torr felt his body
tighten and harden at the promise of her. She was so very soft. Soft and
warm and vibrantly alive beneath the prim little flower-spattered
nightgown. For an hour he'd been sitting down here in the darkness,
thinking of her, pondering the mystery of her and the depths of the desire
in himself. He could not remember wanting a woman as badly as he'd
been wanting Abby Lyndon.
She had been almost silent as she had padded down the hall, but his
instincts had leapt into pulsing awareness when he'd sensed her pause
outside his door. In that instant his blood had begun to run heavily in his
veins. The possibility that she might have been heading for his room
stilled his breath.
But she had continued on past his door after shutting it gently and Torr
had forced himself to calm down. Now where would she go? The rose with
which he had been toying seemed to be burning his fingers as he waited
for the next soft sounds. When Abby had reached the bottom of the
staircase and gone straight for the liquor cabinet, Torr had wanted to
laugh. She was within a few feet of him and apparently after the same
thing he'd been after an hour earlier. A little liquid sleep inducer.
The realization that she was almost within reach undid any of the
sleep-promoting effects of the brandy he'd been drinking. And now she
was in his arms. A heady sense of satisfaction and anticipation threatened
to make him rush. It took all his willpower to slow himself down. This had
to be done right. More importantly, it had to be done thoroughly,
completely.
When it was over she would know that she belonged to him.
"Torr?" Her voice was a bare thread of sound. He could feel her tremble
against him and the knowledge that she wanted him acted like the most
incredible aphrodisiac. "Torr, I didn't come downstairs for this. I only
wanted a little brandy. Something to help me sleep."
He smiled down at her, his hands seeking the contour of the small of her
back. "You have a beautiful back, did you know that? Sleek and supple and
very graceful. Like the stalk of a flower."
"Torr, I don't think this is a good idea. Things could get very
complicated if we…if we do this." Her face was buried in his shoulder and
Torr heard the uncertainty in her voice. She was as wary and nervous of
him as ever, but at least she was no longer fighting it as she had in the
beginning. Tonight she needed him, wanted him—perhaps even desired
the protection he could offer.
"Things will only get simpler when we become lovers, Abby. They
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