When Love Awaits by Johanna Lindsey Page B

She would rather cut out her tongue than flatter his vanity. If he wanted praise, he could find it elsewhere—as no doubt he did, often.
    “You would be bored to hear it, my lord, the list is so long.”
    Leonie was delighted to hear him chuckle at her jibe.
    “Dearling, there is nothing about you that displeases me. You are a mite small, but I think I like even that.”
    Oh, cruel lies! You do not send away what pleases you.
    “You did not want a wife.”
    “Why do you say so?”
    “Is it a sign of a happy groom to drink himself into forgetfulness?”
    “In truth,” he said uncomfortably, “I was reluctant to force myself on you after being told why you were hiding beneath your veil.”
    Leonie was surprised, not surprised that he knew she had been beaten—her father would have been forced to admit that—but surprised to know he’d been acting out of consideration for her. Rolfe destroyed that illusion in a moment, however. “And what little I knew about you before the wedding was not flattering.”
    “I see,” she said coldly. “Then I assume it was not my person you were interested in.”
    “Few marriages begin differently.”
    “True. But few progress as ours did. You did not want a wife.”
    “What I found distasteful, Leonie,” he said in a burst of honesty, “were my reasons for marrying you. Anger led me to offer for you, and soon there was no way out. But it was time I took a wife.”
    She did not reply, and Rolfe was mystified. He’d told her the whole truth. What was there left to say?
    He moved her chin upward gently, coaxing her to look at him. “Is it not enough that, whatever the reason we married, I am now well pleased?”
    “You sent me away,” she said after all, in a small voice, surprising herself.
    “A mistake,” he said huskily, and began to bring his head toward hers.
    “But—” She was so confused! “Do you tell me—is this why you brought me back here? To begin anew?”
    “Yes. Oh, yes, dearling.”
    He breathed the declaration against her mouth, and then he kissed her. He had never been so completely attuned to a woman before, nor experienced such relief when she yielded. The moment he felt her relax against him, he began his assault in earnest. But he did not forget her inexperience, knowing he must go slowly.
    Leonie was kissed a dozen different ways in the long minutes that followed, from soft nibbles to deep probing that played havoc with her insides, spinning her up and down. In a second she would be giddy, then there was only sweet lassitude, and then she was soaring dizzily again.
    She did not know when her robe melted away, but she was acutely aware of the first touch of Rolfe’s hand on her bared breasts. It seemed right for his hand to be there, resting on her with only the slightest pressure. When his hand began to move softly over her, the hand seemed to grow hotter. Her nipples hardened against gentle kneading.
    She turned, one hand slipping behind Rolfe’s back, the other stroking his shoulder. Her fingers splayed out, wanting to touch, thrilling to the play of muscle beneath skin, the hardness of him. She returned his kisses, exerting her own pressure now, daring him.
    Gently he laid her on the bed beside him, and before her head even touched the pillow, his mouth had fastened on one rosy-peaked breast, his tongue doing what his fingers had done before.
    He began a thorough exploration of the soft planes of her belly and thighs, coming closer and closer to the core of her womanhood until such a terrible yearning was built in her that she arched upward to meethis exploring hand. When he slipped his long fingers into her warmth, she moaned, her head thrust back. Her fingers closed in his hair, pressing him closer to her.
    Few men had ever treated a woman with such reverence. The hands that touched her were worshipful, soothing, and exciting all at once.
    Rolfe’s tongue slid down the valley of her breasts and over her belly to mount her pubic mound and