Craving Beauty(32)

She slapped his hand away. "What look? And don't try to get back in my   good graces. I want to enjoy my bath without my bad-tempered husband."   Turning away, she scooped up water in her hands and let it run over her   legs.



If he wanted to watch, that was fine. She refused to be hurried just   because her body reacted like wildfire to his. She could control   herself, she thought grimly. She would not give in to the urge to rip   open his shirt and lick her way up to his lips. She would not! Why was   he still sitting there? A woman only had so much self-control, even when   she was using anger to fuel it.



"Aren't you wondering why I've been acting like I have?" Marc finally   asked, scooping up water in one hand and dripping it over her thighs.



She sniffed to fight off a shiver at the intimate act, pressing her   thighs together to still the ache in between her legs. It only   intensified. "I don't know what it is that I did, but clearly, I've done   something, wrong. You're merely trying to reinstate your rights over  me  by showing me this coldness." She made a face at him. "I will not be   treated so!"



At that instant her American did something she'd never expected. Putting   both hands on her shoulders, he pulled her toward him and planted a   hard kiss on her startled lips. "To hell with my rights!" Wild hunger   raged in his eyes, but this hunger was deeper than the body, so deep   that she thought she could see his soul in the suddenly piercing quality   of those always-well-guarded eyes.



'The reason I've been acting like a wounded bear is because I worship   the ground you walk on. Being here reminds me too much of how we started   this marriage, how I killed all hope of love between us with the way I   claimed you without courtship. I love you, princess, and I can't stand   it that you'll never love me back." He kissed her again, strong and   swift. It felt like a brand on her heart.



"Heck, love doesn't begin to describe what I feel for you- this   emotion's like a fire inside of me that refuses to go out. It's passion   that stuns me when you smile and tenderness I didn't even know I could   feel. It's not roses and moonlight, it's lightning and forever."                       
       
           



       



Hira was stunned speechless by Marc's defiant declaration. Her proud,   inflexible husband had to know that by acknowledging his love, he was   giving her a weapon over him, and surely he'd never give such a weapon   to a woman like he'd once believed her to be, a mercenary beauty like   that bitch Lydia. He wasn't finished, either.



"I love your smile and, yes, I love your face. How could I not, when I   adore the woman you are? I love the way you talk to the boys and let   each of them feel as if he could win your hand if he were old enough. I   love the way you're so generous with your body and your affection."



His voice was raw; painfully, powerfully intimate. "I love the way you   try to love the bayou because I love it. I love you, and I've had it   with trying to hide what I feel."



Powerful and passionate, it was her first true glimpse of the intensity   of her husband's feelings. His love would be wild, an inferno that  would  demand everything from her.



Trembling, she raised her hand to his cheek and leaned close. "Marc,   husband, I c-can't..." Her voice was an emotion-choked whisper.



"Hush. I know." There was something bleak in his gaze. He'd given her   his heart with no expectation that she'd reciprocate. How much strength   did that take for a man who'd never been loved? How much courage? How   much love?



Her heart felt so big in her chest, Hira didn't know how it remained   inside her body. "Did you know my father has never once told my mother   that he needs her? Not once. Yet he relies on her for so many things."



"I need you more than you'll ever know." It was a rough acceptance, another glimpse into his proud heart.



This hunter of hers had far more depths than she would've believed when   they'd married. Dropping her hand, she moved closer and began to   unbutton his shirt. "What about when I'm old? When I have wrinkles? Or   lines from bearing children?"



"I want to grow old with you. I want to put laugh lines on your face,   and I want the birth of our children to change your body. Imagine a   lifetime of change, cher. A lifetime of learning each other anew." His   eyes were liquid silver but shadows still hovered in the background,   remnants of the neglected child, the final pieces of the vulnerability   he hid so well. "What's the fun in remaining the same?"



His shirt was open under her hands. She pushed it off his shoulders and   to the floor. Her hands went to his belt. A big male hand stopped her.



"No, sweetheart. You don't have to...give me anything. My love's free. And it's for always."



It was his tenderness that shattered any remaining doubts she might have   harbored. He sounded so very careful, so very worried that she might   feel obliged to him, so very concerned about her, when he was the one   who'd taken the risk of stripping his soul bare.



Swallowing, she raised her head and looked into those ghost-gray eyes.   "Marc, husband, I once told you I could tell lies very well."



"I'd rather have honest affection than a dishonest avowal of love," he   said, mistaking her meaning. There was an intensity in his gaze that   challenged hen This man would never settle for gilt when gold was his   goal.



She bit her lip. "No, I mean to say that I once told you a lie. I didn't   plan to, it just came out that way." She'd been panicked and afraid,   and it had been the only thing she could think of to keep him at a   distance.



His face hardened. "Oh?"



"I said I wouldn't have picked you if I'd had a real choice. I said that   the only reason I married you was because there was no way for me to   refuse my father's commands."



"Yeah." Marc had tried to get over that, but it continued to torment the   bayou boy inside of him. The one who'd never been chosen for love. The   one who was so madly in love with his wife that her lack of feeling  for  him hurt him with every breath. But he would never let her know  that  because as he'd said, honest laughter and affection were better  than  dishonest love.



"Did you know that my father had a marriage offer for me almost every week?" Hira confided softly.



He stared at her, his mind immediately beginning to holler questions.



"Marir was just one of many. I could've picked one of the others,   because there were several with businesses that would've complemented my   father's. And of course they had impeccable family links." She was   talking really fast, as if trying to get something past him.



His mind and heart refused to let her off that easily. "Would Kerim have let you?"



"Oh, yes, for if I was an unwilling wife to you or any other man, it   would've jeopardized his business. Far better to have me be a willing   wife whom he could mold, even if that meant I was married to someone   less influential.                       
       
           



       



"At the time that my father ordered me to marry you, I told myself I   didn't put up a fight because I was hurting from Romaz's rejection, but   that rejection had come many months previously. I'd had over eight   offers for my hand since then. One was from a prince in another desert   country, another from a British millionaire who is considered a very   eligible bachelor."



Something hungry deep inside Marc, went very, very quiet. "Eight?"



She nodded and gave him a guilty look. "None of which I had .trouble   rebutting, though my father drove me crazy with his orders for me to   agree. He kept threatening to throw me out on the street. Marir was his   attempt at scaring me when I refused all the suitors after barely a   single meeting. He would never have wasted me on a lecherous old friend.   Don't be angry with me."



She was fiddling with the button on his jeans, even as she explained.   Her lashes hid her eyes but he could tell she was giving him   surreptitious peeks to see how he was taking the news.



He narrowed his eyes. "You made me feel like I was the best of a bad   lot." His tone was light, his heart buoyant as he finally understood   what his proud princess was confessing.