At the Highwayman's Pleasure(47)

His groan elicited nothing more than a gurgle of laughter from Charity.

‘Giving you your own medicine,' she murmured, pushing herself up. ‘Let  us get out of these clothes, Ross. I want to hold you properly.'

‘I hope you will hold me most improperly,' he murmured, sending the  heat rushing through her once again, but most especially it pooled  between her thighs, reminding her of the sweet, sensual caresses he had  bestowed upon her once before.

They slipped off the bed and scrabbled out of their clothes, Charity  only pausing when Ross stripped away his breeches and stood before her,  lean and muscled, his arousal all too obvious in the pale light of the  early dawn. She stepped back and felt the edge of the bed behind her.  She slid up onto the covers and began to move back until Ross stopped  her, his hands on her ankles. Obedient to the gentle pressure, her legs  parted. Ross dropped to his knees and pulled her towards him, settling a  knee over each shoulder and leaning forward to kiss the tangle of curls  at her groin.

‘Ross! Don't...'

Her words trailed away as his tongue flickered over her, licking and  kissing until she was writhing, wanting him to go farther, deeper. His  fingers joined the incessant pleasuring until she could bear it no  longer. Waves of pleasure were building inside her, rippling through her  until she shuddered, arched and cried out, her arms thrown wide, hands  gripping the covers.                       
       
           



       

Ross eased her onto the bed and stretched out beside her, wrapping her  in his arms and holding her until the pulsing, throbbing convulsions had  eased.

‘Oh, I did not know,' she sobbed into his shoulder. ‘I thought the first time was ecstasy, but this-'

‘I am glad,' he murmured.

When he tried to pull her closer, she resisted.

‘But you, Ross, you haven't-'

‘Hush.' His arms tightened around her. ‘There is time yet.'

She gave a shaky little laugh.

‘I don't think I could...'

‘Patience.' He silenced her with a kiss and settled her more  comfortably in his arms, but one hand was stroking her thigh. It was a  slow, gentle movement, but instead of lulling her into sleep she felt  her body waking, the need growing in her again. She stirred restlessly  and as the slow, sensual stroking continued, her body pressed against  Ross. He began to kiss her face, leaving a trail of burning kisses over  her cheeks and throat before turning his attention to her ear, where his  tongue ran around the shell-like contours, teasing her into full  arousal.

Charity wrapped herself around him and he gently rolled her onto her  back, kissing her with a slow thoroughness that seemed to draw out the  very heart of her. Her body was softening and she opened to him,  inviting him in. He eased himself between her thighs and slid into her,  moving with long, slow caresses that drew a rippling response she could  not control. He took her mouth again, the rasp of his tongue mirroring  those other slow, unhurried movements and driving her beyond reason. She  was on fire, her body no longer her own as it matched his rhythm. He  was thrusting deeper into her, deeper, harder, and she felt as if she  was flying, arching and bucking beneath him as her body responded to his  urgent demands.

It was too much; she bit her lip to stop herself screaming with the  sheer joy of it as Ross gave an exultant shout and with a final,  earth-shattering thrust took them over the edge and they clung together,  suspended in time and space until at last the spasm passed and they  collapsed together onto the bed, gasping, laughing and crying all at  once.

They lay together, side by side, hand in hand.

Charity gave a long sigh.

‘That was...wonderful!'

He chuckled. ‘And it will be better still, with practice.'

‘Will it?' she asked him, wonder in her voice. ‘Will it really?'

‘Yes, really!' He laughed and rolled over to pull her into his arms.  ‘Oh, my love, there is so much I want to share with you, and not just  the delights of the bedroom. I would like to take you to sea with me as  my wife, to show you the wonder of a full moon sailing high over the  water, to let you hear the wind keening through the rigging, taste the  salt spray on your face-but of course if you do not care for the sea  then we can make our home here, or anywhere you wish-'

She struggled and immediately he released her and fell back on the  covers. She raised herself up on one elbow and stared down at him.

‘You are smiling.'

The curve of his lips stretched into a full-blown grin.

‘I have so much to smile about.'

She bent and kissed him. ‘Being happy suits you,' she said softly. ‘I like to hear you laugh.'

‘Then you shall hear it a great deal. But not just now.' He pulled her  down beside him and settled her in his arms. ‘Sleep now.'

* * *

Ross woke with the sun streaming through the window, hot on his naked  body as he lay sprawled on the covers. He was immediately aware that he  was alone and he sat up, stretching. Charity was kneeling on the window  seat, wrapped in his banyan. She had her back to him and her thick hair  cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall. He wanted to go over to  her and let those heavy silk tresses run through his fingers, but  something wasn't right. Something in her stillness, the slight droop of  her shoulders, alarmed him. Tentatively he called her name.

When she did not move he slipped off the bed and went over to sit beside her.

‘What is it, love?'

She turned to him and he saw the traces of tears on her face.

‘Oh, Ross, I c-can't marry you.'

An ice-cold hand clutched his heart and squeezed it, hard.

‘May I enquire why not?' He kept his voice calm, while fear made the  blood pound in his ears. ‘Do you find you don't love me after all?'

She averted her face.

‘I do love you,' she muttered in a strangled voice. ‘I love you too  much to marry you.' She turned to him again, fresh tears turning her  eyes the colour of polished sapphires. ‘Do you not see how wrong it  would be for me to marry you? My father-'                       
       
           



       

He bit back an oath. He should have known Phineas would be behind this!

‘Yesterday you said you no longer feared him.'

‘And it's true, but he is still my father.' The tears sparkled on her  lashes. ‘I am a traitor's daughter, Ross-if you marry me then you will  be tainted, too. People would talk behind their hands about you. They  might even question your loyalty.'

‘Not when it is known that you helped to bring Weston to justice.'

‘And th-that is another reason I c-cannot marry you.' Her voice  trembled pitifully. ‘What would everyone think of a daughter who would  send her own father to the gallows?' She used the edge of the sleeve to  wipe her cheeks. ‘I thought I did not care what became of him, but it's  not true, Ross. I was happy to think I need never see him again, that he  would disappear from my life and not do any more harm to anyone, but  when you were sleeping it came to me that the only way that is going to  happen is for him to d-die, and whatever he has done to me I do not want  that, Ross. I don't want to see him hang.'

But I do! thought Ross furiously. Not for the injustice he has done to  me, nor his treachery to England, but for the misery he has inflicted  upon you, my love.

He clenched his jaw, determined not to utter the words, knowing they  would cause her more distress. He reached for her, but she gave a little  shake of her head and waved him away. A cloud covered the sun and the  sudden chill reminded him that he was naked.

He rose, saying carefully, ‘We will talk about this more after we have dressed and broken our fast.'

When she did not respond he put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a  gentle squeeze before collecting up his clothes and dressing silently.

* * *

Charity sank deeper into her despair. He had not argued with her, had  made no attempt to dissuade her, so he must agree, now that he had had  time to reflect upon it, that she would not make him a suitable wife.  Peeping through her lashes, she saw that Ross had retreated to the far  side of the bed. She must be sensible and get away from here with as  little hurt as possible, to either of them.

* * *

When Ross asked her if she needed help with her clothes, she said no  and he went off to the kitchen to wait for her. She was relieved when  she joined him a short while later to find that he was alone.

He was studying a sheet of paper, but when she came in he put it down.

‘Mrs Cummings has shopping to do, so I sent her off with Jed. We will serve ourselves with breakfast.'

He waved an arm towards the table, which was covered with dishes, a  raised pie, plates of ham and beef, fresh bread rolls and a dish of  butter. Charity sat down and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot  near her elbow. Sensible, controlled. She could do this.