Silk and Secrets(43)
Moving as quietly as he, Juliet also lay down and wrapped herself in her blanket, settling as far away from him as possible. Yet even though Ross was turned away, he was acutely, painfully aware of her nearness.
It had been hard enough the night before, when he knew that she was sleeping under the same roof; having her lying eighteen inches away was well nigh unbearable. Every sound she made, from the rustle of fabric to her nearly inaudible breathing, grated across his raw nerves like a saw-toothed blade.
But Ross would bear it because he had to. He had always been excellent at accepting the inevitable.
Deliberately he set out to calm his unquiet mind, using techniques he had learned at a Buddhist monastery in India. Muscle by muscle, he relaxed, at the same time slowing his breathing. He forced himself to concentrate on the feel of air as it flowed into his lungs, then drifted out again.
In, out. In, out. His ribs expanding, then contracting. This, too, shall pass. It was not his maddening, beautiful, infinitely desirable wife lying less than an arm's length away, but a rude young Targui named Jalal....
It would have been easier to convince himself that fish could fly.
Chapter 9
Huddled in her blanket against the wall, it took Juliet a long time to fall asleep. She was a light sleeper at the best of times, and with Ross only an arm's length away, her nerves were strung as tightly as a drumhead. Finally her weary body succumbed to fatigue, but her dreams were troubling ones of panicky flight and wrenching loss.
Sometime in the night, her distress eased. As she drifted into the hazy early-morning state that lies between waking and sleeping, she was just conscious enough to know that she was at peace. It was such a warm, comfortable feeling that she was reluctant to make the transition to full wakefulness.
Though it was still dark, she knew that it must be almost time to rise. Still, she let herself savor her lazy contentment, knowing that the least sound or movement would jerk her out of her golden mist. A gentle, rhythmic pulsing filled her awareness, like the touch and sound of a heartbeat....
Bloody hell! Abruptly she snapped awake, feeling such a profound sense of shock that it was all she could do not to fling her body backward. She was twined in Ross's embrace. He lay on his side, his arms loosely linked around her, while her left arm circled his waist, her unveiled face pressed against his broad chest, and her left knee tucked between his legs.
The fact that they were both swathed in layers of heavy fabric made little difference, for the impact such closeness had on Juliet's disordered senses could not have been much greater if they had been naked. Every fiber in her body vibrated with a reaction that was part physical yearning, part something deeper and more disturbing.
Shaking, she exhaled carefully, terrified of waking Ross. Thank God he had always been a sound sleeper. His breathing was deep and steady and he was obviously unaware that during the night they had drawn together like the opposite poles of a magnet.
They had always slept intertwined like this, unconsciously adjusting and moving in harmony so that they were in constant contact. Last night, when their minds submerged in sleep, their bodies had immediately reverted to what had been so natural a dozen years ago.
It would have been rather amusing if it weren't so profoundly upsetting. Exercising exquisite caution, Juliet backed out of Ross's embrace. Yet she paused before completing her withdrawal. For the first time since they had met at Serevan, she had the luxury of studying him at leisure.
In the faint predawn light his strongly sculpted features had a mesmerizing masculine beauty. He really was the handsomest man she had ever met, even unkempt and with a hint of beard shadowing his jaw. In some subtle, undefinable way the years had planed down his face so that he looked harder and more formidable than he had at twenty-one. Yet still visible was that basic quality of decency that she had always loved in him. She had had so much, and had thrown it all away.
On impulse she leaned forward and kissed the hollow where his jaw intersected his throat, so lightly that her touch could not possibly disturb him. A prickle of whiskers teased her lips, and a faint taste of salt lingered as she drew back.
The kiss was a mistake, for in spite of her care, Ross's breathing changed. Worse, she felt a stirring of arousal against her hip, which was still pressed against him. Making slow, languid love in the early morning had always been one of the very best times....
Savagely she bit her lower lip to counter the sensual warmth unfurling deep inside of her. With more speed than caution, she finished the job of disentangling herself from her husband, then promptly rolled over so that she faced the wall. Behind her, Ross sighed and shifted position, still asleep. Thank God for small blessings.