"It's the village," Belle called up to him.
He turned and saw she was perched on the window opening, and handed him a wrapped hot water bottle, which he took gratefully. "Be careful. If we slip-"
"James has me by the ankles. Here, take another one."
She handed up the other bottle, and went back down, shutting the window before he had time to thank her.
It was only when he tucked them in around himself that he realized that he had been freezing. His trembling grew so bad he dropped one or the other of the reins several times, and had to press his hands together right on top of the bottle in his lap to steady himself.
God, it was so cold. Only a bit further, please. I need to keep them safe.
He replayed the kiss he had shared with Belle hours before. Her kiss was honey-sweet, and made him forget for a moment even his own terrible past.
He could taste dew, smell freshly mown grass, feel the glorious sunshine upon his face, the warmth penetrating his bones, his soul… A new life.
Spring was the season, flowers, bees, pollen, everything fresh and new, like her skin, her hair…
Unbound, flowing over Blake's bare body like a river as it cascaded down her shoulders, covering her voluptuous breasts, which peeped through the raven tresses. It was a stark contrast, the pink, white and black. Then she was cradling his head against her, one nipple sliding unerringly into his mouth to nurture him, fill him with longing…
He could hear the shouts, the sound of running feet, the flinging open of the coach doors. He felt a little hand upon his shoulder, a delicate caress of his face.
"Come, Blake, it's over now. You're safe. We're safe. I'll look after you."
Then he was moving, sliding downwards, stumbling, his arms around her shoulders…
Her bare shoulders, so creamy and soft, her slender throat.
He kissed them all, then her rosy lips as his legs moved over hers. He moved inside the warm circle of her arms, her body, and the sun blazed anew in all its glory, blinding him with its brilliance as she shimmered all around him, hot, wet, loving, a taste of heaven on earth as he poured out all his pent-up yearnings into her…
CHAPTER EIGHT
Blake had never been so warm in his life. He stirred sleepily, almost too comfortable to move. But the enticing smell of food emanating from the kitchen below was enough incentive to lift his head from the pillow. Not to mention the overwhelming ache in his loins. It really had been too long. He toyed lazily with the idea of--
His eyes flew open with a start as his descending hand met a bare leg draped over his waist. The sun pouring in the window was almost perpendicular. It had to be the middle of the afternoon. The window was not his own. Had he-
He turned his head to look at the beautiful raven-haired woman slumbering peacefully by his side. Surely not a whore. He had never…
He had never seen anything so lovely in his life. Upon closer examination, however, he observed the mottled and chapped skin on her face and lips, and on the small delicate hand resting on his chest atop the covers. Her arm was clad in snowy white night flannel with tiny pink ribbons on the sleeves, both virginal and arousing.
At last he remembered. The coach wreck, the journey to safety…
How she had ended up in his bed he had no idea, for he could not recall anything clearly after spotting the lights of the inn in the distance, and Belle giving him the hot water bottles.
He shivered at the memory, and she stirred and opened her eyes.
"Are you well?" she asked quietly.
"I think so. You?"
"It's gone cold again. You're still shivering." She reached up to his throat and joined the gaping edges of the nightshirt he had been put in.
She pulled the covers up to his chin once more, placing her own arm under the blankets and upon his chest. "Better?"
"Mmm," he sighed. He closed his eyes again, and moved his hand on her bare leg. He realised her nightgown had rucked up over her thighs. With one final lingering stroke he tugged it back down. It was kind of her to be so solicitous of him, but it was not suitable for…
It was wonderful. He had never awakened with a woman in bed beside him before. All of his couplings had been quick, urgent, and over. The idea of lingering behind to look them in the face afterwards was just too difficult for him. He didn't know who he despised more, himself for not being able to control his needs, or them for indulging him.
Leonore he had of course seen more than once over the years, but he had never dared sleep over. That would have lent some sort of permanence to something which had only ever been intended to be a temporary solution at best. Sensuality blinded people to what was important, true, decent… Made them throw all caution to the winds, respectability, caused them to turn their back on duty, family-