Veils of Silk(124)

With one swift movement, he yanked off his close-fitting trousers, stirring up a floral flurry in the process. As petals fluttered in all directions, he pressed Laura onto her back and caught both of her hands in one of his, pinning her wrists to the floor above her head so that her breasts lifted. Her golden eyes were feral, and she squirmed against him in wordless demand. "Slow down, lassie," he murmured.

Restlessly she drew up one leg. He leaned over and kissed the fragile skin on the inside of her thigh. She moaned, and the sound vibrated through him like temple bells. He spread his hand over her belly and kneaded the gentle curve, then drew the heel down over soft, curling tan hair.

She made a dark, wild noise deep in her throat and began grinding her pelvis into his palm, her desire the sharpest aphrodisiac he had ever known. Another scent joined the enticing potpourri that surrounded them, this one the sweet saltiness of female arousal.

He slid his fingers through the dainty curls and began to caress her intimately. The moist, petal-like mysteries of her body were lovelier than the blossoms around them. She made a choking sound when he began stroking the bud that was the most sensitive spot of all. "Please, now," she panted. "Please."

Knowing that she was as ready, as desperate, as he, he released her wrists and rolled onto his knees, then braced himself above her. Her arms came around his ribs and she opened easily to his penetration, sheathing him with a clasp like hot, liquid velvet. He entered her slowly, but with smooth, inexorable power. At the point of deepest invasion he held still for a moment, his sexual balance as precarious as a tightrope walker.

She gave a low moan of distress as he withdrew, then cried out when he thrust again. Convulsions rippled through her, and she tightened around him in hard, rapid spasms that swept away his balance. He surged into her again and again, until he reached the taut point where madness splintered into peace.

Throbbing and light-headed, he subsided onto her, wondering if he would ever move again. "I'm very, very glad that you didn't change your mind this time," he whispered.

"So am I, doushenka."

With tension released, the only sound was that of their breathing as it gradually returned to normal rhythms. Ian was thinking that he had better move before he crushed Laura when she slid her fingers into his hair and murmured, "I love you, Ian. Thank God you came into my life."

Her words ripped through his surface contentment, baring the darkness below. He would never have answered as he did if he hadn't been physically and emotionally drained. But all of his barriers were down and before he could stop himself, he said, "I wish to God that you wouldn't say that."





Chapter 28





Unable to believe that she'd heard correctly, Laura turned her head and stared at her husband, whose face was only inches away. There was a bleakness in his expression that hurt her heart. Uncertainly she said, "Ian?"

In an instant he masked his emotions so smoothly that it was as if the darkness had never been there. "Just muttering to myself, Larishka." He smiled and kissed her, his expressions so tender that she almost believed that she'd misunderstood. Almost.

Lightly he said, "It's too cool to spend the night on the floor, even with a blanket of rose petals." He raised his head and looked measuringly at the bed. "I wonder if I have enough strength left to get us that far."

Laura could have managed to move, though she was disinclined to try, but no effort was required of her. Ian got to his knees, then scooped her in his arms, stood, and carried her to the bed. His prison gauntness had been replaced by hard, sculpted muscles. Trying to forget her husband's disquieting remark, Laura touched a ragged scar on his bicep. "Did one of your souvenir bullets cause this?"

"Yes. That happened when I was a newly fledged subaltern without the sense to know when to duck." He laid her on the bed, then began brushing petals from her with tantalizing care. "I recall reading that Cleopatra once welcomed Mark Antony in a room knee-deep in rose petals, but the book didn't mention whether they also ended up with petals in such interesting places."

With a soft sigh of pleasure, Laura said, "Having you remove them is part of the fun." She proceeded to brush him off wherever she could reach without having to move from her supine position. "Because you were on top, you don't seem to have acquired as many petals as I did, but your knees are pink.''

"A small price to pay." He pulled back the covers and tucked her under, then lay down himself. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but exactly what changed your mind about physical intimacy?"

The rose scent was less obvious now that Laura had become accustomed to it, but it still stirred her nostrils with delicate sweetness. She felt as if they were drifting on a magical sea of blossoms. Turning so that her head was on his shoulder and her arm across his waist, she described her discussion with Kamala.