Captive Bride (17 page)

Boldly, she caressed every inch of his hair-roughened flesh, seeking to intensify his desire until it raced through his veins like the bubbly lava of a volcano. Her wandering hands scaled his hips and then swept across his muscled chest. They forged across the taut planes of his body before descending to map his lean belly. Her caresses ebbed and flowed, trickling across his thighs and lightly brushing his ribs. Not once, but over and over again, she allowed her hands to explore and entice until she brought his passion to such a fervent pitch that Dominic groaned in sweet agony.

 
She was a witch weaving a spell, and his heart thundered so furiously he swore his rib cage would crack beneath its pressure. Like a man deprived of oxygen, he was unable to draw a breath without gasping for air. And when her quiet words echoed in the corners of his mind, he found his wish had come true.

 
"I love you, Dominic," Rozalyn confessed, pressing her body against his. As she clasped her hands behind his neck and smiled into his shadowed face, she could feel the heat of his desire pressing against her thigh. She ached to become one with him, to give herself to him, to share that splendrous moment that pursued and captured time. "It is true. I do love you. . . ."

 
"As I love you," he whispered back to her. Dominic drew her down with him to the thick carpet of grass, entwining his body in hers. "Sweet angel, take me to heaven. ..."

 
Rozalyn reveled in his soft-spoken confession. At last, she had found a man who wanted her as she was—wild and free, aching to give her love and have it eagerly returned. I am special to him, Rozalyn told herself as his greedy lips captured one ripe bud and then the other. He wants me, not my father's vast wealth, not the DuBois name. Dominic loves me and I love him.

There was no place she would rather be than in the never-ending circle of his arms. When she was with him all seemed right. This was where she belonged and this was where she would stay forever. She had waited for the man of her dreams to appear and now he was here, loving her, making her wildest fantasies reality.

 
With a cry of pleasure she accepted his hard, driving thrust, and he became the vital flame within her, her reason for being, her breath of life. Rozalyn wrapped her arms about him, feeling the corded muscles of his back flex and relax. Then they moved in perfect rhythm with the precious melody that strummed in her soul.

 
Dominic was lost to primitive needs as ancient as time itself for Rozalyn tore thought from his mind and left him a shuddering mass of raw emotion. Gentleness escaped him, and he crushed her soft, feminine body to his masculine form, groaning in the exquisite ecstasy of their union. His need for this wild, lovely witch with eyes brighter than the morning sky was a passion in itself. She tormented him at every step until he returned to her, refusing to release him no matter how frantically he fought against her hold on him.

 
Now he craved her luscious softness, and his mind spun senselessly as it did each time they touched or kissed. A strange sort of madness had claimed him when he'd glanced up to see this fetching misfit thundering toward him on her prancing bay stallion, and from that moment Dominic had been unable to control his desire to tame Rozalyn's wild heart. She was unlike any woman he had known—strong and willful. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and when she smiled Dominic saw a new horizon. Yet she was a wildly passionate vixen, and he alone had freed her soul and sent it soaring.

 
Suddenly, fiery sensations engulfed him, and his body moved as if it possessed a will of its own. He was burning alive, and as rapturous fires devoured him, he felt he was flying into the sun, to be consumed by its brilliant heat.

 
And then a tremor shook the roots of his sanity and ricocheted through him. He clung to Rozalyn for what seemed an eternity, waiting for the fires of passion to cool, waiting for physical sensations to fade and deliver him back to reality. But, even as the flame of love became the embers of desire, Dominic was aware of an insatiable need smoldering in the coals. Although Rozalyn's brand of passion was fulfilling, Dominic realized that she lit fires that would never completely burn themselves out.

 
The many faces of this vivacious nymph swirled through his hazy thoughts as his body relaxed. He could see her, raven-hair flying, thundering down the street, her eyes livened by her impetuous spirit. Then he recalled how those intriguing blue pools had sparkled with mischief as she'd ground her boot heel into his foot. Another vision rose to overshadow that—an impish smile on a flawless face camouflaged beneath the brim of a peasant's cap. Then that faded into a woman's soft, velvety body, so beautifully formed he could not resist caressing it. Yes, Rozalyn's supple curves belonged to a goddess. She was a bewitching siren, she was what dreams are made of. And she was like a distant star placed high in the heavens, to be gazed upon from afar. Dominic had been granted precious moments, but he wondered if he would ever be satisfied now that he had known perfection. Those moments of ecstasy in her silken arms would never be enough. He was, like a bee, instinctively drawn to her nectar.

 
"Is it always like this?" Rozalyn questioned as her sooty lashes fluttered up to meet his pensive gaze.

 
One dark eyebrow lifted acutely and then slid back to its normal arch as a low skirl of laughter bubbled in his chest. He bent to kiss her dainty nose, but her innocent inquiry disturbed him for he was forced to admit to himself that it had never been like this.

 
"Only for us." The silky huskiness of his voice drifted across her flushed cheek. "Our passion for each other has created something unique,
amie
. Each time I touch you I wonder what new dimension of pleasure awaits me."

 
Rozalyn cocked her head to the side, sending her ebony hair spilling over her shoulder. "Do you always offer such generous compliments to the woman in your arms?" she queried, tracing the rugged lines that strayed from the corners of his eyes.

 
"I don't recall saying there have been other women." Dominic chuckled as he braced his forearms beside her shoulders.

 
"I am not so naive as to think I am the first," she insisted, and then glanced away before she was entrapped in the emerald depths of his eyes. "I am still not certain that you would have denied Molly if I had not been sitting in the corner of the tavern."

 
"If I hadn't, I would be living in torment," Dominic sighed repentantly. "I would have been touching you, not her. I would have found no pleasure when my soul remained discontent."

 
It was all too easy to believe Dominic when Rozalyn was cradled in his strong arms. He had said he loved her and her soul was singing. She had waited for the right man to come along. She had held all other men at bay until Dominic had walked into her life, but she had been too skeptical too long not to question his fidelity. She had to know if his affection would stray when he saw a pretty face for when Rozalyn gave her heart it would be totally. She could not bear to be taken for granted, not after she'd lived with such a dispassionate father. She wanted to be loved, truly loved, for who she was. She wanted to belong, to be needed, not tolerated or ignored.

 
"And what of tomorrow, Dominic?" Rozalyn persisted. "Will you seek out another when I am not there to satisfy your craving? How many times can a man fall in and out of love?"

 
"Any man?" Dominic's index finger sketched her kiss-swollen lips. "I cannot speak for the entire male population, only for myself, and I can honestly say I have not been in love before this moment. I thought to tear you from my thoughts tonight, but I discovered the taproot ran too deep. I cannot forget you without sacrificing part of myself. Without you I would be only half a man."

 
A pleased smile blossomed on her face as she looped her arms about his shoulders, and her body moved provocatively against his, rekindling the eternal fire of desire.

 
"And because of you I have become a woman, one with needs only your love can fulfill. Teach me to return the pleasure of your touch so that you and I never fall out of love. . . ."

 
Her sensuous lips parted invitingly as her hands glided over his muscular hips, arousing his needs until he trembled with the wanting of her. She vowed to shower Dominic with love, never denying him the passion she yearned to give. This powerfully built man, with hair the color of midnight and eyes that sparkled like priceless emeralds, was her world. She could not name a moment when she had felt so whole and complete. Love is like touching heaven, Rozalyn mused as his mouth slanted across hers. The sweet sensation of his breath intermingling with hers stoked the fires of desire until they burst into flame.

 
Dominic wasn't certain what spell Rozalyn had cast upon him, but he felt swirling currents of passion course through his every nerve and muscle. She had but to touch him and he was aroused. Now, with caresses, she rediscovered his body, and the taste of her soft lips was sweeter than wine.

 
Again they sampled love's brew, losing themselves in heady pleasure. Man and woman, they ached to appease a primal craving. Dominic taught her to silently communicate her love, to convey emotions that mere words could not touch, and in the stillness of the night their love blazed anew, like a shooting star searing the heavens.

Chapter 8

 
Much later Rozalyn half-heartedly reached for her tattered garments and shrugged them on. When she tried to fasten the buttons of her shirt, Dominic helped her with the chore. He sighed heavily as he cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her lovely face to survey each soft, enchanting feature.

 
"I don't want to leave you," he murmured. His free hand slid around her waist to bring her body into intimate contact with his. "Leaving you last night drove me to drink. I hate to venture a guess as to what sort of crutch I will resort to tonight."

 
"Just so it isn't another woman," Rozalyn said saucily, and her blue eyes flared with the sparkle of mischief that delighted Dominic. "If I learn that you have returned to proposition Molly Perkins, I will have you staked out and left to the vultures."

 
"Spiteful wench," Dominic gasped in mock horror. "Is it not enough that I found myself surrounded by your pack of wolves? I wondered if you intended to see them extract a pound of my flesh."

 
"The thought did cross my mind momentarily." Rozalyn giggled as she ambled through the trees.

"What stopped you?" Dominic's voice was heavy with curiosity. "I wouldn't have blamed you. If I had been watching you entice another man, I am not certain I would have been so forgiving."

 
Rozalyn turned back to study Dominic's awesome figure. He bore the stamp of rugged nobility and the sight of him in form-fitting buckskins made her heart beat faster. "I have a great deal of respect for your ability to defend yourself, even against impossible odds, so my conscience did not allow me to see any of my friends hurt because I was jealous," she admitted.

 
A wry smile grazed Dominic's lips as he swaggered toward her. He playfully scooped her up in his arms to plant a breath-stealing kiss on her lips. "Possessive minx," he chided. Then he laughed softly, nuzzling his face against the trim column of her throat. "Are you using me to satisfy your passions? Do you think to make me your slave?"

 
His teasing remark hit upon an exposed nerve, and the happy smile died on her lips. "Never that, Dominic. I have no wish to smother you, only to offer back the pleasure you give . . . and with such practiced expertise."

 
His footsteps halted at the outskirts of cottonwood trees, and he peered down into her face, his expression somber. "There can be no other woman now, Roz. Your love has erased the past, and I cannot see past the present. The thought of you in another man's arms, eagerly responding to his touch . . ." His voice trailed off as the vision of Jeffrey Corday came into his mind. He cringed at the thought of that spindly blond touching this captivating sprite. "You are mine, Roz, and no man will claim what is mine."

 
Rozalyn swore she was living a dream. His words warmed her heart and echoed in her soul. For the first time in her life she was content, completely at peace with herself. She no longer yearned to follow the restless wind. Her long wait for a man bold enough to earn her respect and gentle enough to win her love had been worthwhile. She had found him and she harbored no regrets. Loving Dominic was the easiest thing she had ever done. It was beautiful and right. No one could sever their strong bond of affection, she assured herself. She pitied those who had given their love to careless philanderers. Dominic was not like those men. He truly cared about her, and he was man enough to confess that love.

 
Their parting kiss kept Rozalyn warm even after he released her, and as she aimlessly wandered into the house, she very nearly collided with Tess who stood like a posted lookout at the back door.

 
"Where have you bin 'til all hours of the night, chile?" Tess demanded. "Ain't nothin' good happens after midnight, 'specially in the streets of St. Lo
ui
s. There's witches and banshees prowlin' about at this hour. Did you meet up with any of them?"