Fallen Angel (39 page)

She didn't think she was pregnant, but how could she tell? Her cycle had always become irregular at any crisis in her life, and there had been many of those in the last month or two. Hopefully, in another week or so, everything would be back to normal. Pregnancy was not to be thought of! She tried to stifle the leap of joy which started her pulse racing when she thought of having
his
baby growing inside her. Her thoughts drifted.

She remembered the day Malcolm's mother had told her that she'd left childhood behind and was now capable of making babies. After that, she'd had the typical girlish fancies—a house filled with love, laughter, and her own babies, and in the background, almost as an afterthought, a masculine presence, the shadowy figure of some male or other who would make it all happen. That had been the part of the fantasy which had been least welcome. To permit a man such intimacies with one's person seemed indelicate, undignified and absolutely terrifying. How men could even wish for such a thing had been beyond her ken. But that was before Deveryn. The very thought of him brought her body alive with an achy awareness.

She didn't like it. She palmed her breasts over her cotton night attire, and tried to placate the throb of the nipples suddenly grown sensitive. It wasn't fair! For a whole month she'd been mistress of her body. She'd subdued it with scarcely an argument. But all it took was a few hours in Deveryn's discomposing presence, and every pore, every fine hair, every drop of blood, skin, muscle, bone rebelled against her as if
she
were the enemy.

"It's wicked," she said aloud, and flattened her breasts as if she would erase her femininity. "We're not even married."

Her body evidently did not share her scruples. She was hot. She was restless. She needed a cool draught of air to instill some sanity into her rioting senses. She reached the French doors onto the little balcony just as they opened, and there stood Deveryn, framed in the doorway, as if her body had conjured him up out of thin air.

She stumbled back with a cry. He swiftly drew the curtains together and turned to face her. A roguish strand of blond hair fell across his forehead.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, controlling the warble in her voice with super-human effort.

He cocked one eyebrow as he moved farther into the room, his hands automatically going to the intricate folds of his neckcloth. Maddie bustled away. The back of her legs hit the bed and she fell against it.

"It's been a month," he said. "What did you expect?"

He discarded his garments with easy grace till he was down to his trousers. His potent virility hit her like a tidal wave, flooding every pore on the surface of her skin. She could sense them opening to get more of him. With a little cry of rage, she shot to her feet. She wasn't about to forget all the man's iniquities in spite of the messages her traitorous body was trying to feed her.

"You've got the wrong room, Deveryn," she sneered. "I'm not Cynthia or Dolly what's-her-name. You should have stayed in London. I don't think you'll find any lightskirts among your mother's guests. Perhaps if you try below stairs."

Her angry tirade broke off abruptly as he reached her in one lithe stride. Strong fingers encircled her throat, squeezing gently.

"You're my wife."

His eyes held hers. She could hear the frightened rush of air from her lungs as her breathing became more difficult. His eyes dropped to her parted lips. She tried to close them, but breathing became intolerable. His eyes lifted to hers and she could see the subtle change in his expression. She recognized the look. A cry tore from her lips the second before his mouth covered hers.

His kiss was smothering, cutting off air till she thought her lungs would burst. Her mouth went slack beneath his, giving in to the implacable demand that she surrender everything to him. She felt a rush of cool air on her shoulder as he pushed her wrapper aside to slide in a tangle at her feet.

He released her lips to say hoarsely, "Maddie, put your arms around me."

She stood hesitating for a split second then took a step backward only to find herself pinned against the smooth polished wood of the bedpost.

"Don't," she pleaded, but his arms were already wrapping themselves around her, one hand splaying out to bring the lower part of her body into intimate contact with his. Her hips arched into the heat of his arousal even as she uttered the weak and wholly ineffective denial, "No."

Tongue and lips washed the protest from her mouth, flooding her with his essence, filling her with the rhythm and beat that her inflamed senses instantly recognized. Everything inside her went liquid with wanting. Her hands went to his shoulders, then crept round his neck, and her fingers lost themselves in his hair.

Through the thin cotton of her gown, he took the weight of one breast in his hand. She leaned into his palm, firing him to a rougher, more abrasive contact. His tongue trailed hotly moist from the pulse behind her ear to her throat.

"Maddie, touch me," he breathed, even as his fingers deftly undid the row of buttons that opened her gown from throat to waist.

"Touch me," he repeated, and his warm breath fanned one swollen nipple as he pulled the gown from her arms.

Her arms spread out over his shoulders and he jerked slightly at her first tentative touch. The pads of her fingers grew sensitive, absorbing the sensation of powerful masculine muscles, tensed, straining to gentle his virility lest his mate recognize her weakness and imagine herself in jeopardy. The picture flashed to her fingertips and they lifted from his feverish skin.

His head rolled back. "Maddie . . . please . . . more," he pleaded.

Her delicate touch descended, and with almost detached interest, she touched them to the pulse beating wildly at his throat. A shudder shook his frame, vibrating beneath her damp palms, and she could feel heat leaping to life between her thighs.

She stilled, waiting for the moment to pass, and his head descended. The tip of his tongue traced a lazy path round the hardened bud of one nipple, evading the throbbing peak, deliberately heightening her anguished pleasure.

"Jason," she begged, "don't!" The torment of anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He pulled back and she was shocked at the hard glitter blazing from his eyes.

"Jason, don't what?" he raged. "Why won't you give in to me? Why won't you admit you want me as much as I want you? Your body knows it, even if you don't. Shall I prove it to you?"

She shook her head. It was unnecessary to prove something she already knew. But he mistook her meaning. With a muttered oath, he stripped the gown from her till she was uncovered to his hungry gaze.

"Maddie, you are so beautiful. I'll never get enough of you," he murmured softly. His eyes lingered on the auburn triangle at the juncture of her thighs and she felt as if he had caressed her there, intimately, and with voluptuous abandon. She made a slight, evasive movement and both hands were captured behind the bed post. He restrained her easily. The will to fight him had been lost before he'd even stepped into her chamber. But he wasn't to know that.

His eyes held hers in their heated, passionate embrace. In the charged silence, she could sense the movement of his hand as he released himself from his trousers.

The tempo of their strident breathing increased, its sensual rhythm filling the room. Her body quivered, the tension of waiting for what he would do next bringing her to fever pitch.

He freed her hands and dragged her closer, one palm at the small of her back, bringing her hips forward.

"Open your legs for me," he whispered thickly.

Of its own volition, her body answered him. His fingers slipped inside her, and her muscles tightened involuntarily.

"Maddie," he groaned, "why do you put me through such hell when . . ."

She felt him poise for entry. Her fingers dug into his tensing shoulders. He thrust into her and with a soft cry she arched back in mindless ecstasy.

One arm wrapped around her waist, his hand against her back, preventing her from falling. The other hand curved around her hips, controlling her movements, arching her to meet each hard thrust of his loins, and his mouth closed over one tortured nipple, suckling hungrily as if he would fill himself with her. Maddie could no longer stifle the pleasure sounds that seeped from her throat. As the pleasure mounted, so did the pitch of her anguished wails.

She heard his deep throated chuckle before he lowered her to the bed. "Maddie, you'll rouse the whole house."

But a groan of pleasure was torn from his own lips as she wrapped her legs around his flanks.

With ruthless control, he stilled her writhing movements and levered himself from her. Slowly, dazed, her eyes languid with passion, she tried to focus on his face. He gave her a moment to come to herself.

"Jason?"

His voice was unbending. "Tell me you want me."

Her eyelids drooped as she tried to fathom his sudden coldness.

"Tell me!" he ordered.

"I want you."

"Now say that you're my wife."

"I'm your wife."

"Maddie," he breathed, coming into her fully, "I love you."

She repeated the words only a breath after his passionate avowal. He seemed to understand the sudden rush of tears that drenched her cheeks.

"It's all right, love. Everything will be fine," and he set himself to reward her reluctant confession with the worship of his own adoring body.

At the crest of their pleasure, his hand reached blindly for her mouth, stifling her piercing cry of anguish, and he pressed deeper, deeper, fervently blending his body into hers, smothering his own hoarse cry of triumph against her throat.

They lay spent in each other's arms. "Maddie," he said, but could not find the words to tell her of the awe he had experienced at their joining. "Maddie," he said again, and fell silent, contenting himself with the feel of her in his arms.

His sated indolence was rudely dispelled when Maddie pulled from his inert clasp and shrugged into the crushed wrapper which had been discarded on the floor at the foot of the bed. He raised on his elbows and watched her curiously as she stationed herself at the fireplace, staring into the fire.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked.

She spun on him, and he could tell at once from the set expression on her face that she was far from all right.

"What is all this supposed to prove, Deveryn?" she demanded in a tight, little voice.

"So we're back to 'Deveryn' are we?" he asked, his lips compressing. "Am I only to hear my name on your lips when we're in the throes of passion?"

Her velour wrapper, he noted dourly, was belted tightly at her waist. He began to fasten the buttons of his trousers, and realized, belatedly, that he hadn't even removed them to make love to her. A moment's reflection, and he philosophically absolved himself for a lack of his habitual finesse. He was as much of a novice as Maddie. He'd never been in love before.

"Deveryn, you told me once that you knew, you knew . . ."

"Yes?"

". . .
how to prevent conception," she finished in a rush. "Did you? Is it possible that I'm . . ."

He scowled at her. "Of course I didn't, and it's very possible," he retorted baldly.

"But why?" she wailed.

"Because," he answered with ruthless honesty, "It's beyond my power to withdraw from you once you start your caterwauling."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your pleasure sounds."

"I? I make sounds?" she asked indignantly. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

He was totally captivated. "I assure you, darling, I've already decided that the only suitable place for our bedchamber is at the top of the house and well away from the nursery and the servants' staircase. You see, I want to hear you when I don't have my hand over your mouth."

A fiery bloom flamed from her hairline to her bare toes. "You're . . . you're disgusting!"

"No," he said, and extended his hand palm up. "Only a very hot-blooded husband who happens to be in love with his wife. Now come here."

"What for?" she hedged.

"Maddie," he warned, "just do as I say.

She crossed the room with slow, halting steps, and came to stand just out of arm's reach. Wordlessly, he raised his open palm. She edged closer, assessing the determined set of his mouth. With a little sigh of resignation, she placed her hand in his. He pounced on her and dragged her across his lap, stifling her startled squeal of fright with a hard kiss.