Forget Me Not (26 page)

“This is me,” he blurted displaying the likeness for her to see. “This is me before I deployed to France four years ago.”  He stumbled backward landing heavily in the straight backed chair. “Donnelly, ye’re a goddamned fool,” he grumbled to himself, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “It means nothin’. Nothin’ at all. Ye can’t have her, Brian Donnelly, ne’er in a hundred lifetimes, just remember that.”

Oh, but to see his likeness sketched time after time was a heady thing indeed. It must have taken her years to compile this volume. His pulse leapt to think that the one night could have affected her as it had him. They had spoken of the night, he knew she remembered, but was
it possible what had transpired between them had not been as one sided as he’d always believed?  “Did ye draw these?”

“I did.”  Her lips pursed as though embarrassed. “I have tried to commit as much of that night to memory.”  A notable quaver touched her voice. “For years I worried over you, wondered if you were dead or wounded. I even prayed that I would see you again.”

“Oh, lass.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, closing his eyes to block out the witching golden glow of her eyes. “I too remember every moment of that night.”

“Really?”  She shifted to stand, the swish of her night robes intoxicating.

“Did I not just say it?” he barked, trying to ignore the gentle sway of her hips as she glided toward him. “But we can never be together. Ye know that. I have nothing to offer you. Nothin’.”

“Brian, must we continue this same old argument?  I don’t care what you have to offer. I only care for you.”  Their eyes touched across the room and the pull was magnetism. She stepped toward him, arms outstretched, beckoning.

“Lydia…” He stood to answer her siren’s call, and gathered her in his arms, crushing her to his chest. He moved to kiss her but stopped short.

He could ruin her. Right here. Right now. Take her for his own. Make it so no man would ever want her. Keep her for himself or, at the very least, know he had been her first. She bent beneath his hands like a flower in the wind, her eyes clouded with passion, her parted lips begging to be kissed, hands clutching his shoulders in a desperation matching his own.

“Brian,” she moaned her breath hot and intoxicating against his lips. “Kiss me. Please.”

“Lydia, I – I – I can’t, love.”  He released her like a hot coal. “I’m sorry. We can’t do this.”

“But, Brian, I love you,” she blurted, the words choked, and desperate as her honey gold eyes.

“Rah!”  He raked both hands through his hair spinning a harried circle. “Do not tell me that.”  In one long stride he caught her face in his hands, burying his fingers in the soft mass of her hair, pressing his forehead against hers. “Do ye ken how dangerous those words are?”

“How dangerous, Brian?”

His thumbs traced circular paths across her milky smooth cheeks, the whole of his soul

shaking with crazed desire. “Do ye ken what I would do to ye, love?”

“Show me?” She strained against his hands, her lids half closed in a gaze that was sultry, wistful, and mayhap filled with every ounce of the longing he felt for her. “Love me, Brian, even… just… once.”

Slowly he crumbled, losing the tenuous shreds of his common sense.

“One time, Brian.” She trailed her fingers across his chest. The soft touch burned through the thin fabric of his shirt. He wanted her. To taste her. Feel her. Devour her.

Lydia broke from his grasp, backing toward the bed. Her shoulders wiggled and the silken wrapper slid soundlessly to the floor, revealing a white and perfectly virginal swathe drifting loosely along her perfect curves. The nightgown was anything but revealing lace and frill, but the sight of her in it was undoubtedly the most erotic vision ever to meet his gaze. The blood rushed hot in his ears, and veins… and loins as his roving eyes drank in the curve of her slender ankles, up along her hips to the swell of her unbound breasts. His gaze lingered before caressing the lines of her face. Golden-brown waves of silk cascaded over her left shoulder, glowing with the luminosity of the stars, and her amber eyes glittered in the softly dancing light of the lamp. She looked so sweetly nervous and excited with those wide oval eyes turned up to him. Her full, pouty bottom lip quivered enticingly and he wanted nothing more than to capture it between his teeth to taste the rosy sweetness.

The tentative seductress standing before him reached down to lift the hem of her nightdress. Slowly she inched the white fabric up revealing the delicate arc of her ivory calves. His heart hammered in his chest, self-control hanging by the barest thread. Visually he caressed the sight of her slender limbs unfolding to reveal the perfect curvature of her thighs.

Oh, Christ in heaven! 
He couldn’t take the torture. The temptation.

Abruptly he stepped forward, grasping her wrists. “No. Stop this now.”

Chapter Fifteen

Lydia stilled instantly, shame creeping into her belly. Terrified, embarrassed, devastated, she looked up into Brian’s pale green eyes unsure of what to say or do. She stood ready to give herself to him, begging for his touch, and still he rejected her?

“Let me do it,” he rasped in a voice so husky she hardly recognized it as his own. Brian closed the distance between them, snaking one arm around her middle, drawing her fully against him. Their hips nestled snuggly together and proof of his arousal pressed through the thin fabric of her nightdress. The sensation was exhilarating. His other hand traced the length of her spine along her neck until his fingers buried deep within her hair. Urgently his lips descended taking hers in an exchange of total surrender. His broad hands roamed every curve and swell of her body with abandon, she shivered, whimpering with longing as he reached down to gruffly grasp her buttocks lifting her against him completely.

Lydia slid her palms up the contours of his sculpted chest, linking her arms around his neck, she crushed herself to him, but Brian pulled her back. He began to maneuver the nightdress up her legs to her hips, his hands stroked the bare flesh of her thighs and bottom. The breath froze in her throat as tremors of pure… pleasure exploded within her. Even the storm raging outside the window was no match for what she felt in this moment. He set her on the bed, positioning himself between her parted legs, and in one swift motion pulled the gown over her head.

Her breath hitched. Nervously she stilled, feeling totally vulnerable. Exposed.

Brian’s hands paused on her upper arms, his intense gaze searing the length of her body. “
Tá tú go h-álainn
,
” he murmured, softly pressing his mouth to one corner of her lips and then the other. His tongue lingered against her bottom lip for a long moment before traveling across her jaw and down to the sensitive flesh of her throat.

The musical tones of his native Gaelic swirled through her mind, lulling tremulous nerves until she was mere clay in his hands. “What does that mean?”

“It means ye’re beautiful.”  Seductively his lips trailed the slope of her décolletage down to her collarbone then back up to nibble an ear lobe. “So beautiful.”

Her heart melted.
She
melted into a limpid pool in his hands. A man had never told her she was beautiful and certainly not so romantically. “Oh, Brian… I want you. Please make me yours.”  She sagged against his powerful chest, pressing parted lips to his, yielding completely. And in that moment she knew it was over. The waiting. The fighting. The denials. Her heart was lost to him, and though he’d not said it, she knew he felt the same. Every word or touch they’d ever shared could not hold a candle to the raw passion shining at the surface of his eyes tonight. His every caress branded her soul. Without a word he settled her back gently against the cool silken sheets, his toned body stretched along hers, molding to the contours of her smaller frame.

A tremendous clap of thunder rattled the walls, but beneath Brian, locked in his arms, no amount of fear touched Lydia. Instead she was relaxed, completely at ease. Safe. Brian would take care of her. Here…  Tonight…  Dare she hope forever?

“Lydia, I have dreamed of this moment for so long, in so many ways.”  He drew back slightly, locking his gaze with hers, a silent question skimming the surface. “I promise to go slow fer ye, love, but if ye think even for a moment ye’ll regret this…”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Never.”  Slowly she traced the chiseled lines of his face, along the angle of his jaw to the full curve of his sensual lips. Artful lips. Lips made for kissing and lovemaking. He closed his eyes as though savoring her touch. “Brian?”

“Aye, lass?”

She swallowed, nervously toying with the edge of his collar
.
“Why am I the only one without clothes on?”

He smiled, the gesture sending slivers of awareness down her spine. “Because ye haven’t undressed me yet.”

“How shall I go about it?”
The top button of his shirt lay just beneath her fingertips, slowly she released the catch, letting her knuckles graze the bare skin beneath. He trembled. She trembled. The experience was entirely… sensual. “Perhaps like this?”

A smile rolled across Brian’s lips. “Aye, ye little nymph, I should say that’s one way to go about it. But my heart may stop with the anticipation. I vote we do this the quick and easy way.”  In one swift movement he reached behind his head, grasped a handful of the shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it on the floor beside the bed. “There. Done.”

She gaped in fascination at the sight of his naked chest pressed against her own bare torso. Heart hammering with the knowledge she was about to do something against every moral and belief she’d been raised to, Lydia reconciled with the deeper understanding that nothing had ever felt so right. The act of love could never be wrong if true to her heart.

Gently her fingers trailed the bandage binding his ribs. “What of your ribs, Brian?  Will this hurt you?”

“Not near as much as it would hurt not to have ye here and now, love.”  With a tenderness bordering reverence he took her mouth, the kiss soft and smoldering and more gentle than a man his size had a right to be. Slowly his hands moved, the touch tender at first, tickling and teasing, pulling her into a haze of arousal. His fingers slid down her body, his lips close behind. Shudders of excitement raced through her.

Brian paused, curling a palm around her breast. Mesmerized Lydia gazed on as he smoothed a thumb across her taut nipple. She gasped.

“Do ye like that?”  He flashed a wicked grin. “Then what about this?”  His mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh.

“Oh!”  Pleasures so golden they must be forbidden shot through her. Lydia’s fingers curled through his hair, holding his head to her, desperate for the quivers washing over to continue. His head lifted. “No, don’t stop,” she begged.

“Worry not, love, this is only the beginning.”  His attention shifted to the other breast, and the sensual torture began all over again.

Lydia lay completely still content to drink in every stroke… each caress…  All apprehension faded leaving naught but boiling passions in its wake. “Brian,” she sighed, head lolling to the side.

“Say it again,” he rasped,

“Hmmm?”

He rose up and over her again, the mattress sank beneath his weight. “My name, lass. Say it again.”

“Brian,” she murmured, meeting his fevered gaze.

“Music from an angel’s lips.”  He brushed her mouth. “So sweet.”

“Brian.”  Tentatively she reached out, brushing her fingertips across the smooth flesh of his chest. Tight cords of muscle leapt beneath her touch, a new excitement trilled inside her. His eyes drifted shut. More boldly she explored his body, running her hands along his arms and shoulders; then down his chest, along his flat abdomen… there she stopped, too nervous to travel lower.

Soon he joined her, their lips and tongues and limbs tangled in fiery mating. Shivers streamed over and through her, in her blood, encompassing her soul. Passions boiled over, and Lydia responded to every touch and caress, eager for more, knowing this could be the only chance to love him fully.

The sudden sad thought pierced her bliss. How did one pull a lifetime of warmth from a single night?  She’d begged him to love her, even if only this one time, but could it ever be enough?  Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, binding her to him. “Hold me tighter, Brian. Closer.”

One powerful arm circled her waist drawing her completely beneath his hard frame, while the other clasped her hand above their heads. “Close enough love?” he rasped against her lips.

“Closer.”  She arched against him, her body asking for what she did not know how to put into words. “I want to feel you. All of you. I don’t know if the nearness I long for is possible.”

“Oh, my Lydia,” he groaned, “it is possible, but only if yer ready. I’ll do nothin’ until ye’re ready for it.”

“I am more than ready. Show me.”

Swiftly Brian rolled away from her. Lost in a haze of his warmth she was suddenly cold and alone. Her arms ached to hold him again. He doffed the remainder of his clothes, revealing the whole of his incredible form to her. Rather than deter from his masculine façade the bandage surrounding his ribs made him appear even more rugged. She flushed with heat, embarrassed but unable to tear her gaze from the incarnation of Apollo before her. Suddenly she was desperate to experience the nearness he spoke of.

Without a thought Lydia held her arms out, welcoming him back into her embrace.

Brian moved over her in a primitive movement, capturing her lips in a fevered exchange, simultaneously spreading her legs with his knees and invading the last of her innocence.

Dear God! 
Lydia jerked upright, but she was trapped beneath Brian. Well, perhaps not
God
—she would prefer not to think of God at this particular life juncture—but Brian was…
inside
of her. Completely. Fully. The sensation did not hurt so much as it was shocking, startling unlike anything she’d ever known.

“Stay with me, love,” he whispered in soothing tones. “Stay with me. This gets better, I promise.”

Lydia drew a deep breath and nodded, waiting for her body to adjust. Brian trembled beneath her fingertips. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, love. I am more than all right.”  His lips dropped to her neck, suckling the soft flesh while a hand slid along her body, tickling the taught tips of her breasts, re-arousing the magic she’d known just moments before. His hips moved, easing in and out, she moaned as a mist of pleasure rippled out to envelope her every sense and emotion. Soon her skin, her soul… her very being tingled, begging,
screaming
for his touch. She could not get enough of him, and
clutched his strong shoulders, relishing the ragged cadence of their breathing, the pounding of his heart against her chest, and the friction of their bodies, skin on skin.

Vaguely she was aware of the pounding rain outside of her window, the erratic dancing of the shadows in the flash of lightening, and Brian murmuring words of sweet nothing in her ear. It all swirled round and round in her mind, building until she was completely out of control, reaching for a pinnacle.
Did Brian feel this as well?

“Grá mo chroí,” he whispered, soft lips tracing the pulse point at her throat as the
world around her exploded in a combination of gratification and sheer bliss. Fleetingly she wondered at the meaning of the words, but had no cognizance to ask as she floated upward in a cloud of ecstasy. Moments later Brian collapsed over her looking equally exhausted or perhaps sated.

As the ragged jaunt of his breathing slowed he rolled off of her, pulling her across his chest. In silence they held each other, reveling in what had transpired. For this singular moment Lydia was content simply to lie draped across his side, listening to the thud of his heart and enjoy the caress of his knuckles stroking up and down her arm. Throughout their ordeal and return home she had nurtured the hope he would come to his senses and agree to elope with her. Giving herself to him had been the last ploy in her arsenal to convince him of her love and devotion to him alone. She had no desire to consider that when this night was over she may find herself alone.

A light tapping drifted softly through the room. “Did you hear that?” Lydia murmured, wondering at the location of the sound. The rhythmic sound continued, almost like that of—

“Oh, my god, someone is coming!”  Lydia flew to the edge of the bed, scooping her nightdress from the ground. “The door isn’t locked.”

Pure panic lined Brian’s features as he rolled off the bed to find his own clothes. “Do ye think this could be when I get shot, lass?”

“Don’t think that way, Brian. Go wait on the balcony.”

“The balcony?”  He stopped to gape at her, one leg stuffed through his trousers, the other comically suspended in the air. “But it’s pourin’ rain, love.”

“Which is why no one suspicious will think to look for you there.”  She wiggled into her gown, and did what she could to straighten the tangled bedclothes.

“I could be hit by
lightning
,” he grumbled. “Why can I not hide in the closet?”

“Because that is the first place someone like my father would look,” she hissed in return, stuffing his shirt beneath the sheets. The rapping on the door grew more insistent. “Now, go.”

At last he complied, ducking through the heavy velvet curtains. “Wait, Brian.”  He poked his head back through the balcony drapes. “How do I look?”

He threw her a wicked grin. “As though I’ve just ravished you,” he said and disappeared. The rake.

Horrified Lydia grasped the length of her messy hair and twisted it viciously over one shoulder. It would have to do.

The door creaked open, admitting her stepmother. Lydia was relieved for the dim lighting so Olivia would not notice the flaming hue of her cheeks. Blast her blushing she’d never been able to keep a secret because of it.

“Is everything all right, dear?  I thought I heard a commotion a few minutes ago.”