Gypsy Lady (32 page)

Misty-eyed,
she stared up at him, and his breath caught sharply in his throat. God! She is
so lovely, he thought gazing at her long lashes, spiky from the recent tears,
and her soft lips that were still inclined to tremble. Blindly his mouth closed
over hers in an urgent kiss that left Catherine breathless and hungry for
another, and Jason, as if compelled, muttered, "Oh, kitten, listen to me!
Things are all wrong between us, but this
is
our wedding night. We'll
never have another, and
others have found themselves married to strangers! Can't we for once put the
bitterness and reproaches behind us and—and—" He hesitated as his lips
moved caressingly over her upturned face.
"Oh, hell!
I don't know what I mean! At least for tonight don't fight me. Between us we
must
make this unfortunate marriage work!"

More
than willing to agree, Catherine melted against him, her raised mouth an
irresistible invitation. Jason gave a low groan, and his lips found hers once
more. Engrossed in one another, it came as a shock when the carriage finally
stopped before the Hotel Crillon. Jason, though, was extremely thankful—another
few miles of Catherine's unhoped for surrender, and he wouldn't have been able
to control
himself
from consummating their marriage on
the carriage floor!

Endeavoring
not to behave like a rutting boar, he was uncommonly careful once they had
reached the privacy of their rooms. Maintaining a tight rein on his desire, he
forced himself to order a light meal to be sent to their rooms and reluctantly
left Catherine to freshen herself.

Catherine,
very much aware of what the evening would hold, was nearly quivering with
trepidation and tremulous joy. Deliberately she ignored the unwelcome thought
that kept persisting—that while he made his hunger of her very evident and the
desire that they reach a workable agreement very evident—not once had Jason
mentioned or even hinted that he loved her or that she meant more to him than
any other woman! Fiercely she dashed the unpleasant thoughts away and in a
fever of anticipation hurriedly ordered Jeanne to prepare her bath.

For
the first time in her life she consciously wanted to make a man want her, and
as she rifled almost frenziedly through the overflowing armoire for a gown, she
wished she knew more of what a man would find irresistible. Finally, her gaze
alighted on a negligee set Jason had given her shortly after their arrival in
Paris. She had never thought to wear it, partly from sheer perversity and
partly from an inborn knowledge that those garments had been designed with one
thought in mind.

The
gown and robe were of purple silk, a purple so rich and dark that it appeared
almost black, and against Catherine's alabaster skin it was evocatively
sensual. The gown clung to her soft breasts like a second skin before swirling
with its yards of material like a purple cloud to her feet. Two minute ribbons
on each shoulder were all that held it up, and with a curl in the pit of her
stomach, Catherine knew that in a matter of minutes, with one small tug, the
ribbons would be undone by Jason.

The
robe had long, full sleeves so transparent that her arms gleamed whitely
through its folds. The long train floated seductively behind her as she entered
the room where Jason awaited her.

He
had his back to her, staring out the balcony windows. For a moment she
remained in the doorway, noting the small table set for two, the soft
candlelight creating its own special spell, and then her eyes swung to the tall
man, as yet unaware of her presence. He had changed into a silken robe and his
hair shining with dampness bespoke the fact that he too had taken the time to
bathe.

Hesitating,
suddenly uncertain, she knew now was the moment to turn and run—now before he
sensed she was there. She could slip back into her room and send Jeanne to him
with the message that she was ill and would not see him tonight. Intuitively
she knew he would not force himself on her this evening. But even as she
hovered uncertainly, he divined her presence and slowly rotated to face her.

The
quick fire that leaped to his eyes almost sent her whirling from the room, but
ignoring the frightened thump of her heart, she smiled shyly and allowed him to
seat her at the table. She was so conscious of him, his green eyes dark with
that quick flame of possessive desire and his full mouth frankly sensual, that
the following meal was forever a blur in her memory. What they ate and drank
she
never remembered, but his face, dark and un- revealing
except for the flicker in his eyes, was burned into her mind for all time.
Watching his long fingers curl carelessly around a Baccarat crystal glass, she
was unable to stop a shiver of excitement from sliding over her body. Soon
those long fingers and lean hands would have her body at their mercy, and the
thought made a coil deep in her loins tighten almost painfully.

Incapable
of standing the suspense building in the quiet room, Catherine suddenly jumped
to her feet and stammered, "It—it—it's terribly hot in here! I think I'd
like a breath of air."

Lazily,
Jason watched her cross to the French doors and throw them wide, allowing the
cool night air, lightly scented from the blooming acacia trees, to drift into
the room. Her body becoming tenser by the moment, she stared blankly down at
the avenue below. She felt, rather than saw, Jason come up behind her. His
hands were warm and gentle when they closed over her shoulders, but she still
couldn't control the slight stiffening of fear that coursed through her.

Firmly
Jason pulled her body back against him, but for several seconds he did nothing
more alarming than slowly caress her arms and shoulders while his lips traveled
lightly over her hair and brushed the sensitive spot where her neck joined her
smooth shoulders. It wasn't until he felt her relax completely against him that
he gently turned her to face him. Catherine's heart caught in her throat at the
expression on his face.

In
the moonlight they solemnly studied one another, and then Jason kissed her. It
was a gentle, questioning kiss as well as a demanding
one,
suddenly hardening into passion, and eagerly Catherine opened her lips under
the onslaught of desire. Her blood was pounding in her temples when Jason at
last raised his head, and she knew a hungry, throbbing pain deep in her loins.
His eyes searched her face, and then without a word he swung her up into his
arms and carried her into the bedchamber.

With
quick, deliberate movements, he threw the gown and robe on the floor, and as he
laid her on the bed, he gave a low, husky laugh. "I hope you're not
planning on sliding out from underneath me at the crucial moment again?"
he teased, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

Too
aware of the hard, warm body above her, she could only stare dumbly, and when
he joined her on the bed and pulled her to him, it was as if she had been
thrust into a hot second skin, her body molding itself next to his until they
were so close that not even a shadow could come between them. His mouth was
firm and knowing as it closed over hers, and at first he was satisfied with
her untaught answering of his hunger. But then with desire driving him, his
lips opened hers, and he drank fiercely of the sweetness of her mouth as his
hands tantalizingly explored her body.

He
was gentle with her, taking his time, his mouth following his hands as they
moved over her shoulders and breasts. Catherine's emotions were spinning
wildly. Instinctively her own untried hands hesitatingly began to travel over
his body, moving slowly down over his muscled strength, down his broad back and
firm buttocks, gathering courage to touch him as she had done the one time at
the inn. But there was no need to bolster her courage because Jason gently but
surely guided her hand to him, and when her palm closed around him, a low growl
of pleasure burst from his lips.

"Kitten—
mon
petit coeur
—ah—not that way—this way!" Expertly he taught
her how to please a man, his hand over hers deftly showing her the way,
encouraging her onward with soft words when she faltered. Soon he gave a
breathless little laugh and said, "Slowly, slowly my pet, or this will be
over before we've even started!" And then he moved his body slightly away
from her while his hands still caressingly discovered her and slowly moved over
her flat belly down to her trembling thighs. She couldn't help the involuntary
impulse to tighten her legs against him, and his hands instantly stopped their
search. Against her mouth, he questioned, "Kitten?" and then kissed
her deeply. She was lost, her thighs falling apart to let him explore her very
being.

His
touch was like a flame shooting up through her body, and as his lips and hands
continued to arouse her beyond anything she had ever known, unconsciously she
moaned, her hands reaching for him hungrily. And this time she needed no
guidance as she practiced what he had taught her. She was nearly shaking from
the force of the emotion that held her enthralled, and then when she thought
she could cry aloud for the pleasure he gave her, gently and slowly, he entered
her. It was such blessed relief to at last be possessed that a satisfied sigh
broke from her lips, and Jason laughed low. "It's not over yet, my sweet.
You're just learning."

Then
he began to move deep inside her, and the strong, deep emotions he had aroused
seemed to build and combine themselves into one hard, aching feeling between
her thighs. Her hands beating frantically against his
back,
unconsciously drove him on, and his body answered the urgings of hers as he
plunged deeper and harder into her. Her body taut as a bowstring, Catherine
felt the huge bubble of ecstasy that was swelling inside her burst, and she was
left floating and dazed on a languid cloud of pure, sensuous pleasure.

She
was so stunned by her own response that she missed Jason's eruption following
quickly on her own, and she came back to reality cradled in his arms, his lips
and hands still caressing her body.

Throughout
the night that followed, again and again Jason aroused her to the point of near
madness before taking her, and each time she experienced those exquisite
emotions that heralded fulfillment. He couldn't seem to let her alone, allowing
her to doze only lightly before again his body drove him to possess her.
Catherine was as eager as he for that possession, and she responded to the fire
in him with a blaze of her own. She stopped him only once—his dark head was
traveling lovingly over her belly, and his lips were on the point of following
his fingers between her thighs when a shocked gasp broke from her, and she
stiffened, thrusting her body away from him, and stuttered, "No—no—I
don't—
no!"

A
queer smile on his lips, he murmured, "Never mind. Some other time I'll
teach you everything there is to know between a man and a woman. You're such an
apt pupil, my love, that I forget you're still nearly a virgin." And then
his lips took hers, and she forgot everything as his hands and body played with
hers, drawing her deeper into the well of pleasure.

Dawn
was spilling into the room before sleep finally captured her, and she woke
hours later to discover that she was in her own room. Puzzled, she stared at
the familiar hangings, and as full memory of the past night returned, a hot
blush stained her cheeks, and childlike she snuggled deeper into the covers.
Vividly now, she remembered Jason scooping her up in his arms and carrying her
into her own bedchamber. After he had placed her under the warm quilt he had
kissed her love-bruised mouth lingeringly and had buried his face against her
throat muttering, "If I keep you with me, I'll make love to you all day,
as well as all night! You're like a fire in my blood and I can't seem to have
enough of you." He made to leave her, but Catherine with new-found
confidence reached out and touched him deliberately. And with a groan of
sudden, renewed hunger, he sank down beside her, and once more the magic was
between them.

But
now memory of her boldness made her blush all the more hotly, and she wondered
how, after last night, she was ever going to face him. All the nasty, unwelcome
thoughts she had pushed aside yesterday returned to devil her unmercifully.

Not
once during the past night, even when their passion had been at its height, had
he mentioned love. True, he had spoken love words and had called her his little
love, but never had he given her any other indication that he wanted more than
a responding body in his arms.

Catherine
could fool herself once, but the thought of other nights of being possessed by
him—knowing he didn't love her—was unbearable! Now, after last night, how was
she to repulse him when he came, as surely he would, to claim his husbandly
rights? If only he had said he loved her—if only he
did
love her!

The
disturbingly unhappy thoughts continued to nibble and snap at the edge of her
mind as she automatically bathed and allowed Jeanne to dress her. Staring at
herself in the mirror as Jeanne brushed and arranged her shining locks, she
searched her face intently for signs that now she was different. The face that
gazed back at her was the same, yet she
was
different—there was no use denying it.