PHANTOM IN TIME (27 page)

He
led her straight to the outside stairs that curled upward to the second story.
They climbed the steps and proceeded through French doors into a darkened room.

Jacques
pinned Bella against the closed door and kissed her again, ravishing her mouth
with his lips and tongue. She sensed he was out of control—that she was,
too—and, heaven help her, she loved it! She could feel the tension of his body,
the hardness of his arousal pressing against her pelvis, causing potent quivers
of desire to further stagger her reeling senses.

Just
as she thought she might expire from unassuaged longing, Jacques left her for a
moment. She spotted him in a pool of light near the bed. Having lit a taper, he
set it down and smiled.

“We'll
make love by candlelight,
ma belle,”
he whispered, “so I may worship you
thoroughly.”

Bella
could not respond, her throat dry, heart pounding, and knees weak.

“Come,
Bella,” he whispered, extending his hand toward her.

Staring
from him to the beautiful Mallard half-tester bed with its pale silk hangings
and gold satin counterpane, Bella knew a final moment of panic. What was she
doing giving herself to this man when she knew their future together might be
doomed? As much as she ached for Jacques, she gazed at him helplessly.

“Bella,”
he whispered sternly, “if you want to run, run now. Otherwise,
ma belle,
you are finished running. I'm going to have you.”

His
sexy, possessive words tore at her resolve. She wanted him so much that she was
past running, past fighting. And what if she lost him—if he died, if she were
swept away in time again? Wouldn't she always regret that they had never fully
expressed their feelings? No matter what happened, she must have this glorious
night, this memory of him, to cherish in her heart forever.

Uttering
a wince of longing, she stepped forward into his arms. With a moan, he clutched
her close, kissed her hair . . . and then she heard his low, self-satisfied
chuckle.

“I
knew you'd come to me.”

“Oh,
you rogue!”

“Call
me what you will,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheek.
“Just share my bed, darling Bella.”

She
glanced again at the magnificent carved rosewood headboard. “This is your
mother's bed, isn't
it?”          

He
leaned over to nibble at her neck.
“Oui.
I promised I would show it to
you, no?”

“It
is quite beautiful.”

His
hand roved her spine and caressed the curves of her bottom. “Not nearly so
beautiful as the woman who shall shortly grace it.”

Bella
stiffened slightly. “How many others have there been, Jacques?”

“None
other as special as you.”

She
laughed nervously. “I'm sure you say that to every lady you seduce.”

He
pulled back to gaze at her solemnly. “If I have, I've never meant it like I
mean it tonight.” He slid a hand over the velvet of her gown, then reached
upward, carefully removing the gold crown from her head. “Now—I believe you've
expressed some concern about Teresa's costume. 'Tis best we dispense with it,
no?”

With
her heartbeat pounding in her ear, she nodded toward his hand. “Guess I've
already lost my halo.”

Chuckling,
Jacques laid the crown on the bedside table. “Turn around, love.”

Bella
complied, and felt gooseflesh tingling her spine as Jacques skillfully undid
the hidden hooks and buttons on the Venetian Renaissance costume. She shivered
as he lifted the velvet folds over her head, and stepped out of her slippers.
Wearing just her chemise, bloomers, and stockings, she watched Jacques cross
the room and carefully lay the costume over a Belter chair. He returned to her
side, raking his gaze, dark with desire, over her.

Smiling
as if in anticipation of a glorious banquet, he pulled at the tie to her
bodice, and she touched his hand. “Jacques, you are certain?”

“As
certain as I am that I'm yours forever and you are mine.”

His
smoldering expression further intensified his words as he gripped her beneath
the arms and lifted her onto the bed. She watched in fascination as he removed
his shirt, and stared boldly at the beautiful muscles of his lean chest, the
tufts of dark hair. Spotting the large bulge at the front of his trousers, she
breathed with an effort.

He
joined her on the bed, kissing her tenderly while his fingers worked to untie
her chemise. She felt no shame when her breasts were exposed to his heated
scrutiny. He looked up at her and grinned, and his smile stirred her soul. He
leaned over, pushing down the delicate linen and latching his mouth onto her
nipple. Oh, such heaven! Bella sobbed her pleasure as the tightening of her
nipple beneath his warm, hot mouth caused a corresponding exquisite tightening
in her womanhood.

“You
like that,
ma belle?”
he murmured, flicking his tongue to and fro over
the taut peak.

“Oh,
yes!” she cried, reeling at the new and potently erotic sensations. She sank
her fingers into his thick hair and inhaled the exciting scent of him.

Jacques
slowly plied both her breasts with his skilled lips and tongue, until she could
bear no more and begged him to kiss her. He locked his mouth with hers for an
endless moment, while slowly drawing her chemise farther down her body. Bella
squirmed in delight, her entire body breaking out in gooseflesh.

He
covered her with his hard body, and she moaned as his hot, naked chest crushed
her aroused breasts.

“It
feels good,
ma belle?”
he asked huskily.

“Oh,
yes! Yes!” She clutched him tightly to her heart.

“You
are so incredibly soft,” he murmured.

“And
you're so incredibly hard.”

Another
devilish chuckle escaped him. Bella caressed the smooth muscles of his
shoulders, arms, and chest. Jacques roved his hands over her breasts and belly.
They floated together in a carnal euphoria, kissing and caressing. But when
Jacques's fingers moved to the ties on her bloomers, she tensed.

“Do
not be afraid,
ma petite,”
he murmured. “You are exquisite, and we are
meant to be together like this.”

Meant
to be,
thought Bella dreamily. Yes, she sensed that their joining was
somehow preordained and inescapable. Where their future would take them, she
did not know. But she belonged to Jacques this night.

She
gasped as he tugged off her bloomers and stockings. He drew his gaze slowly up
her naked body, then gave a smile that sent new darts of heat shooting through
her.

His
mouth took hers in a scorching kiss, their tongues plunging and mating with
complete abandon. His hand moved between her thighs, parting and stroking her.
She tossed her head, stiffening beneath him as his fingers slid into her
feminine cleft.

“Easy,
ma belle,”
he murmured. “I only wish to make you ready for me.”

Yet
she felt ready now! especially as he plied her so skillfully. His fingers
flicked to and fro over her tiny nub, arousing her to a sweet riot of feeling,
until she shamelessly moaned. He penetrated her tightness with a finger, and
she squirmed and closed against the delightful invasion. His strong thighs held
her open to him as he caressed her intimately, arousing even more shocking,
potent sensations. She dug her fingernails into his back and writhed at his
touch, unwittingly aiding him as he probed deeper and heightened the taut
aching inside her.

At
last, as the hot curling pleasure overwhelmed her fear and doubt, Bella stopped
resisting and even moved against him. She heard his murmured encouragement, and
intuitively reached down to touch him through his trousers. A fierce shudder
seized him and he ground his mouth into hers. Never having touched a man so
boldly before, Bella was amazed by the size and hardness of Jacques's arousal.
He felt like hot steel in her hand, and her unabashed, experimental touches
were soon rewarded by new groans of pleasure.

He
drew back to regard her with burning desire. “Careful,
chérie.
I may not
be able to contain myself.”

She
slipped her fingers inside his trousers, touching his naked organ, marveling at
its warmth, its softness, its incredible strength. “I want you, Jacques,” she
half sobbed. “I want you inside me.”

“Oh,
ma chérie.”
The agonized endearment escaped his tongue as his trembling
fingers unbuttoned his trousers. A moment later, she felt the rigid tip of him
probing her wetness. He felt satiny hot and so big she wondered if her virginal
vessel could withstand him. But even that thought excited her more than it
alarmed her. She was panting and desperate, out of her mind with wanting him,
beyond stopping.

He
pulled back slightly, his dark gaze questioning her. “You are ready?”

She
nodded eagerly.

“No
turning back,
ma chère?”

“Never!”

He
penetrated slightly, searing her with his heat, wrenching a wince from her. He
leaned over and comforted her with his lips.

“Ah,
ma belle,
you are heavenly, so warm and tight. Try to relax and it will
not be so bad, eh?”

Wide-eyed,
she nodded bravely, encouraging him with a sweet, lingering kiss.

Jacques
kissed her back tenderly and pressed into her tightness. His confident downward
thrust left her crying out at the flash of sweet anguish. She felt split apart
by him, yet the burning invasion was gloriously intimate. She reveled in
feeling so close to him—bonded, a part of him.

Murmuring
an apology, Jacques caught her quivering lips with his, drowning her with his
tongue as he sheathed himself fully inside her. “Now we are one, eh,
ma
belle?”
he asked huskily.

Bella
blinked back happy tears. “Yes . . . truly one.”

Jacques
began to move, tentatively at first, kissing Bella and soothing her until the
fingers that dug into his spine relaxed and caressed the smooth flesh of his
back. Moving with greater confidence, like a song slowly building its fervor,
he stirred a tension inside her that drove her to new levels of intensity. When
she reached downward, slipping her hands inside his trousers and kneading his
buttocks, his passions soared free and he devoured her with all the love
burning in his body.

At
his fierce, untamed possession, Bella whimpered in agonized pleasure. Never had
she felt anything so sublime as the hard, throbbing pressure of him inside her.
She felt taken out of herself, all her emotions exposed as she and Jacques
climbed into a realm where nothing existed beyond the obsession for shared
ecstasy, the need to ride those shattering crescendos to sublime heights. She
clung to him, lifting her hips, eagerly letting him consume her as the song of
their love trembled at its climax, then burst into the rapturous harmony of
release. She cried out his name as he spent himself inside her . . .

***

While
Bella slept, Jacques gazed down at her in awe. She was so beautiful, her long
black eyelashes resting against her lovely cheeks, her lips still rosy from his
kisses. Their passion had been glorious, and Bella's giving him the gift of her
virginity had moved him deeply, much as he had hated hurting her. He vowed he
never would again—that her brief pain had only christened the bright voyage of
their future together.

Why
had he not seen before that she was the one? Tonight she had filled his heart,
his soul, with her powerful singing. She had made his life, his future,
complete. Her voice was incredible—like none he had ever heard before! She was
meant to share his life, both in and out of the opera—so proud, so beautiful,
so spirited and strong!

He
loved her so! He wanted her with him always, at his side, in his bed, bearing
his children. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her soft flesh,
watching her smile in her sleep. His heart swelled with a tenderness so intense
it hurt.

“You
are the one,
chérie,”
he murmured, tears in his voice.

He
might have been blind before, but Jacques knew now that Bella was his destiny,
and that was enough. Never again would they be parted!

Chapter Twenty-five

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“Wake
up, beautiful, and have your breakfast. We have plans to make.”

When
Bella awakened, morning had already spread its silken rays across the elegant
bedroom, threads of light dancing on the carved mahogany furniture and dappling
the fine Persian rug. She looked up to see Jacques stride in through the open
French doors that fronted the balcony. He carried a wicker tray filled with
china dishes and a red rose in a crystal vase. The scent of moist morning air
wafted over her.

Bella's
heart thumped. Jacques looked entirely too sexy in his burgundy brocade
dressing gown, which dipped open almost to his waist, revealing his muscular
chest with its dark hair. Recalling how that coarse hair had erotically abraded
her bare breasts, she shuddered in delight. His intimate grin also unnerved
her, especially as she glimpsed that dark curl dangling over his forehead and
the sensual shadow of whiskers along his strong jaw.

Remembering
all the wicked things they had done last night, and realizing she lay totally
nude in his bed, Bella felt warmth suffuse her cheeks and a tingling heat
invade her body. Mercy, they had kissed and caressed almost all night long!

It
had been shocking and wonderful, almost more sexy because they hadn't actually
made love again. After arousing her to a second fever pitch, Jacques had tried
to penetrate her, but her wince of discomfort had stopped him. With a groan, he
had withdrawn and held her tenderly. Yet, feeling the unassuaged desire
coursing through his powerful body, Bella had caressed his distended manhood,
driving him to his climax . . .