The Counterfeit Betrothal (17 page)

“You’ll what?” she demanded, looking up at him provocatively.

“Thrash you to within an inch of your life!” he growled before possessing himself once again of her lips with his own.

22

Emmaline
stood staring at him, a look that might have been fear etched upon her face in the flickering candlelight. Behind her, she was all too well aware, the bed lay waiting for them. Jeremy moved closer, his voice quietly determined as he said, “I warned you, madam, and now you must pay the price.”

Then, without another word, his hand reached out, grasped the front edge of her gown and ripped it open to the floor. Jerking it free of her, Jeremy flung it to the far corner of the room. Emmaline quivered as he moved closer, his arms reaching around her, imprisoning her against the length of his body. As his dressing gown fell open she could feel the evidence of his desire for her pressed against the triangle between her legs and she moaned.

Jeremy did not wait but lifted her at once and carried her to the bed, flinging her down, throwing off his robe, and then joining her, trapping her body beneath his own. One hand traced a curve of her cheek while the other made free of the globes of her breasts. She gasped as fingers stroked her nipples then trailed downward toward her most private of places. “N-no,” she whispered softly.

“No?” Jeremy echoed with eyes that glittered. “Do you mean you would prefer this? Or this?”

She gasped again as his hands stroked her in different ways and she felt the waves of longing once more seizing her. Hesitantly her own hands reached out to touch Jeremy, his chest, his back, his very masculinity. “What—what are you doing to me?” she demanded as reason threatened to desert her.

He laughed softly, some would have said menacingly. “I warned you, madam,” he repeated. “I told you that you would lose all sense of who you were when I made love to you. I warned you that the longer you made me wait, on this our wedding day, the more impatient I would become. And now you suffer the consequences, my beloved.” And before she could speak he covered her lips with his own, possessing them, persuading them, seducing them until her arms were tight around his neck and her moans were moans of impatience that matched his own. And then he possessed all of her, riding her with a gentleness that soon wiped out all memory of the brief pain that had come with possession. Together they crested, crying out each other’s names at the same moment. Then, together, they rode the wave down until they lay in each other’s arms in quiet contentment.

“Is it like this for everyone?” Emmaline asked, at last, in quiet awe.

Amusement tinged Jeremy’s voice as he replied, “Would that it were, my love.”

Raising herself up on one elbow to look at him, Emmaline asked accusingly, “Is it this way when you are with your mistresses?”

Growling an oath, Jeremy caught her to him and kissed her thoroughly. “I have no mistresses now,” he told her. “Nor do I think I am likely to have need of them while I am wed to you. But if you so much as mention the word again I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she asked, eyes dancing.

Very deliberately he traced the shape of her breasts with an errant finger before he replied, “I shall be forced to prove to you that I have no need of anyone else.”

Then, as she laughed joyously, Jeremy once more claimed his bride.

About the Author

April Lynn Kihlstrom was born in Buffalo, New York, and graduated from Cornell University with an M.S. in Operations Research. She, her husband, and their two children enjoy traveling and have lived in Paris, Honolulu, Georgia, and New Jersey. When not writing, April Lynn Kihlstrom enjoys needlework and devotes her time to handicapped children.