The Ice Princess (8 page)

swal owed through the thickness in her throat. "No, it isn't that. Your touch pleases me. I was . . . surprised. That's al ."

"Ah." He looked at her a moment longer before he grinned, quick and hard. "Then let us see what else you might find surprisingly pleasing." He bent and

placed his mouth once again on her breast, pul ing strongly through the tissue of her chemise. Coral drew a shuddering breath at the exquisite sensation--

and at the almost overwhelming feeling of heartache. She laid her hand rather hesitantly on his head. She'd never done this before, this making love. But

she loved his hair and she gently pul ed the ribbon holding his queue free. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he moved to her other breast to

suck. She was used to being the one giving the pleasure, the one in control. To simply lie back and let him attend to her was strange. Strange, but not

unpleasant.

She closed her eyes, letting the erotic warmth fil her. She was already sensitive from her earlier orgasm and Isaac's attention to her breasts was making

her come alive again. She squirmed under him.

"Lie stil ," he murmured, and she thought she heard a hint of laughter in his voice.

She would've frowned at that, but he was pulling up her chemise, bunching the fabric in his hands, baring her legs, hips and belly. He drew the chemise

over her head and then she lay only in her stockings and garters. She blinked up at him, feeling a bit sil y. He smoothed his hands over the silk of her

stockings.

"These are very pretty," he said as he pul ed loose her pink ribbon garters.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

His lips twitched. "And these are pretty, too." He ran his hands down her legs, pushing her stockings before them. She wasn't sure if he referred t o her

legs or the slips of silk. He divested her of those and then she was entirely naked before him. As naked as he.

He placed his palms on her knees, spreading her wide, looking at her very center.

"But this," he said in a voice that had roughened and deepened, "is the prettiest of al ."

And he bent forward to kiss her there.

Coral gasped--she simply couldn't stop herself. She'd been touched there, of course she had. Had even had men who had wanted to do what Isaac was

so masterful y doing now. But al those times before she'd been working, had been very much in charge. She'd never let herself feel before.

Now feeling--almost painful y sweet feeling--overwhelmed her. He was licking her, licking the flesh that he'd touched with his fingers so recently. Each pass

of his tongue was slow, languidly thorough, explicitly right. Dear God, she wouldn't last a minute at this rate. His broad shoulders were between her thighs,

holding them open, and she convulsively clutched at them. She mustn't clench her fingers too hard, she thought fuzzily as he opened his mouth about her

bud, she mustn't hurt or scratch him.

"Coral," he whispered, his hot breath brushing over her wet, throbbing flesh. "Coral."

"What?" Dear God, he'd inserted his tongue into her and just as leisurely withdrawn it.

"Stop thinking."

How did he know? Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breath coming in pants and her hips were moving in quick little jerks that she couldn't seem to

control.

He took her in his mouth and sucked, flicking his tongue over and over until she arched and cried out her ecstasy. Her world exploded, shimmering heat

spreading from her center, her breath caught in her throat, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't stop. He kept licking and sucking until she was

near begging for mercy. Then suddenly he was crawling up her, big and feral, his erection brushing over her legs and thighs.

She opened her eyes, alarmed to find herself digging her nails into his shoulders. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--" He silenced her with a hard kiss,

open-mouthed and possessive.

"Never apologize for the pleasure you feel with me." She looked up at him in wonder, this good strong man who wanted to
make love
to her. Who wanted

to give her pleasure without any of her apologies. She didn't deserve him, she'd always known that, but for now she'd lay aside that knowledge and take

what he gave so freely. So she wrapped her arms about his neck and pul ed him closer. "Please make love to me, Isaac."

"Together." He bent and kissed the corner of her mouth softly.

"Together
we
make love."

He reached between them and positioned himself. Then he raised his head and gazed into her eyes as he slowly--oh, so slowly!--entered her.

"Like this," he whispered as his warm flesh parted hers, entered hers. He was hard she was soft and they united as sweetly as if they'd been created to

do this. Make love together. He settled on her, his hips fitted to the cradle of her thighs, his bel y pressed flat to hers. It was an ageold position, a position

that was impossibly intimate. She felt him inside of her and on top of her, dominant but not fearful y so.

"Is that it?" she whispered, daring to tease.

"Oh, no," he replied. "There's more, I assure you." He withdrew and thrust into her, his rhythm sure and strong. She lifted her hips to meet his. It wasn't as

elegant as merely laying and receiving him, but he said they'd do this together and she meant to fulfil their bargain. So she moved with him, their slippery

flesh sliding. His penis rubbed against her and into her with each stroke. Her breath came faster.

"Wrap your legs about me," he panted.

She lifted them high, crossing her ankles above his buttocks, locking them together. They could hardly move apart to thrust together again, but somehow

that made it even better. She felt a drop of his sweat splash on her shoulder. She heard the wet, squishing sounds they made. She smel ed the rising mist

of their bodies.

It was al so beautiful that she began to sob.

She was afraid he'd misunderstand, that he'd grow alarmed and stop, but instead he leaned down and nuzzled against her cheek. "Don't hold it in. Let

yourself feel it."

She did. It was like a glorious sun, rising, bright and hot, between them. She arched back her head and shouted, crying and laughing at the same time,

her emotions, her body, free and out of control. He watched her, she knew, stil rocking against her, stil softly kissing her, until his own body jerked and

stiffened and his own crest combusted with hers.

Until they both went up in flames together.

A slight frown marred the Ice Princess' perfectly cold face, but she continued.

"Next I will need the wisdom of the oldest man alive."

"Easily done," the soldier replied. "For whilst on my journey I stayed the
night with the oldest man alive. He was a jolly fellow and after I'd mended his

smoking pipe he gave me a book in which he'd written down everything he'd
learned in all his long life. I have it here."

And the soldier withdrew an old and battered book from his sack and gave it to
the Ice Princess. . . .

--from
The Ice Princess

Isaac opened his eyes with the realization that he held a soft warm weight against himself. Coral still slept, her pale fingers threaded through the hair on

his chest, her golden-red hair spread over his shoulder and against his cheek. He listened to her exhaled breaths and felt a peace such as he'd never

imagined before. And in that moment he made his decision: he would marry this woman, no matter their differences and her past. He would care for her

and live with her and love her until she let down her defenses and loved him back. Until they were both happy and at peace.

She opened her green eyes at that moment and blinked sleepily, yawning delicately like a cat. Her eyes focused o n his face and narrowed in sudden

suspicion. "What is that look on your face? What are you thinking?"

He leaned over to kiss her nose and then grinned. "I'm thinking that I could eat an entire joint of beef for breakfast."

She wrinkled her nose as if the kiss had tickled her. "I don't know about a joint of beef, but I'm sure we can find a gammon steak and some eggs for you."

"And coffee and toast?" he asked hopeful y.

"Of course." Her voice was cool, but her lips curved in a shy smile. "I'l ring for breakfast."

To his disappointment she rose immediately from the bed, modestly pul ing on her worn green silk wrap. He'd rather hoped to make love to her again. But

as he watched her quickly yank the bel -pul and then nervously straighten the little mirror and portrait on her dresser he understood. She needed time. He

must school himself to patience, win her over bit by slow bit.

So he rose as wel and donned his breeches and shirt, moving slowly, feeling as if he trod delicately about a wild animal who might be frightened by

sudden movement.

The maid came to the door and Coral went to consult with her before returning to the middle of the room. She stood twisting her pale hands together.

Isaac smiled. "Come sit with me at the table."

She nodded and sank into a chair.

He took a seat opposite her. "When I was a boy my mother would make me runny eggs for my breakfast."

She wrinkled her nose. "Runny eggs?"

"With the yolk stil liquid." He stretched his legs under the table. "She'd toast me slices of bread, butter them wel , and cut them into sticks and I'd dip them

into the yolks."

She seemed to relax a little. "Where did you grow up?"

"On the coast of Cornwal ."

"Real y? I would've thought London or nearby."

He shook his head. "I grew up near the wild windy cliffs. My father was a mining foreman and my brothers still work managing mines. But I always loved

the sea. My mother's father was the captain of a ship and he bought me my first commission."

She looked at the table, placing her hand flat against the surface. "Is she stil alive, your mother?"

"Yes." Someday soon he'd take her to meet Mother, but he didn't tel her of that. "And the sister you once spoke of? Is she alive as wel ?"

"Pearl." She smiled a little sadly. "Yes, she's stil alive. She's married, in fact, to a land steward in Essex. She seems happy."

"Seems?"

"I haven't seen her in years," Coral said softly. Isaac frowned, but before he could question her, the maid entered with a ful tray of food. There was a pause

as the maid set the table and arranged their repast, and then Coral thanked her and she left. Coral placed a large ham steak on a plate and handed it to

him. "At what age did you go to sea?"

"Twelve." Isaac helped himself to coddled eggs from a dish and some toast as wel . "And I was so homesick the first month that I thought I'd die before I

ever saw land again."

"Truly?" Coral paused, the teapot half-lifted toward her cup. "I can't imagine you uncertain or afraid."

"But I was just a boy like any other," he replied in amusement. "Al boys miss their mothers when first they go to sea."

"Al boys may miss their mothers, but I doubt very much that you were like al the other boys. You became a captain—surely they don't al rise so high."

"No, of course not." Isaac buttered a piece of toast. "I was fortunate to serve my first commission on a ship with a wise old captain. He took me under his

wing."

"You were fortunate."

"Yes, I was. He made me into the man I am today."

"Then I would thank him if I met him, for I like very much the man you are today," she replied quietly.

Isaac looked at her, wondering at the sad undertone in her voice.

"You'l put me to the blush."

"Yes. Wel ." She stared down at the table, fiddling with her silverware.

"I wonder that you haven't heard that quite often from other females."

"Not so very often," he said gently.

"You said your wife died years ago," she said, stil to the table.

"Haven't you thought of marrying again?"

"I'm away for months at a time at sea. A captain's wife can accompany him, but not many ladies are strong enough for that life. Alice, my late wife, certainly

wasn't. Any woman I take to wife would either have to be able to sail with me or be able to withstand months alone."

"Ah."

He was thril ed that she seemed interested in the subject, but frustrated that he couldn't read her face. Was the prospect o f being a captain's wife too

daunting? Or was she intrigued by the thought of sailing the sea?

"I confess," he said careful y, "that for a time I thought I would never remarry. Lately, however, I have begun to think a wife would be a very good thing."

"Oh," was al she said.

Stil , he decided to take her response in a positive light--she had not rejected the idea outright. Isaac made sure to keep the conversation light after that

and when he rose from the table some fifteen minutes later, his cheerful mood was restored.

"Tonight then?" he asked as he paused at the door to her room. "This is the seventh night of my winnings, I believe."

She caught her breath as if she'd just remembered a s well. Suddenly she was before him and she reached up and caught his face between her soft

hands and pul ed him down to kiss him. Her mouth was open, her lips wild, and he felt himself harden, took a step back into the room, crowding her

toward the bed.

"No," she gasped, tearing her mouth from his. She placed her hands flat on his chest and smiled, though her lips trembled. "I'm sorry. I know you have

business to do today. Go."

"You're sure?" He had business, but at the moment whatever it was had flown his mind.

"Yes." Her fingers worried at one of his brass buttons. "Just don't forget me."

He grinned. "Smal chance of that."

"You promise?"