Honor Bound(60)
He adored his bride.
Holding her gently and kissing away her nervous shyness, he removed the rest of her clothing. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. She kept her eyes closed while he undressed.
Then he came to her, gathered her in his arms, and held her body close to his while sheer ecstasy, as sweet and thick as honey, rivered through him. She was trembling.
"Alice," he whispered, "don't be afraid. For as long as you want, I'm content to just hold you. I know you're frightened and I know why. But I swear to you and to God that I would never do anything to hurt you."
"I know that, Gene. I do. It's just that it's been so long and—"
"I know. You don't have to say any more. Nothing will happen until you want it to." He held her protectively, commanding his body to hold itself in check. He knew he must practice infinite patience with this woman who was worthy of being cherished.
Eventually she relaxed and he felt encouraged enough to stroke her caressingly. Her skin was satiny smooth, yet vibrant. She had the body of a woman twenty years younger. He worshipped the breasts that were still high and round and firm. When he touched her there, she moaned, but after one quick glance at her face, he knew it was out of pleasure and not out of fear. The lips that kissed the dusky crests were as soft as a spring rain.
He wooed her that way, alternately arousing and soothing, until he knew she was ready. And then the loving was achingly sweet, exquisitely tender, and in the end, wildly passionate.
Later, holding her against him, he sighed into her hair. "If I had had to wait another twenty years for you, Alice Greywolf Dexter, you would have been worth it."
"And you, Gene," she said, kissing his chest. "And you, my love."
* * *
Lucas closed the barn door and latched it. This might be his mother's wedding day, but on a ranch the work never ended. As soon as all the guests had departed, he had changed clothes and put in a full day's work. He was tired, having had to get up early that morning and drive into town for the wedding.
Tomorrow a buyer was coming to look at some of his horses. He'd spent all day grooming them. If they brought a good price, which he planned on demanding, maybe he would have enough money to hire a ranch hand.
Perhaps his being disbarred had worked out for the best after all. He doubted that he could run a ranch and a law office at the same time. He loved the land and the herd because they had belonged to his grandfather. He liked working outdoors. He didn't even mind the long hours.
But he missed practicing law. He had always enjoyed a good fight. When he had matured to the point of knowing that brawling never solved anything, the courtroom provided him an arena. He had been an excellent courtroom gladiator. He missed the legal skirmishes and the satisfaction of having done his best whether he won the case or not.
He peeled off his shirt and went to the outdoor faucet on the foundation of the house. He sluiced water over his head, his neck, shoulders, arms and chest, rinsing off the top layer of dust and sweat.
Every time he thought about the kindness of friends like Johnny Deerinwater, he got a lump in his throat. Without them he wouldn't have the house. It would have taken him years to finish it in his spare time, not to mention the money it would have cost. He and Aislinn—
Damn! He hated it when his mind automatically paired them together. Aislinn and I. Aislinn and me. We. Us. He didn't ever like thinking of them as a unit, yet his brain stubbornly continued to.
Fuming over the mental slip, he rounded the corner of the house. If he had walked into a wall, he couldn't have come to a more abrupt standstill. He was standing only a few yards from their open bedroom window. Aislinn walked past it. He could hear her humming and see her shadow gliding across the walls as she moved about the room.
That rectangular patch of light looked inviting in the darkness that surrounded the house. It beckoned him as a lighthouse does a sailor. It represented all things warm and cozy and comfortable. Home. He was hypnotized by that open window. He couldn't force himself to move away from it, even though he supposed that this was an invasion of Aislinn's privacy. Would you stop thinking like a damn fool? The woman is your wife.
Still, he felt just a little ashamed of his window-peeping. Especially when she stepped into full view again. Especially when she began to undress.
He stood stock-still in the deep shadows, not moving so much as an eyelash.
Lucas watched her unbutton the cuff on the sleeve of her sheer blouse. Much as he hadn't wanted to notice, he had to admit that she had looked beautiful that day. The blouse she had worn was cut like a man's shirt, except that the sleeves were much fuller and the cuffs much wider. The tips of the collar reached far down on her chest.
The blouse had small pearl buttons. As she bent over the ones on her cuff, her hair fell forward in a golden cascade. He wanted nothing more then than to bury his face in the stuff, to feel its cool silken movement against his skin. He already knew what it felt like against his belly. What about his thighs? His—
Sonofabitch! Don't even think about that.
When she pulled her blouse off, which she did with a provocative lack of haste, he had an unrestricted view of the lingerie that had teased him all day. Held up by spaghetti-thin straps, it was lacy and feminine and cupped her full breasts as if it adored them. They swelled over the top of it, creamy and enticing in the lamplight. God, he wanted to taste her there. The camisole wasn't sheer enough to see through, since it had obviously been designed to show beneath the blouse. But even from this distance, Lucas imagined he could see the dark centers of her breasts through it. He imagined his mouth there, too. The skirt she had worn was the color of the eastern sky just before daybreak. It was made of a rustling fabric that had driven him into a fine madness all day as it moved against her body. He held his breath as she reached behind her to unbutton it. It seemed to take forever. Then the skirt slithered past her hips, over her thighs, and down her legs, which were encased in pale stockings.