Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(62)

“I can't believe it's really me, here in bed with you,” she murmured. “Am I dreaming? Am I really so far away from home?”

“No, you're not dreaming. But you are home now.” Luke eased the sheet down to her waist and slid his hand over her breast. The gold ring, warm from his skin, pressed lightly against the side of the shallow curve.

“My Uncle Kirill wouldn't approve of you. He doesn't like the English.”

“Your Uncle Kirill doesn't have to marry me. Besides, he would approve of me wholeheartedly if he knew how well I'm going to take care of you.” Idly he traced around her breast, where pearl-white skin edged soft pink. “I may not own a palace, my lady, but I'll keep you fed and sheltered. And I'll see to it that you're too busy to notice your humble surroundings.”

“Southgate Hall isn't what anyone would call humble,” Tasia said wryly. “But I would be happy living in a cottage like this, as long as you're here.”

“And there's nothing else you want?”

“Well…” She slid him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. “I would like some pretty dresses to wear,” she admitted, and he laughed.

“Whatever you want. Rooms full of dresses. A king's ransom of jewels.” He stripped the sheet away, admiring her slender white legs and feet. “Ostrich-skin shoes, silk stockings, ropes of pearls for your waist, and a fan of peacock feathers for your wrist.”

“Is that all?” she asked, laughing at the gaudy array he had described.

“White orchids for your hair,” he said after a moment's consideration.

“You'd make a spectacle of me.”

“But this is the way I prefer you—wearing nothing at all.”

“I prefer it also.” Tasia rolled on top of him, surprising them both with her boldness. “You're very nice to share a bed with,” she said, propping her elbows on his chest. She paused before adding self-consciously, “I didn't expect to like it so much.”

Luke's hand wandered over the smooth curve of her backside. “What did you expect?” he asked, amused.

“I thought it would be much more pleasant for a man than a woman. Certainly I didn't expect you to touch me the way you did, and…” She lowered her gaze to his chest, and a bright wash of color swept over her face. “I didn't think there would be so much…moving.”

“Moving,” Luke repeated softly. “You mean when I'm inside you?” She gave a small nod, and his chest went taut beneath her as he repressed a laugh. “Didn't anyone explain it to you?”

“Oh, after my engagement my mother admitted to me that a man and a woman ‘joined,’ but she never mentioned that anything happened afterward…you know, all the moving and the…”

“Climax?” he supplied gravely, as she foundered in abashed silence.

Tasia nodded, turning scarlet.

“Well, we could try it without so much moving,” he mused.

“No!”

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Then you're satisfied with the way we've been doing it so far?”

“Oh, yes,” she said earnestly, her blush remaining as he laughed in delight.

Rolling over, Luke trapped her between his elbows and settled his weight on her. “So am I.” He captured her lips with a lingering kiss. “More than I've ever been in my life.”

Tasia wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling her pulse quicken. “I would never want to share a bed with anyone else,” she said, when he lifted his head. “When I was betrothed to Mikhail, it was all I could think about, having to let him touch me.”

Luke's expression changed, turning watchful and tender. “And you were afraid?”

She looked up at him with remembered distress. “There was a constant knot of dread in my stomach. Most of the time Mikhail seemed as indifferent to me as he was to all other women. But sometimes…he would stare at me with those strange yellow eyes, and he would ask me questions I couldn't answer. He said I reminded him of a hothouse flower, and that I knew nothing of the world or of men. He said it would please him to experiment with me. I had a fair idea what he meant, and it terrified me.” She paused as she saw the anger passing over Luke's face. “Is it wrong for me to talk about him?”

“No,” he soothed, kissing the space between her brows and her forehead until the lines of worry eased. “I want to share all your memories, even the bad ones.”

Tasia raised a slim hand to his face, caressing his lean cheek. “Sometimes you surprise me. You can be so kind and understanding…but then I remember how you were about Nan Pitfield.”

“The pregnant housemaid?” Luke smiled ruefully. “I can be an ass at times, as you well know. But you don't seem to have any hesitation about telling me. Most people don't dare stand up to me that way. When you came to the library and scolded me about Nan, I wanted to throttle you.”

Tasia smiled, remembering his fury. “I thought you would.”

He turned his lips into her palm. “But as I saw the way you were bristling with challenge, and felt your heart pounding against my hand, I wanted you so badly I couldn't bear it.”

“Did you?” She laughed in surprise. “I had no idea.”