He wiped her cheeks gently. “We should probably get rid of your dirty clothes and brush your hair.”
She gave him a curious look. “You do like doing that, don’t you?”
He grinned, abashed. “Can’t help it, with beautiful hair like yours.”
It was nice of him to just call her clothes dirty instead of mentioning the blood splatters, and she did want to get rid of them, so she helped him get them off her, saying, “They need to be burned.”
“We don’t need a room full of smoke. I’ll deal with them later.”
He found her brush and had her sit between his legs on the edge of the bed. He unwound her braid first, then began the long, gentle strokes that felt so good. “Picture my flower garden,” he said softly. “If I were to stay here longer, what would you recommend adding to it? I was thinking violets, but would roses be better? Are they popular in England?”
She laughed, aware that he was trying to make her feel better; it was certainly working. “Everyone knows English roses are the most beautiful.”
She turned halfway to face him, arrested again by his handsome face, but it was suddenly very important that he know how grateful she was. “Thank you for rescuing me and taking care of me.”
She leaned over to kiss his newly smooth cheek, but didn’t lean all the way back, still staring at him. He’d done so much for her today, but she suddenly wanted more, and before she could stop them, the words came out: “Kiss me.”
He didn’t hesitate, put his mouth to hers gently at first, and then more passionately. Had he already been thinking about this and only resisted for her sake? It only took moments for her to wrap an arm about his neck and kiss him back with equal passion.
A different realm, this, sensual, feelings so new they were yet to be explored, so far removed from what she was escaping. She delved deeper, quickened at the touch of his palm to her cheek, her neck, her breast. When a hand moved ever so slowly up her leg, it was hot skin she felt, making her realize she was only wearing her underclothes now. But propriety didn’t intrude, not even a little. There was just him and what he was doing.
He laid her back on the bed and joined her, half lying on top of her because there was so little room—or because he wanted to. She liked the position, liked feeling so much of him against her. His body, so long, so strong, was her shield from harm. He was her guardian knight, but tonight he was much more than that. He’d saved her life today, rescued her from danger and darkness. And now he was showing her the sweeter side of life—the tenderness! The exquisite pleasures she’d never imagined.
She wanted to say thank you, but even more she didn’t want to distract him, not when he was still kissing her, still moving one hand up and down her body in such an exciting way. He raised one of her legs over his shoulder, then bent down to kiss her breast, but he also slid an arm beneath her between her legs to lift her even closer to him. It felt unusual and yet thrilling, the heat of his mouth over her nipple, that hard arm rubbing between her legs, igniting little fires that coursed through her. Little moans escaped from her in gasps as he continued to kiss her breasts.
She almost cried out when his warmth left her as he rose to his knees to take off his shirt, but she was arrested by his new appearance, by how handsome he was. Good God, he was tantalizing, and all those muscles, flexed as he tossed the shirt away, flexed again as he removed his gun belt and then started on his belt. Her aunt had been so right when they’d had “that talk” and Elizabeth had warned, “Some men don’t want to be naked in bed, but some do. Hope for one that does.” She hadn’t really understood, but now she did—because this man was a feast for the eyes, Adonis in the flesh. Just looking at him set her pulse racing!
He’d already untied her chemise, those silk ties, a mere decoration, never used because it was easier to slip the garment over her head. It lay open now, both of her breasts exposed, so she didn’t even think of protesting when he removed her drawers, too, longer to watch him, longer to be fascinated by his own undressing.
She was fully embracing the unknown, but she still felt a moment of apprehension when he discarded his pants and she saw the size of his manhood. It might have been better to cut her curiosity short. She closed her eyes. She didn’t have to know everything. And yet the moment he slid up her body, his skin against hers, and kissed her deeply again, the thought was gone and she opened her eyes. She did want to know everything, to feel everything sensual he could share with her.
Her arms were around him and she moved a hand into his hair, running her fingers through it. The black mane was still long, but not so shaggy now, even soft to the touch. But his beardless face still fascinated her, and she cupped one of his cheeks to feel stubble already returning. She smiled. She probably wouldn’t shave either if the results barely lasted a day.
He put his hand over hers, brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed the pulse under her wrist. He was staring at her now, those lovely powder-blue eyes, warm with passion and . . . concern?
“You’ve been through a lot today,” he said. “I didn’t mean for things to progress this quickly, but I want you so much. I don’t want to stop, but I will if you want to wait until you feel better?”
Stop? “No, I want this, want you. Please don’t stop.”
He groaned and kissed her deeply. Then she felt it, gone in a blink, her maidenhood. And him inside her, foreign but still, waiting. She’d closed her eyes with a gasp but opened them now to see his smile, then felt that amazing length sliding deeper. Divine. There was more to explore, more to feel as he moved steadily inside her, then faster, bringing forth multiple gasps from her. But she sensed something else approaching that widened her eyes, gathering momentum, elusive until she was overwhelmed by a sudden burst of pure, wondrous pleasure.
She cried out with it, held on to Morgan’s shoulders tightly, utterly incredulous that something like that even existed. And it left all sorts of unexpected feelings behind, tenderness, caring, gratitude, and an urge to hug him, to simply hug him.
Chapter Thirty
VIOLET RESISTED THE URGE to continue hugging the man on top of her, feeling a little shy now for having behaved so passionately with him. Morgan had felt the same amazing thing she did, had been quite loud about it, but he was still now. Nonetheless, she couldn’t resist lightly caressing his shoulder and muscular arm. His face was pressed between her shoulder and her neck, his breathing still labored, his arms keeping most of his weight from her chest. She wondered if they would sleep like that. She didn’t think she’d mind. But the bed was so narrow, would it even be possible for two people to sleep on it with any degree of comfort? And once he slept, his arms would relax and she’d end up crushed and have to wake him, and they might end up making love again. . . .
She frowned. They probably shouldn’t do that again, no matter how nice—no, how amazing it had been. Being this close to Morgan, feeling surrounded by him, made her feel so safe, so comfortable. But she was hungry, very hungry, noisily so.
He chuckled when he heard her belly growl. “That stew I made for lunch should be hot by now.”
He kissed her neck, then her cheek, before he lifted himself off her and headed to the fireplace. Naked. A blush crept up her cheeks.
She got up quickly, grabbed her valise, and rushed outside to the porch to dress, yelling back, “Do put something on!”
“I’ve only been sleeping with my pants on for your sake, Violet. It’s not how I usually sleep.”
“Your thoughtfulness was and is appreciated!”