Part 18 (2/2)

He pulled back and looked at her.

She smiled and, with an archness at odds with her usual expression, her humming changed into a song.

She was singing to him.

He managed a smile, though it took some effort. Was this a Scottish tradition? A way to woo that he'd somehow missed? Or was she just being . . . Roza?

She must have taken his silence for approval, for she sang louder. Her voice alternated between husky sweet and painfully flat, and yet somehow it didn't matter. She was here, in his arms, singing to him. Only to him.

He didn't know why that mattered, but it did.

He tightened his arms about her, a fierce surge of pa.s.sion thrumming in his veins. Her lips pouted over a vowel, and then pressed together to make a p, and with each movement of her soft lips, he was newly enthralled, newly charmed, more deeply stirred.

When she took a breath to begin a new stanza, he kissed her with all of the pent-up pa.s.sion she'd roused. He kissed her to let her know he wanted her. To let her know he'd been thinking of her, and dreaming of her, and that this-holding her in his arms and tasting her, sent his senses reeling- A door opened and then closed somewhere in the house and she started, breaking the kiss and staring out at the foyer.

He had to curl one of his hands into a fist to fight back the pa.s.sion she'd left hanging in his soul. After a second, he could speak. ”Roza?”

”I thought-” There was the sound of the door opening and closing again, followed by footsteps disappearing. She relaxed in his arms. ”It is just Mrs. Pitcairn leaving for her cottage.”

Bronwyn ran a finger over his lips, her eyes bright with pa.s.sion. ”You . . . you liked my singing?”

”It stirred me.” With a wink, he gently bit her finger. ”Too much.”

She chuckled, the sound warm against his chest. ”I am glad you left the dinner early, but this is a crazed idea, Alexsey.”

”I know. But I will not go until fate forces me, or you ask me.”

She lifted her lips to his ear and whispered, ”I don't want you to go. Not yet.” With that, she slid her lips to his jaw, kissing a path to his eager mouth.

Bozhy moj, she was so succulent and sweet. He held her to him, taking and giving, awash in waves of pa.s.sion unlike any he'd ever experienced.

Bronwyn reveled in the urgency of his kisses, of his hands. Ah, this. This is what I wanted.

His hands were splayed over her back. As he kissed her, he slid one of them down to her waist and along the curve of her hip. It was such an intimate touch, s.h.i.+very shards of longing danced through her. He slid his hand down her leg over her gown to her knee, then below; she could feel each of his fingers as they slid over her ankle and held it.

Through the haze caused by his kisses, she felt his hand slip up under her skirt to cup her calf. She gripped fistfuls of his coat, pressing against him.

His tongue brushed hers and she opened for him. He thrust his tongue against hers as his hand slid up over her knee, above her stocking. His palm lay flat against her naked thigh. She gasped eagerly against his mouth, opening her legs, moving restlessly, yearning for all she'd never known. Never wished for. Until now.

He held still, breaking the kiss, his breathing as ragged as hers. He rested his forehead against hers. ”Bronwyn, do you-”

She grasped his wrist and tugged his hand higher, sliding his hand up her thigh, his fingers dangerously close to her core.

Breathless at her own daring, she waited, her heart pounding furiously. All of her life, she'd read about pa.s.sion. Because of Alexsey, she was at this very instant living the moments that before now had only been pale, vague words upon a page.

She was really living now, tasting life, feeling the wind and the joy and the pa.s.sion. She closed her eyes, her body quivering on the brink. The freedom of this moment was almost unbearable. With hands that shook with desire, she guided his hand higher, until it rested there, tucked under her gown and chemise, warm against her womanhood.

As he felt her thighs part, Alexsey clenched his teeth against a cras.h.i.+ng wave of his own desire. She was so sweet, so pa.s.sionate, so his. She was everything he'd thought she was-wildly pa.s.sionate, vibrantly alive, sharing herself with him in a way that made his wild Romany blood sing with joy.

She moved restlessly against him, pressing herself into his hand. He ma.s.saged her gently, smoothing the slick folds with his palm. She moaned against his neck, writhing against his fingers, moist and swollen, ready for him.

Alexsey's breath caught, his c.o.c.k swelling in instant response. G.o.d, he wanted her with an insistence he'd never before felt. Wanted her under him, in his bed, and no one else's.

He stroked her slowly, trailing his fingers over her, stroking her lightly at first, then with increasing pressure. She gasped, grabbing his coat, his s.h.i.+rt, twisting in heated need, her sweet, hot breath trailing over his jaw and sending s.h.i.+vers through him. He trailed his fingers again, and again, feeling the center of her desire harden against his fingers, her arousal increasing with each movement, each touch- With a startled cry she arched against him, calling out his name as she clenched her thighs on his hand, wave after wave of pa.s.sion was.h.i.+ng through her. He crushed her to him, holding her close until her movements ceased, fighting his own desire. This moment was for her.

As her breathing stilled, he was shocked to see a single tear roll from the corner of her eye, a diamond drop against the dewy softness of her skin.

”Roza?” he asked softly.

She rested her forehead against his. ”That was-” She gulped back a sob. ”That was-”

He kissed her gently, his heart tight with an unnamed emotion.

Bronwyn's mind was too abuzz to think. Her eyes wet with happiness, and her body humming. She'd never felt more alive, more complete, more herself. She snuggled closer to him.

He gave a m.u.f.fled laugh that ended with a moan. ”Please do not move, my Roza. This embrace has stirred me, too, and I cannot continue without-”

She waited, looking at him.

He moaned, his voice husky with desire. ”I will explain it later. Ah, Roza, what you do to me. No one has ever tied me in such knots.”

”Never?”

”Never,” he declared, his breathing slowing slightly.

Deeply happy, wrapped in his arms, she felt . . . treasured. And yet, she couldn't keep a small thought from creeping into her coc.o.o.n. Where does this end? And how? Desperate to think about something else, she asked, ”Do you enjoy being a prince, Alexsey?”

He looked surprised. ”No one has ever asked me that. I suppose I do, as much as I can.”

”What do you mean?”

He shrugged. ”Do you enjoy being a daughter? A sister? We are what we are; we do what must be done. And if it is what we've known since we were children, then we do not imagine other ways or lives.”

She eyed him curiously. ”But you do imagine other things. I know it.”

He gave a reluctant smile. ”Sometimes I do. But never for long.”

She sighed, thinking of her own life, of how they all worked to reach their goals-Papa's patents and Sorcha's season. ”All we can do is the best we can do.”

”Now you sound like a Gypsy. My grandmother would be proud.”

”I wish I really were a Gypsy, and you really a huntsman.” It was such a lovely fantasy, better than any book. But it was just that-a fantasy. She sighed.

His eyes were half closed as he watched her, a pleased smile on his lips. Who had won that round? He'd certainly taken her much farther down the path of seduction; her body still trembled with aftershocks.

But she also saw a warmth in his gaze that was more . . . intimate. Then I made some inroads, too. ”Alexsey, do you think-”

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