feel and fulfill her own
passion.
Alex half-lifted her as he moved backward to the bed. Ginny ' s eyes were closed as she floated in the ether of pure
sensation. Her brain no longer held the reins of control, and her body seemed
as formless as mercury. She fell back on the bed, and he came with her, still
locked against her mouth as his hands now moved urgently over her breasts, lifting
the aching nipples with the heel of his palm. Ginny moaned, twisting her body,
covered only by the thin layer of cotton, beneath the contours and promontories
delineated by the leather and linen garb of the soldier above. Her own hands
seemed to know instinctively what they were to do and where they were to put
themselves, unbuttoning his shirt, curling in the wiry chest hair, slipping to
the muscled back and then down beneath the belt of his leathern britches.
Alex raised his head, looking down at her as if seeing her
for the first time — h er reddened lips, swollen under his
kisses, her limbs sprawled in wanton abandon, her erect nipples, dark splodges
against her nightgown. Passion and longing filled the gray eyes that seemed to
contain her soul, and the invitation was both an offer and an imperative. How
could he refuse either? His mouth returned to hers.
She yielded her body, then, to the hands that stroked even as
they held her fast. He moved his mouth from hers only long enough to cast aside
the wrapper, raising her body as he drew her nightgown over her head. As she
trembled in her nakedness, he whispered to her, soothing and stroking, and told
her how beautiful her body was, how strong and clean were her limbs, how
translucent her skin. She had never before shown herself naked to a man; Giles
had preferred darkness for coupling. But under the words of praise, she lay,
bold and proud, feeling herself as flawless as this lover was telling her she
was. When his hands parted her thighs in magical exploration, she heard herself
beg for gentleness and understanding, whisper that she had never known loving,
only invasion, and the green-brown eyes lifted for a minute to glow their
promise. She lay watching as he undressed, revealing the soldier's body, hard
of muscle and sinew, a lean, long fighting machine that bore a thin, white scar
slash across a thigh, another drawn fine over his rib cage. He came to her,
gentling her with hands and mouth as her body quivered in a confusion of panic,
anticipated pain, and the white-hot brand of desire. And the panic went, the
memory scars of pain healed beneath his touch, and there was only the fierce
wanting and an explosion of exquisite joy.
When he left her, it was far, far too soon, but the hard
edges of reality were stiffening the malleable wax of the dream. The lover was
soldier again, commander of a brigade, and he could not afford to be found in
the chamber of his prisoner. Before he left, he remembered to tell her of the
curfew, and even though he kissed her in apology, t h e words made clear again the truth of their relative
positio n s.
Ginny, in the light of the flickering candle as the st or m raged against her casement, attempted to quieten the
storm boiling within her, and to douse the light that for a magical time had
moved from a flicker to a full clear glow. Whatever it was that had happened,
be it love or lust, it could not be allowed to interfere in her future— a future that could not contain a Roundhead colonel.
She had known from the beginning of the madness that it could only be an
ephemeral moment, the last chance, the one and only chance she would ever have
in a lifetime of duty. She must leave the island tomorrow, she and Edmund and
Peter, fasten again the shackles of duty and loyalty, and keep the glorious
lunacy of this night in the secret embers of her soul.
She found she had no desire to sleep and sat at her window,
keeping watch as the storm died and the first faint glimmers of a sunless dawn
turned the night's darkness to a gray heaviness. A bugle call pierced
passion.
Alex half-lifted her as he moved backward to the bed. Ginny ' s eyes were closed as she floated in the ether of pure
sensation. Her brain no longer held the reins of control, and her body seemed
as formless as mercury. She fell back on the bed, and he came with her, still
locked against her mouth as his hands now moved urgently over her breasts, lifting
the aching nipples with the heel of his palm. Ginny moaned, twisting her body,
covered only by the thin layer of cotton, beneath the contours and promontories
delineated by the leather and linen garb of the soldier above. Her own hands
seemed to know instinctively what they were to do and where they were to put
themselves, unbuttoning his shirt, curling in the wiry chest hair, slipping to
the muscled back and then down beneath the belt of his leathern britches.
Alex raised his head, looking down at her as if seeing her
for the first time — h er reddened lips, swollen under his
kisses, her limbs sprawled in wanton abandon, her erect nipples, dark splodges
against her nightgown. Passion and longing filled the gray eyes that seemed to
contain her soul, and the invitation was both an offer and an imperative. How
could he refuse either? His mouth returned to hers.
She yielded her body, then, to the hands that stroked even as
they held her fast. He moved his mouth from hers only long enough to cast aside
the wrapper, raising her body as he drew her nightgown over her head. As she
trembled in her nakedness, he whispered to her, soothing and stroking, and told
her how beautiful her body was, how strong and clean were her limbs, how
translucent her skin. She had never before shown herself naked to a man; Giles
had preferred darkness for coupling. But under the words of praise, she lay,
bold and proud, feeling herself as flawless as this lover was telling her she
was. When his hands parted her thighs in magical exploration, she heard herself
beg for gentleness and understanding, whisper that she had never known loving,
only invasion, and the green-brown eyes lifted for a minute to glow their
promise. She lay watching as he undressed, revealing the soldier's body, hard
of muscle and sinew, a lean, long fighting machine that bore a thin, white scar
slash across a thigh, another drawn fine over his rib cage. He came to her,
gentling her with hands and mouth as her body quivered in a confusion of panic,
anticipated pain, and the white-hot brand of desire. And the panic went, the
memory scars of pain healed beneath his touch, and there was only the fierce
wanting and an explosion of exquisite joy.
When he left her, it was far, far too soon, but the hard
edges of reality were stiffening the malleable wax of the dream. The lover was
soldier again, commander of a brigade, and he could not afford to be found in
the chamber of his prisoner. Before he left, he remembered to tell her of the
curfew, and even though he kissed her in apology, t h e words made clear again the truth of their relative
positio n s.
Ginny, in the light of the flickering candle as the st or m raged against her casement, attempted to quieten the
storm boiling within her, and to douse the light that for a magical time had
moved from a flicker to a full clear glow. Whatever it was that had happened,
be it love or lust, it could not be allowed to interfere in her future— a future that could not contain a Roundhead colonel.
She had known from the beginning of the madness that it could only be an
ephemeral moment, the last chance, the one and only chance she would ever have
in a lifetime of duty. She must leave the island tomorrow, she and Edmund and
Peter, fasten again the shackles of duty and loyalty, and keep the glorious
lunacy of this night in the secret embers of her soul.
She found she had no desire to sleep and sat at her window,
keeping watch as the storm died and the first faint glimmers of a sunless dawn
turned the night's darkness to a gray heaviness. A bugle call pierced
Similar Books
