Tom’s name instead of his own.
“Very well, Connor.” Her voice was husky, deep for a woman’s and erotic as hell. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
He dragged in a breath. “No, I’d be better off down in the tap, but I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m trying hard not to take advantage of you, Belinda.”
Her chuckle was sultry. “How about if I take advantage of you? I’ve been widowed a long time. Women—we have physical needs too, you know. We’re only human.”
“I’m well aware of that.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Does admitting it make me an immoral woman?”
“Not by my standards. I’ve no quarrel with anyone who isn’t hurting anyone else.” He reminded himself that she was still liable to be in shock from her ordeal.
“Are you married, or promised to someone else?”
Connor shook his head, although she probably couldn’t see it. “No, I’m remarkably unattached.” And likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, although a germ of an idea had begun to form—one he wasn’t ready to look at directly, at least not yet.
“Then come to bed with me,” she coaxed. “After everything that happened, I need to feel alive, instead of imagining the flames. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“That’s a dangerous road you’d start us down.” He had just enough grip on his sanity to remember the hazards.
“Not so dangerous,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a widow, not a virgin, and I’m barren, so there’s no risk of a child.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes it’s the man’s problem.” It was ridiculous to get into the science of things at a moment like this, but Connor’s brain wasn’t working clearly enough to filter out irrelevant thoughts. Instead, it seemed to take refuge in the minutiae. Furthermore, he discovered he didn’t like to think of her having lain with—having loved—another man. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?
“I’m sure. My husband had a daughter with his first wife,” she replied. “I met him several years after they both died of a fever.”
“I’m sorry.” Somehow he thought that might be the right thing to say. He’d heard something about that from the squire, hadn’t he? Again, his brain wasn’t exactly in working order at the moment.
“Unless...” She paused. “I could understand if you were too tired—or if you simply didn’t want me. I am older than you, and not as pretty or lighthearted as I might once have been.”
“Oh, good lord, woman, a few years is nothing. And you’re stunning.” Had she really missed his attraction to her? “I want you so much my eyes are crossing.”
“Then come to bed.”
He wasn’t an idiot. Somewhere in the back of his brain, that plan firmed and shifted, but Connor still didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he shucked his smalls and climbed onto the bed.
A surprise greeted him. Belinda was naked too.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him farther under the covers. Their bodies fit together as if they’d been designed for each other. She was small but strong and curvaceous, not some fragile waif he’d have to worry about breaking in half. Connor was a big man, and he’d just discovered that a short, sturdy woman suited him fine.
Refusing to let her take complete control, he rolled her to her back as he kissed her, pinning her hands to the bed with his. Their lips tangled in long, drugging kisses, their tongues dueling for dominance as they explored each other’s mouths.
Finally, Connor broke the kiss, smiling as he kissed his way down to her breasts. He sent a spell winging to the candle beside the bed, sparking it to life. Belinda was beautiful with clothes on, and he wanted rather desperately to see her without them.
The dim and flickering light didn’t reveal much but skin darker than the typical British notion of beauty, yet smooth and lovely. Her breasts were bountiful and flushed, her generous nipples dark and pearled. He
“Very well, Connor.” Her voice was husky, deep for a woman’s and erotic as hell. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
He dragged in a breath. “No, I’d be better off down in the tap, but I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m trying hard not to take advantage of you, Belinda.”
Her chuckle was sultry. “How about if I take advantage of you? I’ve been widowed a long time. Women—we have physical needs too, you know. We’re only human.”
“I’m well aware of that.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Does admitting it make me an immoral woman?”
“Not by my standards. I’ve no quarrel with anyone who isn’t hurting anyone else.” He reminded himself that she was still liable to be in shock from her ordeal.
“Are you married, or promised to someone else?”
Connor shook his head, although she probably couldn’t see it. “No, I’m remarkably unattached.” And likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, although a germ of an idea had begun to form—one he wasn’t ready to look at directly, at least not yet.
“Then come to bed with me,” she coaxed. “After everything that happened, I need to feel alive, instead of imagining the flames. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“That’s a dangerous road you’d start us down.” He had just enough grip on his sanity to remember the hazards.
“Not so dangerous,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a widow, not a virgin, and I’m barren, so there’s no risk of a child.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes it’s the man’s problem.” It was ridiculous to get into the science of things at a moment like this, but Connor’s brain wasn’t working clearly enough to filter out irrelevant thoughts. Instead, it seemed to take refuge in the minutiae. Furthermore, he discovered he didn’t like to think of her having lain with—having loved—another man. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?
“I’m sure. My husband had a daughter with his first wife,” she replied. “I met him several years after they both died of a fever.”
“I’m sorry.” Somehow he thought that might be the right thing to say. He’d heard something about that from the squire, hadn’t he? Again, his brain wasn’t exactly in working order at the moment.
“Unless...” She paused. “I could understand if you were too tired—or if you simply didn’t want me. I am older than you, and not as pretty or lighthearted as I might once have been.”
“Oh, good lord, woman, a few years is nothing. And you’re stunning.” Had she really missed his attraction to her? “I want you so much my eyes are crossing.”
“Then come to bed.”
He wasn’t an idiot. Somewhere in the back of his brain, that plan firmed and shifted, but Connor still didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he shucked his smalls and climbed onto the bed.
A surprise greeted him. Belinda was naked too.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him farther under the covers. Their bodies fit together as if they’d been designed for each other. She was small but strong and curvaceous, not some fragile waif he’d have to worry about breaking in half. Connor was a big man, and he’d just discovered that a short, sturdy woman suited him fine.
Refusing to let her take complete control, he rolled her to her back as he kissed her, pinning her hands to the bed with his. Their lips tangled in long, drugging kisses, their tongues dueling for dominance as they explored each other’s mouths.
Finally, Connor broke the kiss, smiling as he kissed his way down to her breasts. He sent a spell winging to the candle beside the bed, sparking it to life. Belinda was beautiful with clothes on, and he wanted rather desperately to see her without them.
The dim and flickering light didn’t reveal much but skin darker than the typical British notion of beauty, yet smooth and lovely. Her breasts were bountiful and flushed, her generous nipples dark and pearled. He
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