Elizabeth Meyette - [Love's 01] by Love's Destiny

Emily was struck with the clean, masculine atmosphere of his quarters. It smelled of polished wood, fine leather and a faint scent of brandy. Jonathon picked up a half-full glass of that drink and saluted her.
    “Doctor’s orders. It deadens the pain,” he indicated his hand. “Will you join me, Miss Wentworth?” he grinned.
    “If you intend to humiliate me and insult me, sir, I shall leave immediately.” She started toward the door.
    Jonathon caught her arm and turned her toward him. Their closeness was disconcerting, and Emily felt flushed as her heart hammered insistently in her chest. He smelled of brandy, and she guessed he had consumed quite a bit that afternoon. His hand encircled her upper arm and was close to brushing against her breast. She could feel his eyes burrowing into her and kept her gaze straight ahead, which had her looking at the thick mat of hair revealed by his half–open shirt.
    “Forgive me, Em; it is not my intention to humiliate or insult you. But you persist in your coolness toward me and challenge me at every turn. I do not understand why you dislike me so. Have I given you just cause? Enlighten me so that I can make amends. Have I been cruel or untoward? Tell me how I can attain your good graces. Have I taken liberties and become an object of repulsion to you? Have I not, and earned your scorn? Perhaps if I showed more daring in our relationship I could earn your respect as a man.”
    Jonathon slid one arm around her waist, the other hand lifted her chin and, as blue eyes looked up into brown, he gently lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. Emily’s mind reeled and her body burned with newly awakened desire.
    Intending only an innocent kiss, Jonathon was surprised at the impact made by those soft, full lips against his. Combined with the headiness of the brandy he had been drinking, his innocent kiss became intense as his lips moved over hers, searching their sweetness.
    Emily became aware of his arms encircling her, pressing her close. She responded instinctively, lost in the spell of his tenderness. His lips parted and she felt his tongue move to open her mouth. Regaining her senses, Emily pulled away and staggered back. To deny she had enjoyed that kiss would have been a lie. He knew that too. She looked up at him in surprise and dismay, her breasts heaving as she gasped for air.
    “Emily — ” Jonathon began, but she swirled and fled from the room.
    Reaching her quarters, Emily slammed the door and stood with her back pressed against it, lest he try to follow. Her body betrayed her with its sensual, pleasurable glow. She felt her hot, flushed cheeks with trembling hands. Her mind tumbled, confused, and she could feel the pressure of his arms around her like a brand. Her lips ached for more of his kiss, and she grew angry at their betrayal. She denied to herself that she was willing in his arms, and suddenly realized in horror that her arms had reached up along his shoulders in welcome.
    Throwing herself on the bunk, Emily sobbed into her pillow. Her world was turning upside down. She had lost her parents, left her homeland, almost lost her brother, and now this colonial was launching an attack on her senses. And physically, she seemed more than willing to comply. Was she some sort of wanton woman? She should have married Michael Dennings and been assured a respectable life in London. But, as many times as Michael had stolen kisses, they had never set her on fire the way Jonathon’s had. She warmed even now as she remembered it. Exhausted, Emily drifted off to sleep. Somewhere in that hazy dreamworld, strong arms held her close and soft lips urged a welcoming response. Anyone peeking in on the sleeping girl would have noticed a delicate smile on her lips.
    • • •
    Morning dawned sunlit and warm, belying the previous day’s storm. A gentle tapping on her door brought Emily to full consciousness. Rising, she realized she was still in the rumpled clothes she had worn