Letters at Christmas by Amber Lin Page B

every velvet caress of her tongue, in the sinuous movements of her body. She was graceful, fluid, like a sunlit stream running through his fingers. Lowering her onto the bed, he slid beneath her, closing his eyes against the onslaught of sensation. Small hands unbuttoned his trousers amid a rustling of skirt and petticoats. When she aligned the head of his cock to her opening, he had to open his eyes. God, the sight of her above him —hazel eyes glazed in lust, the tops of her breasts flushed with arousal. A wet, hot glove enclosed him, wrenching a groan from him.
    Her smile was filled with feminine power. “You’ve needed this, haven’t you?”
    “You,” he said hoarsely. “I need you.”
    She bent down to his ear, sliding their bodies together in delicious friction. “I’m yours.”
    He felt her words like a promise, a clench in his heart and an urgent pulse low in his body. He thrust up urgently with his hands on her hips, holding her body down on his. But she could take it. His woman, his wife. The strongest person he’d ever met. She could take anything he put to her. And gave back so much more.
    When he came, sharp pleasure arced through his body. Lights burst across his vision, but even blinded and bowed, he saw her clearly. Full lips parted, skin flushed. Her dusky green eyes were sultry with passion and devotion. His chest swelled with answering desire. Loving her for the rest of his life would be his greatest privilege.
    …
    A fire crackled in the hearth, lighting Geoffrey’s study in a warm glow. Hale remembered flat gray walls, but cream wallpaper now featured slim cranes nestled among bamboo leaves. Catherine’s touch, he suspected. Sidony’s taste was more colorful, and he knew Geoffrey would scarcely notice the wall coverings, much less dictate them.
    A light flurry of snow had turned the window white. Hale tapped idly on the soft, burnished leather of his chair. Every aspect of the study spoke to comfort, but his body was tense and sweating as though a storm was brewing. He’d learned to recognize the prescient crackle in the air, and he felt it now too.
    He had literally spent three years preparing for this meeting. He could recite his accounts and investments by memory. He could detail his plans for how to keep Sidony happy—well, some of them.
    And yet, it might not be enough. He was new money. A bastard. And, at least in a few ports, he might even be termed a pirate. Soldiers displaced from the war found a new battlefield—the sea. Even an official trading ship had to fight for its keep.
    Frankly, Sidony could do better than a man such as him. Even asking Geoffrey might put a strain on their friendship. And if Hale must spirit her off to Gretna Green? The strain would snap. They might have grown apart over the years, but Hale had no desire to become Geoffrey’s enemy or to cause a rift in their small family.
    The black cat strolled into the room and twined around Hale’s legs. Swallowing hard, he stroked the silky fur. So, this was Bailey’s offspring. He’d been shocked when Sidony told him, although he should have guessed sooner. He had narrowed his vision to only her—to only her response. After three years of suppressing all emotion and hope, he’d been reduced to a single plea. Will you marry me? Yes, yes, please God yes .
    Geoffrey strolled into the room a few moments later. “Sorry for the delay. Catherine had a question. She’s planning a big wedding. But—” He shrugged. “Her first one was small.” He seated himself behind his desk and began fiddling with a stack of papers, eyes downcast.
    Hale knew from experience he would have to wait until Geoffrey’s attention wandered back to him. “Geoffrey,” he prompted.
    “Yes, I—” His friend continued to riffle through the papers, eyes too blank to be reading.
    This was not an auspicious beginning. “I’m in love with your sister.”
    Geoffrey froze. At least he’d heard. He glanced up, his eyes clearing. “I