Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) by Shirl Henke Page A

the breast through her thin cotton gown.
           The point of her nipple felt on fire as the hot raw pleasure of the intimate, forbidden caress robbed her of will, of thought. She had never allowed Benjamin such liberties even though he had tried to take them. In all her lonely twenty-four years, Miriam had never been touched like this by a man's mouth and hands!
           Then his words began to penetrate the haze of newly awakened sexual pleasure. So small. Need of fattening! Miriam knew she was tall and plain and not particularly curvaceous, but when he added the additional injury of calling her Louise to the insult of cupping her breast and finding it wanting, she finally reacted.
           With a burst of energizing anger she pressed her palms against his chest, ignoring the sensation of springy black hair that tufted between her fingers. She shoved with all her might and broke free, then shinnied from the bed to stand panting like a hare run to ground by a wolf! The whole front of her gown was soaked from contact with the wet cloths that had been laid across his torso. Angrily she smoothed her skirts down and stomped around the bed to refasten his arm.
           Once that task was completed, she went to the marble-topped table across the room and poured a drop of opiate into a goblet. “You will drink this and you will remain quiet the rest of the night, Spaniard, else I will smother you with a goose-down pillow!” she grated out as she stirred the opiate with a small amount of water. When he again began to speak, she pried his jaws open and dropped the mixture neatly to the back of his throat. He coughed until she massaged his throat. Then he swallowed and lay back, spent for the moment. So was his erection, she noted with a smirk of satisfaction.
           Dawn's pale golden fingers inched their way into the bedchamber, spreading warm light after Miriam opened the drapes. She stood surveying the dark blue waters of the bay in the distance. Isaac's home was situated high on a hill that gave it a view of the busy harbor far superior to that from her father's house, even though Judah Toulon had built his far closer to the docks from whence flowed his living.
           “Twill be a lovely day,” she murmured sleepily, rubbing her stiff aching back. She, like Benjamin the day before, had dozed in the high-backed walnut chair. It was damnably uncomfortable in spite of the velvet cushions. Visions of a hot scented bath and a soft bed floated before her eyes.
           The sound of the bedcovers rustling quickly ended her reverie. Miriam turned to find Rigo straining at the bonds holding him flat on the mattress. She crossed the floor to the bed and calmly reached down to feel his forehead, trying not to betray the pounding of her heart. “Your fever has finally broken. Good,” she said precisely, forcing herself to meet those piercing blue eyes. Why did they make her feel so different from Benjamin's? After all, they were identical.
           “Why am I trussed up like a pig for slaughter?” he asked angrily, his mouth parched and his head throbbing every bit as wickedly as his wounded side. He tugged at the linen roping, furious with his weakened condition before this coolly imperious woman.
           “You burned with a high fever for over twenty-four hours. What would you have had us do—keep five servants here to prevent your thrashing?” she asked reasonably as she began to slip the knots from his left wrist. When she moved to the foot of the bed and began to untie his ankle, he stiffened and grew very still. Please, God of Jacob, do not let him remember last night!
           “You tied me spread-eagle naked to this bed, woman?” he asked in a low, deadly voice that left her afraid to continue her task. But one arm and leg were already freed and he was still weak as a babe from his injuries.
           “Benjamin concurred such was the only way to keep you from