of his shirt beneath her questing fingers, sliding under the linen to touch his skin. She heard him groan against her mouth.
“Merryn. Wait …” Garrick sounded dazed. He tried to pull back. “We should not,” he said. “You’ll feel differently when—”
Merryn cut off his words with another kiss. She did not want to wait, did not want to think. Her heart beat a mad helter-skelter. Her body seemed to be burning up. She kissed him again with renewed passion and when she felt the tension ease from him and his grip tighten on her, she knew she had won and the triumph soared even higher in her blood. She felt him shift so that he was over her and suddenly she felt very small and very feminine against such hard strength and masculinity. It was a new and devastating sensation for her but it was banished as soon as it came by other, even more powerful reactions. She felt the nip of his teeth on her neck and the press of his lips against the pulse at the hollow of her throat and she squirmed beneath him. Her gown was already in tatters; it was the work of seconds for Garrick to rip it off. His mouth closed over the tip of one of her breasts and Merryn’s mind spun into a new, untried world. Desire twisted deep within her and she cried out.
Garrick’s hands moved over her, stripping away her clothes, exposing her to his gaze and his touch. She felt strange, voluptuous, a creature of feeling and sensation where before she had been driven only by thought and reason. The fierce demand of her senses was like nothing she had known before. It was insatiable, a desperate need. She arched to each caress, helpless beneath the long, slow strokes of his hands. His mouth at her breast was exquisite torment, impelling her deeper into a dark spiral that wound her body as tight as a drum.
She felt him shift above her, spreading her thighs. The cool air touched her there; she moaned. There was an ache deep inside her that maddened her now, demanding release, and she grabbed his hips and pulled him down to her. She felt the slide of his skin against hers and knew he was naked and exultation burst inside her like the sun. A moment, and then he thrust hard, taking her with such consuming wildness that Merryn cried out in shock and fierce delight. She felt her body yield, surrendering to his, and felt the heat uncurl and spread through her, setting her trembling uncontrollably. He drove into her again, and again, his mouth ravaging hers, the rhythm of his possession a primitive beat in her blood. Her skin felt slick and hot, the muscles of her stomach jumping. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her body to meet the thrust of his and felt herself tangle in a swirl of sensation as the world shattered. Then she was falling and falling into star-spangled darkness. She heard Garrick groan her name, felt her body clasp his as he emptied himself into her, and clung to him desperately as the only safe thing in a tumultuous new world.
She was not sure how long she lay there, her mind utterly blank for once, all thoughts and reason fled, aware of nothing but shock and pure, wicked exhilaration. She had never felt like this before, never dreamed of feeling like this. For once she let her mind lie quiescent and simply allowed herself to experience sensation. Her body felt lush and ripe and replete. She had had no notion it could give her so much pleasure. She felt stunned to discover it.
She was dimly aware of Garrick lifting her, wrapping something about her, and then she sank deeply into the softest, deepest mattress she had ever known. She was so drained by bliss that she drifted between waking and sleeping. Somewhere at the back of her mind reality stirred, but she pushed any thoughts away before they could touch her with their cold truth.
After a while she opened her eyes and looked about her. The room was lit by the strengthening glow of the dawn now. In its light she could see Garrick stretched out beside her and her throat dried to look at him. He was masculine perfection, like the statues she had studied in the London museums. But Garrick was real, hard muscle and smooth tawny skin, his auburn hair tumbling across his brow, magnificent in his nakedness.
He leaned over and pressed soft kisses against her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat. His breath stirred her hair. She could smell the scent of his skin mingled with salt sweat and dust, and her head spun.
“It should not have been like that …” His voice was soft. “I am sorry.”
Dimly she understood what he meant. It had been wild and uncontrolled, no gentle introduction for a virgin to the art of love. Yet she had not wanted that. She had wanted him. She had wanted to celebrate their escape, the triumph of life over death. But now … The thoughts hovering in the shadows at the edge of her mind drew a little closer. She felt cold. Regrets, memories … She could not face them yet.
“Garrick—”
She reached for him, wanting to ward off the shade and drive away thought, if only for a little longer. She saw him hesitate. Then he brushed his lips against hers. Her heart fluttered. The shadows fled.
This time the kiss was slower, gentler. His mouth explored hers, teasing her, his tongue dancing with hers. Merryn quivered as an echo of their previous passion shook her. The heat and pleasure shimmered through her, softer this time, more persuasive, coiling through her body with seductive warmth. She reached for Garrick again but he shook his head, pushing her back against the bed, sliding his hands down her body in a caress that made her skin shiver and ache with need.
“Not now, not yet …” His head dipped to her breast and once again her mind swirled away to that hot dark place where pleasure drove her on. She felt his fingers against the soft skin of her inner thigh, parting her, touching her intimately. The heat built inside her as he stroked; Merryn dug her fingers into the bed and shifted against the covers, desperate to ease the torment.
Garrick slid something beneath her hips, raising her up. The rough silkiness of velvet abraded her. Tumbled on the bed, abandoned and unrestrained, she felt the brush of his cheek against her thigh, then the tip of his tongue at her core, trailing shattering pleasure. She arched helplessly, moaning with shock and delight. This was beyond any ecstasy she had experienced before. She felt as though her body was melting as white-hot rapture consumed her.
This time he entered her slowly while her body was still clenching with intense bliss and she gasped to feel him take her. It seemed impossible. She was tight; her climax still rippled through her belly in endless waves. She writhed beneath him and he held her hips down against the velvet and slid inside her gently, inexorably. Merryn had thought that her body could not take any further sensation but Garrick raised himself above her, pushing the tangled hair away from her flushed face, kissing her with the same deep intimacy with which he took her body.
“Open your eyes,” he said softly, and her lashes fluttered open so that she met the dark molten heat in his. His body plundered hers with slow, relentless strokes, his eyes held hers. She could not break the connection between them, did not want to, captured and held by the fierce passion beneath his gentleness. With aching tenderness he drove her to the edge again and she hung there for endless moments, her body strung out with acute desire, her mind reeling with the onslaught of unimaginable pleasure. And then she fell again, shocked beyond measure, powerless, her mind and body dazzled.
Delicious exhaustion washed through her. She could not move other than to curl against him and succumb utterly to sleep, Garrick’s arms about her, his body curved protectively about hers.
Merryn did not know how long she slept for but when she awoke it was to hear a hammering at the door and the sound of voices in the corridor outside and then the room was full of people. There was Joanna and Alex and Tess and a whole host of others whom she did not recognize but who were all staring at her, some in shock, some in horror, all in appalled surprise. Merryn blinked as she opened her eyes fully and the last shreds of the dream fled. Now she could not escape the thoughts that crowded back into her mind.
The room she was lying in was, self-evidently, a bordello. Either that or the owner of the house had very exotic tastes. The bed was covered in lush pink silk and draped with
