sinew, silky tip and satin shaft. She loved the taste and feel of him, loved the groans she elicited as she licked and suckled, laved and stroked. After a few moments, he dropped the bedclothes and clutched her shoulders, thrusting with her as she took him to completion.
As he fell back on to the bed, limp, she returned the basin and refreshed the wine glass. She was sitting beside him, sipping from it, marvelling at the power and beauty of sensual pleasure, when he stirred and opened those incredible blue eyes.
And smiled at her.
Her foolish heart expanded and she smiled back, a smile of pure joy and contentment. Oh, how easily she could become accustomed to this loving—and this man!
‘That was beyond words glorious,’ he told her, sitting up to accept the wine glass and take a long sip. ‘But it wasn’t right.’
‘No?’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You didn’t seem to complain at the time.’
‘Ah, but that’s because I knew I would insist on having my turn.’
Her simmering senses sparked as the meaning of those words penetrated. Before she could respond, though, he continued. ‘I believe a little more undressing is called for, once we finish this wine.’
‘If you wish.’
He gave her a long, slow, heated scrutiny. Her skin prickled as his gaze passed over it, as if she could literally feel his touch as his eyes inspected her. ‘Oh, I wish—to touch everything.’
They shared the glass, then Hadley returned it to the table and came back to the bed. She looked up at him, little eddies of excitement swirling in her stomach, and all her nerves once again primed for his touch.
‘First, this.’ he said, and began raking the pins from her hair, until the heavy mass fell to her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you only knew how often I dreamed of doing this,’ he murmured as he continued to comb his fingers through her hair until he’d winnowed out all the pins. Then he arranged the waves over her shoulders, down her back, and around her breasts. Hands on her shoulders, he took a step back, once again studying her.
‘Glorious,’ he pronounced, and kissed her.
She murmured in protest when he broke the kiss, and he chuckled. ‘Do not fret, my sweet. There will be more of that, soon enough.’ Urging her to stand, he unlaced her underskirt, pulled it down, and helped her step out of it. He stood up and drew her close, kissing her again, light and gentle, then deeper and penetrating. While he drugged her with his mouth, he slowly raised the hem of her shift, until he could reach her garters. After unhooking her stocking, he urged her to sit.
He knelt before her, slowly rolling down the stocking, and kissing the skin of her leg as he bared it: inner thigh, knee and the soft skin behind it, along the shin, around the fullness of calf, across the smooth arch of the foot, until he pulled it free from her foot and suckled each toe in turn.
Glad she was seated, for she would have been too dizzy to stand, she braced herself on the bed as he started on the remaining garter and leg. Once he had her bare-legged, he stood her up, unlaced and tossed away her stays, then pulled the shift over her head.
She stood before him completely naked now, but so sensitised by his touch that she felt no embarrassment. Only an exuberant confidence, from seeing the need blazing in his gaze, that he found her desirable, and anticipation for what he would do next.
In answer, he eased her on to the bed and against the pillows. ‘Close your eyes, my sweet, and just feel,’ he murmured.
And so she did. He began at her temples, kissing and stroking lightly, over her cheeks and lips, her ears and chin. He fisted his hands in her hair, then brushed the silky strands against her shoulders, her arms before he nibbled and kissed them. Slowly he progressed lower, teasing with the satin brush of her hair, tantalising with the soft pressure of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue.
She was breathing hard again, feeling the climax building, by the time he reached her waist, her hipbones, the round of belly. But to her dismay, he bypassed her aching centre, instead moving down her legs, her knees, her ankles and toes.
She pulled at his hands, trying to urge him higher, but he would not be hurried. Gently detaching himself, he returned to his slow transit up and around her legs, setting off delicious vibrations in nerves she didn’t know she possessed.
And then, finally, his mouth moved to the tender skin of her inner thighs. At his urging, she let her legs fall open, giving him full access to the most intimate part of her. When she thought she could stand the wait no longer, he at last moved his mouth to her.
He parted the nether lips and licked delicately at the little bud within. Frantic, she twisted her head from side to side, lifting her hips to bring him closer. Then, with tongue and fingers, he traced the path into her slick passage.
So near to the precipice was she that only a few strokes would have been enough to send her spinning into the free fall of climax. But this time, she wanted them to reach that pinnacle together. Rolling away from him, she sat up, then pulled him to lie down beside her, his head towards the bottom of the bed, then lay back down with her own head on the pillow.
Understanding her intent, he eagerly returned to tasting her, while she slid her hand under the waistband of his breeches to clasp the erection now within her reach. Stroking him while he laved her, the two of them mingled their cries as they reached the summit together.
For a long, sweet time, they lay panting, spent. Recovering more quickly than Maggie, Giles crawled up to lay on the pillow, then repositioned her with her head resting on his shoulder, her arm across his bare chest, and her leg wrapped around his. After tossing the rumpled blanket over her nakedness, he kissed the tip of her nose and promptly fell asleep.
Lying in his arms watching him, content, replete, Maggie realised she was feeling…happy. Something she hadn’t experienced in so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.
That realisation should have terrified her, and maybe it would, later. But for this glorious moment, in the wondrous present, she would simply enjoy it as a gift.
All too soon, Giles stirred. She held her breath as his sleepy eyes opened—would he shatter this magic by tossing back the covers, throwing on his clothes and bidding her a cheery goodbye as he hustled out to his meetings?
She saw that moment recognition of time, place—and his companion—register in those bright blue eyes. Which then widened, as a smile warmed a face alight with what she didn’t dare call tenderness.
‘My sweet lady,’ he murmured. ‘My very dear Lady Margaret.’
Despite her efforts to restrain it, her own heart swelled with an answering emotion. ‘After this morning, I think it should be “Maggie”, don’t you?’
‘My very dear Maggie,’ he repeated, and pulled her head down for a kiss—gentle, caressing almost—cherishing. As he released her, he said, ‘I wish we’d awakened in the Outer Hebrides.’
Puzzled, she angled her head at him. ‘You have a fondness for cold Scottish islands?’
He chuckled. ‘No, my love! But if we were in the Hebrides, I could resume the delightful business that has occupied us this morning. Since we are unfortunately in London, I suppose I must finally bow to
