pulse was racing. She still felt exultant, powerful, after successfully repelling the attack and saving her precious cargo. She remembered something Bernard used to say about his friends, when they were hunting—’there was no stopping them when their blood is up.’ That was how she felt now, unable to stop. And she did not care.
‘I would not have you be one.’
The low words were no more than a whisper against Adam’s skin. She put her hand to his cheek and he responded to the pressure of her fingers to close the small distance between them. He slid his mouth across hers and as his kiss deepened she responded. His tongue touched her lips and they parted eagerly. She pushed the blanket from his shoulders and ran her hands over his bare back. Gently he eased her down to the ground, the blood pounding through him as her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him down with her. The buttons of her mannish jacket gave way easily to his fingers and soon he had pulled away the neck cloth and opened her shirt. When he placed his mouth on her throat it was every bit as soft and smooth as he had imagined. She trembled beneath him, sending his passion soaring out of control. His hand moved over the swell of her breast and she moaned softly, pushing against his fingers. She struggled to sit up and he released her immediately, trying to quell his disappointment, but she was not repulsing him. She dragged off her linen shirt and twisted round.
‘Unlace me.’
His fingers trembled on the laces. He bent to kiss her bare shoulder and her head fell back. She sighed, eyes closed, dark lashes fanned against her golden cheek. Hastily he dragged the laces free and the restricting corset fell away. He pulled her against him, cupping her breasts. They tensed beneath the thin cotton of her chemise. The next moment she was throwing off this last hindrance and turning back to face him.
A sudden stillness enveloped the little clearing, only the faint crackling of the fire disturbed the silence. Amber knelt before him, head bowed and that glorious hair cascading down over her shoulders. In the golden firelight she took his breath away. Gently, slowly, he reached out and pushed the hair back, his fingers caressing her neck, cupping her face, pulling her closer. Their kiss began tenderly enough, but he felt its latent power, like the rolling breakers he had seen on so many beautiful, dangerous shores, from Cornwall to Corunna. An inexorable force that carried all before it.
Amber gave him back kiss for kiss, dragging him down again onto their makeshift bed, her hands scrabbling to unfasten and remove his breeches. His skin was chill and slightly damp from the buckskin and she pressed herself against him. His reaction to her warm, shapely body was immediate, as was his gasp when her fingers closed about his erection. He had to force himself to ignore the havoc she was creating within him. The blood was pounding in his ears; he fought down the urge to satisfy his own need and concentrated on pleasuring her. He placed his mouth over one taut breast, his tongue circling, teasing, while she groaned beneath him. His hand swept over her hip, caressed the hinge of her thigh and moved on to where she was opening for him, inviting his touch. She writhed beneath his fingers. She was nearing the crest of her passion. He shifted his body and eased himself into her, stroking, caressing, containing his own excitement while she began to move wildly against him, her nails digging into his back.
‘Adam!’
The anguished cry broke from her. She quivered; he could feel her tensing around him, possessing him. There was nothing he wanted more than to remain inside her and complete their union, but that would be reckless, irresponsible. It took all his iron will to withdraw and make his own shattering ending against the soft skin of her belly.
A languid peace settled over them and they lay, sated and content, until the dying fire could no longer keep them warm. Amber wiped a napkin across her stomach, then tossed it aside and pulled the frieze blanket over them.
‘My dear—’
‘Shh.’ She pulled him into her arms. ‘Enough. Sleep now.’
Chapter Two
Amber drifted back to wakefulness, amazingly content and at peace, like a feather drifting gently back to earth after a great storm. It was almost dawn, a grey twilight hung over the clearing. She was lying in a man’s arms, their naked limbs fitting snugly together in the most natural way and she felt relaxed. More than that, she felt cherished. Loved. She had been an innocent maid when she had married Bernard, and he had been a selfish lover, their coupling had left her feeling lost and dissatisfied. At the time she had not known why but now, lying here with Adam, she understood.
Adam. She moved slightly, tentatively touching the lean body stretched beside her. They had not met since they were children, yet she had felt an immediate affinity with him. Perhaps it was because he had come to her rescue once again. She smiled in the darkness. It was more likely his magnificent physique. She recalled how she had reacted to the sight of his naked chest, when he had removed his wet shirt, the firelight glinting on his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest. Just the thought of it sent shafts of aching lust running through her again.
Reluctantly she moved away from his warmth and curled herself into a ball. How wanton he would think her. How shocked she was that she had thrown herself at him! Amber had no idea what had come over her. Could she blame it on the wine, perhaps, or on their situation, surrounded by the gently billowing fabrics, as if they were in some exotic pavilion? No, nothing could excuse her behaviour. She had thrown caution to the winds and given herself to Adam. Something within had taken over, compelled her to kiss him, and after that, she was lost.
Amber sat up, fear chilling her heart. She had never been so completely out of control before. Adam had withdrawn early, so there could be no baby, no lasting evidence of her weakness, but what if it happened again? She must make sure it did not, or she would risk losing everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
She had been a widow for more than seven years, in charge of her own life, and this sudden vulnerability was terrifying. She had known nothing like it before. Amber had been fifteen when her mother died and she had stepped into her shoes, taking over the accounts and running the shop. It had not been difficult; she loved the business and as a child she had spent all her spare time in the warehouse, learning about the different fabrics, talking to the customers and accompanying her father on his business trips. She had soon realised that while her father was an excellent salesman, it was her mother who knew which fabrics to buy and how much to spend to keep the finances in order.
Amber had inherited her mother’s natural flair for business and she had hoped that her father would listen to her advice, that with a little economy they could make the savings and investments needed to expand. Instead, without his wife’s moderating influence, he had spent his money foolishly and within the year it was clear that the business would need substantial investment if it was to continue. Bernard Hall had been a gentleman by birth and knew nothing about trade, but he had had a little money which he was willing to invest. Amber knew now that she had been the bargaining tool her father had used to entice Bernard into partnership. She had resisted his advances for three years, but at eighteen she had given in to the pressure from Bernard and her father and become Mrs Hall.
It had not been a happy time. They had needed Bernard’s added investment to continue, but his strong, bullying personality had dominated her father and Amber had been obliged to watch the business she loved sinking further into decline. She had thought that by marrying Bernard she might have more influence, instead she had merely become his chattel, to be used or ignored, and any remonstrance had been met with a swift and violent rebuttal. He had constantly belittled her; she had been reduced to the role of a servant. Amber could admit now her relief when Bernard had died less than two years after their marriage. By then her father was a broken man and she had taken up the reins of the business, dragged it back from the brink of disaster and with steady perseverance she had built it up.
It
