The Heir - Catherine Coulter [69]
Dr. Branyon instantly drew back. There was no tenderness in his eyes or in his voice. “I’m not the damned earl,” he said. “Look at me, Ann. I’m not that man who hurt you and humiliated you.” She was shaking. He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “I would never hurt you. I would never humiliate you. I would never make you feel like less than nothing. You know that. You know me. You know I would protect you with my life.”
“I know that you would. It won’t happen again.”
“It might and it doesn’t matter. You will be free of him soon. Do you believe me?”
She did. “I hated him so very much, hated him as much as Arabella worshiped him.”
He wanted to know what that bastard had done to her, yet he knew that it wasn’t fair to push her. No, if she wanted to tell him, eventually she would. He had to remember that the bastard was dead and he wasn’t. Her memories would fade and disappear. He would have her with him forever. He asked quietly, “Do you trust me, Ann?”
She raised her fingers to touch his mouth. “I trust you more than I feared him,” she said simply.
He gathered her into his arms and pulled her gently to him. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and felt her snuggle close against him, her full breasts against his chest, her belly and thighs pressing against his. She slid her arms about his neck and buried her face against his neck. Just having him close to her, feeling his warm breath on her back, made her replete with happiness.
He hoped she couldn’t feel his sex, hard and shoving against her belly. For one of the few times in his life he was thankful for the many layers of clothing women wore. He wanted to caress her hips, kiss every delightful curve of hers, but he forced his hands to remain on her back.
He wanted to take off her clothes, stroke her, kiss her, and come inside her. He wanted her to hold him against her. He wanted her to find her woman’s pleasure. But it was too soon, despite her teasing, her bravado. He forced himself to calm, but it was difficult. They lay in each other’s arms until the sun began its rapid downward descent.
He awoke to light soft kisses against his chin, his cheek, his nose. He’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t believe it. “Damn,” he said as he turned her face up with his thumb and kissed her mouth. “How long have you been taking advantage of me?” he said into her mouth. She jumped, then grinned. Then, quite suddenly, she was on top of him, her hands around his face, her lips parted, kissing him with a good deal of enthusiasm. Her hair had come free of its rolls and was a thick curtain on both sides of his face. The smell of her made him wild. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he groaned, and it was deep and hoarse.
She wasn’t frightened. If anything she was more enthusiastic. He wanted to come inside her this very instant, but he was wise enough to let her keep control. He had to be patient; he had to keep on a steady course. He was a physician, for God’s sake, not some randy, ignorant boy. He groaned instead, his hips lifting.
“Ann, it’s going to be a close thing for me. Eighteen years is a very long time to wait to have you.”
She raised her head and looked down into his eyes. “It’s a ridiculously long time,” she said. “It’s too long a time. If you wait for another minute, then I will have to rhapsodize about the lily pads again.”
She was laughing even as she jumped to her feet and began unfastening the buttons on her gown. He stared at her. There was no hesitation in her, no fear, only her beautiful face flushed with excitement, with anticipation. They were both laughing by the time they were on his coat again, naked, in each other’s arms. And when he finally came to her, she welcomed him with a soft moan. And when she