Lost Lady (James River Trilogy 2) - Page 8

Watching her, Travis was enchanted. She was such a mixture of child and woman—raging one moment, looking like an angry kitten, then changing to a girl of innocence and great charm. As he watched her smile lighting her turquoise eyes, he felt as if he’d been bewitched by her, as if a spell had been put on him so that he could think of nothing but her. He’d spent hours today in dress shops, feeling damnedly out of place but wanting to make her happy.

He sat down by her on the bed. “You like them? I didn’t know what kind of dresses or colors you liked, but the woman said these were the latest fashion.”

As she turned her smile toward him, he felt a flash of possessiveness tear through him such as he’d felt only for his land in Virginia. Before he could think of what he was doing, he leaned across the clothes and dragged her to him. Giving her no time to protest, he kissed her hungrily, trying to make up for every moment he’d thought of her during the day.

“My clothes,” Regan gasped. “You’ll crush them.”

With one movement, Travis swept all the clothes up and tossed them toward the chair. “All day I’ve thought about you,” he whispered. “What have you done to me?”

She tried to sound uncaring, in spite of the fact that Travis’s nearness caused her heart to race. “Nothing I want to do to you. Please release me.”

“Do you really want me to?” he asked throatily, running his lips along her throat.

Why, she thought, does this disgusting, vile man do these horrible things to me? But even as she was thinking this, she didn’t push him away—so badly did she want to be held in his arms, so much did she like the way he kissed her, the way his breath smelled, and how his hair caressed her face. The bigness of him made her feel small and safe, taken care of, protected.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Travis’s lips found her bare breasts. No more thoughts were possible as she groaned and ran her hands across his shoulders.

Slowly, Travis left her, and when she opened her eyes in bewilderment she saw him standing over her, removing his jacket. Unable to take her eyes off him, she watched as he leisurely removed his clothes.

The light of the setting sun came through the window and filled the room with a red-gold glow, transforming the ordinary room into a place of magic and jewels. Speechless, Regan could not take her eyes off the sight of Travis’s body as bit by large bit was exposed. She’d never seen a naked man before, and her curiosity was acute.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of a nude Travis. His body was heavily muscled from years of work his arms sculpted, his chest like an ancient Roman breast plate that she’d seen once in a book. Yet his waist was slim the stomach etched with rivulets of muscle. When his pants were removed, massive thighs were revealed, each muscle outstanding, separate.

“Oh my,” she gasped, her voice betraying her awe. Only when her eyes reached his manhood did she blink.

Travis laughed at her and stretched out beside her. “For all your protesting, I wager you’ll be a lusty wench when you’ve been taught properly.”

“No, don’t,” she said in one last feeble attempt to push him away, but Travis paid no attention to her. Deftly, he removed the last bit of her clothes and began to stroke her stomach, kneading it lightly, his fingertips playing with the sensitive area, his palm exciting her skin. All the while he kissed her, using his teeth on the curve of her ear, his tongue just grazing the warm, pulsing spot beneath her earlobe.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, her fingers tracing each long indentation where one muscle joined another. His hard body was so different from her soft one, so strong to her weakness. Moving under him, she slipped her arms down to caress his ribs, to feel the muscles in his back as they rippled under his hot, dark skin, and then to touch the sides of his tight buttocks. Wonder was mixed with the pleasure she found in touching him, and with each fondle her heart seemed to beat harder, her breath coming deeper and faster.

“Regan, sweet Regan,” Travis said in a voice she felt as much as heard in the place where their chests joined.

When he seemed to pull away from her, her fingers dug into his arms painfully. “Yes, my eager kitten, yes.”

Travis entered her slowly, easily, and although she would have thought it impossible, her heart rate increased. There was no pain, just something she wanted very, very much. As she arched against him clumsily, erratically, Travis held himself away from her. “Slow, kitten, slow,” he murmured, his hand on her hip, his thumb making love to her navel.

Although she had no idea what he meant, she had no choice but to obey him. As new as she was to lovemaking, she could still feel that he was holding back, taking the time to be a teacher instead of a blind participant. By slow, careful tutoring, he showed her how to enjoy herself, how to lead as well as to follow.

Regan thought her body would burst, that it was getting larger and larger, and that when it did explode she would perhaps die. Suddenly Travis increased his pace, and his excitement flowed through to her. She arched against him, and it was as if fireworks exploded inside her—brilliant, hot, dazzling fireworks.

Travis collapsed on top of her, his body limp and sweaty, and Regan felt drained and weak, but oh so very good, as if a great burden had been taken from her.

She wasn’t sure, but she believed she dozed for a while, and when she awoke, the intimate time with this man who was still virtually a stranger seemed like one of her dreams. As she lay there, one of Travis’s arms sprawled across her; she imagined what it would be like to see Farrell again. Of course, he’d have heard about her time with this American, and he would be ashamed of her, perhaps wouldn’t even speak to her. She imagined trying to explain, saying she’d resisted, but he’d know the truth. The American said that all her thoughts showed in her eyes. Would this new experience of hers show also? Would everyone in the world see her as a woman of no virtue?

Beside her, Travis stirred, lifted himself up on one elbow, and smiled down at her. “I was right,” he murmured. “With a little training….”

Regan pushed his hand away from a curl of her hair. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “You have forced me to do too many things against my will.”

Travis gave an exasperated little laugh. “Are we back to that again? I thought perhaps you’d see the truth this time.”

“The truth! I see the truth! I know you are holding me against my will, that you are a criminal of the lowest order.”

Sighing, Travis rolled from the bed and began to dress. “I’ve told you why I’m holding you.” He turned back to her quickly. “Do you have any idea what those men on the docks want from you? They want a violent version of what we just did.”

“And what’s the difference between them and you?”

“Even with your innocence you should realize that I make love to you, but they’d just throw your skirts over your head and do whatever they wanted—one after another.”

Tags: Jude Deveraux James River Trilogy Historical
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