He kissed her again, his mouth hot on hers. And while he distracted her in this way, his hand stole down the soft skin of her stomach to the patch of curls that shielded her womanhood. She stiffened for just a moment, then relaxed under his gentle caress. At first, he made no move to touch her more deeply, just tickled her as he moved his mouth along the planes of her face.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

She nodded.

His other hand moved to her breast, squeezing its fullness before grazing the aroused nipple with his palm. "Do you like that?" he whispered, his voice growing husky.

She nodded again, this time with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Do you want me to do it again?"

And while she nodded for the third time, he moved one finger into the hot folds of her womanhood and began to stroke.

Ellie gasped, then forgot how to breathe. Then when she finally remembered where her lungs were, she let out a loud, "Oh!" that caused Charles to chuckle and slide his finger in deeper, touching her in the most intimate of ways.

"Oh, Lord, Ellie," he groaned. "You want me."

She clutched desperately at his shoulders. "You only just noticed?"

His chuckle came from deep in his throat. His fingers continued their sensual torture, moving and stroking within her, and then he found her most sensitive nub of flesh, and Ellie nearly burst from the bed.

"Don't fight it," he said, pressing his arousal against her belly. "It only gets better."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Positive."

Her legs went slack again, and this time Charles nudged them further open, settling into the space between her thighs. He moved his hand, and then his manhood touched her, softly probing at her entry.

"That's right," he whispered. "Open for me. Relax." He pushed forward, then stopped for a moment. "How is that?" he asked, but his voice was strained, and Ellie could tell that he was exerting extraordinary control to keep himself from making love to her completely.

"It's very strange," she admitted. "But good. It's— Oh!" She yelped as he moved even closer to her center. "You tricked me."

"That's what it's all about, sweetling."

"Charles, I—"

His face grew serious. "This might hurt you a little."

"It won't," she assured him. "Not with you."

"Ellie, I... Oh, God, I can't wait any longer." He plunged forward, sheathing himself completely within her. "You feel so ... I can't... Oh, Ellie, Ellie."

Charles's body began to move in its primitive rhythm, each thrust accompanied by sounds that were half-groan, half-breath. She was so perfect, so responsive. He'd never before felt desire with this total, complete urgency. He wanted to cherish her and devour her at the same time. He wanted to kiss her, love her, surround her. He wanted everything from her, and he wanted to give her every last piece of himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized this was love, that elusive emotion he'd managed to escape for so many years. But his ideas and feelings were overwhelmed by the raging need of his body, and he lost all power of thought.

He could hear her moans grow higher in pitch, and he knew that she felt the same desperation and need. "Reach for it, Ellie," he said. "Reach for it."

And then she shattered beneath him, muscles tightening like a velvet glove around him, and Charles let out a loud shout as he plunged forward one last time, releasing himself into her womb.

He shuddered a few times with the aftershocks of climax, then collapsed on top of her, dimly realizing that he was probably too heavy for her, but unable to move. Finally, when he felt as if he might have a little bit of control over his body again, he started to roll off of her.

"Don't," she said. "I like feeling you."

"I'll crush you."

"No, you won't. I want to—"

He rolled to his side, pulling her along with him. "See? Isn't this nice?"

She nodded and closed her eyes, looking weary but well-loved.

Charles played absently with her hair, wondering how this had happened, that he had fallen in love with his wife—a woman he'd chosen so impulsively and so desperately. "Did you know I dream about your hair?" he asked.

She opened her eyes in delighted surprise. "Really?"

"Mmm, yes. I always used to think it was the exact color of the sun at sunset, but now I realize that I'm wrong." He pinched a lock and brought it to his lips. "It's brighter. Brighter than the sun. And so are you."

He gathered her into his arms, and then they slept.

Chapter 19

The next week was pure bliss. Ellie and Charles spent more time in bed than out, and when they did venture downstairs, it seemed as if life was conspiring to send only the good things their way. Ellie had her first dress fitting, Claire finished cleaning the orangery and told Ellie she'd very much like to help in the planting, and Judith painted four more watercolors, one of which actually resembled a horse.

Ellie found out later that the painting was in fact meant to be a tree, but Judith's feelings didn't seem to be hurt.

In fact, the only thing that could have possibly made Ellie's life any more perfect would be if Charles were to fall prostrate at her feet, kiss each and every one of her toes, and declare his undying love for her. But Ellie was trying not to dwell on the fact that he hadn't told her he loved her.

Fair was fair, after all, and she hadn't summoned up the courage to tell him, either.

She was optimistic, though. She could tell that Charles enjoyed her company immensely, and there was no denying that they were extremely compatible in bed. She had only to win his heart, and she spent a lot of time reminding herself that she'd never failed at anything she really put her mind to.