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.She didn't want him to go, but neither could she ask him to stay.In another moment he was to the door, and thenhe was gone.Erienne drew the bedcovers over her shoulder and curled in atight, miserable knot beneath them.The evening had taken its tollon her emotions, and she could not stop shaking.Her body waslike a taut bowstring that still twanged after the arrow had left it.She clenched her teeth and fought against the tumult of frayedemotions, but no effort of hers could bring about a calming.With a cry of frustration, she sat up and snatched the towel fromher head, sailing it to the floor.The chill of her damp hair lent toher shivering, and she ran to huddle on a stool before the hearth.There she hung her head over her knees, spreading the longtresses before the heat of the fire while she brushed them dry.Though the radiating warmth brought a blush to her skin, it failedto soothe her tensed nerves.She returned to the bed and, by dint of determination, forcedherself to think of something sobering.A dark shape became thefocal point of her concentration, and she envisioned the large,limping form of her husband while she crushed the dreamyillusions of Christopher beneath a stubborn will.The misshapenimage tugged at the heart of her conscience, and gradually thetrembling ceased.Encouraging the sobering thoughts to continue,she recounted the months and moments since her first meetingwith Lord Saxton.The memories began to play with herconsciousness, conjuring murky, indistinct visions and blendingthem until they were swept up in a confused jumble of eventsthat lost touch with reality.As if through a murky haze she sawlong-fanged, gaping jowls closing in for the kill, then geysers ofwater spraying upward from the path of churning black hooves.A cloaked figure swung down from the prancing steed andsplashed through the stream toward her.Erienne heaved a soft sigh as she settled in the sheltering arms ofsleep.Having been set to their course by the willful determinationof her mind, her dreams took up the pattern.She stood amidswirling draperies, lost in their never-ending lengths.In confusionshe ran hither and yon, but the pastel shades of silken cloth held her prisoner.Then through the pale-hued mists a dark-cloakedshadow limped haltingly toward her.Though she fled, she foundno escape, and it came ever nearer until her world became ablackened void.She drifted, helpless, numb, wanting to sit orstand or scream, but paralyzed in the nether land, unable tomove.Strong arms reached to anchor her and drew her back.She feltthe vibrant heat of a man's body press close against her back.Hermind struggled to full awareness, for no dream had ever come soboldly to her.Though her eyes found only the same dark void ofsleep, her senses confirmed the fact that reality had come to herin the shape of a man.Yet fantasy was still tightly woven throughthe warp of reaspn, and the two were inseparable, for he wasdarkness to her, warm and alive, but without a form or face shecould recognize.She was seized by a sudden fear that thetormenting rogue had returned to lie in bed with her, and shestarted up with a gasp.A hand came to restrain her, and a raspingwhisper calmed her. Nay, never fly from me, my love.Come here, and nest a whilein my arms. Erienne relaxed back against him and allowed him to turn her inhis arms until they lay together, soft, curving flesh againstsmooth, hard, rippling thews.His head dipped downward, and herbreath caught as a flaming tongue swirled over her breasts.Itwandered with tantalizing slowness over them, leaving a fierytrail after its passing.Her senses reeled in a wild, giddy flight thatleft her panting and breathless.Reality ceased to matter.Hebecame all things to her, a handsome lover, a scarred husband, aform in a black cloak that snatched her from the drooling fangs ofthe hunting hounds.She felt him rise above her, and she quivered as his handsstroked slowly downward over the swell of her breasts andcontinued on to the curve of her hips, then upward along theinside of her thighs.A need began to grow in her, a hollow feelingthat ached to be filled.She reached up to urge him down into herarms, and her hand brushed the crisp mat of hair on his chest. The muscles beneath her palm were firm and bulging, and muchin wonder, she moved trembling fingers across the wide expanse,admiring the form that was ever concealed from her gaze.Sherose on her knees to face him and moved slightly forwardbetween his thighs, resting her hands on the lean, fleshed ribs.She reached to press her lips against his throat, while her breastslightly caressed his chest.Pulling her wildly tumbling hair overhis shoulders, she slipped her arms behind his neck and came fullagainst him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.She didn't want him to go, but neither could she ask him to stay.In another moment he was to the door, and thenhe was gone.Erienne drew the bedcovers over her shoulder and curled in atight, miserable knot beneath them.The evening had taken its tollon her emotions, and she could not stop shaking.Her body waslike a taut bowstring that still twanged after the arrow had left it.She clenched her teeth and fought against the tumult of frayedemotions, but no effort of hers could bring about a calming.With a cry of frustration, she sat up and snatched the towel fromher head, sailing it to the floor.The chill of her damp hair lent toher shivering, and she ran to huddle on a stool before the hearth.There she hung her head over her knees, spreading the longtresses before the heat of the fire while she brushed them dry.Though the radiating warmth brought a blush to her skin, it failedto soothe her tensed nerves.She returned to the bed and, by dint of determination, forcedherself to think of something sobering.A dark shape became thefocal point of her concentration, and she envisioned the large,limping form of her husband while she crushed the dreamyillusions of Christopher beneath a stubborn will.The misshapenimage tugged at the heart of her conscience, and gradually thetrembling ceased.Encouraging the sobering thoughts to continue,she recounted the months and moments since her first meetingwith Lord Saxton.The memories began to play with herconsciousness, conjuring murky, indistinct visions and blendingthem until they were swept up in a confused jumble of eventsthat lost touch with reality.As if through a murky haze she sawlong-fanged, gaping jowls closing in for the kill, then geysers ofwater spraying upward from the path of churning black hooves.A cloaked figure swung down from the prancing steed andsplashed through the stream toward her.Erienne heaved a soft sigh as she settled in the sheltering arms ofsleep.Having been set to their course by the willful determinationof her mind, her dreams took up the pattern.She stood amidswirling draperies, lost in their never-ending lengths.In confusionshe ran hither and yon, but the pastel shades of silken cloth held her prisoner.Then through the pale-hued mists a dark-cloakedshadow limped haltingly toward her.Though she fled, she foundno escape, and it came ever nearer until her world became ablackened void.She drifted, helpless, numb, wanting to sit orstand or scream, but paralyzed in the nether land, unable tomove.Strong arms reached to anchor her and drew her back.She feltthe vibrant heat of a man's body press close against her back.Hermind struggled to full awareness, for no dream had ever come soboldly to her.Though her eyes found only the same dark void ofsleep, her senses confirmed the fact that reality had come to herin the shape of a man.Yet fantasy was still tightly woven throughthe warp of reaspn, and the two were inseparable, for he wasdarkness to her, warm and alive, but without a form or face shecould recognize.She was seized by a sudden fear that thetormenting rogue had returned to lie in bed with her, and shestarted up with a gasp.A hand came to restrain her, and a raspingwhisper calmed her. Nay, never fly from me, my love.Come here, and nest a whilein my arms. Erienne relaxed back against him and allowed him to turn her inhis arms until they lay together, soft, curving flesh againstsmooth, hard, rippling thews.His head dipped downward, and herbreath caught as a flaming tongue swirled over her breasts.Itwandered with tantalizing slowness over them, leaving a fierytrail after its passing.Her senses reeled in a wild, giddy flight thatleft her panting and breathless.Reality ceased to matter.Hebecame all things to her, a handsome lover, a scarred husband, aform in a black cloak that snatched her from the drooling fangs ofthe hunting hounds.She felt him rise above her, and she quivered as his handsstroked slowly downward over the swell of her breasts andcontinued on to the curve of her hips, then upward along theinside of her thighs.A need began to grow in her, a hollow feelingthat ached to be filled.She reached up to urge him down into herarms, and her hand brushed the crisp mat of hair on his chest. The muscles beneath her palm were firm and bulging, and muchin wonder, she moved trembling fingers across the wide expanse,admiring the form that was ever concealed from her gaze.Sherose on her knees to face him and moved slightly forwardbetween his thighs, resting her hands on the lean, fleshed ribs.She reached to press her lips against his throat, while her breastslightly caressed his chest.Pulling her wildly tumbling hair overhis shoulders, she slipped her arms behind his neck and came fullagainst him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]