The door opened.
Sammy entered.
The real evening had begun.
"Welcome, imp."
Rem's voice was a husky caress. "I trust you arrived here relatively unscathed."
"Relatively." Sammy lowered her wrap in time to see him lean past her and firmly shut the door.
They were alone. Sammy sensed it at once.
The lamps were turned down low, casting the hall in shadows. Pervaded by silence, the walls vibrated with heated anticipation, emanating excitement and longing and the wonderful, masculine scent of Rem. Sammy swallowed, feeling the palpable tension spring to life again, pulsing between them, inside them.
"Where are the servants?" she asked breathlessly.
"Gone." Rem braced his arms over either side of her, palms flattened against the heavy wooden door. "Does that frighten you?"
Sammy lifted her chin, met the smoky heat in his eyes and shook her head. "No." Reaching up, she traced his lips with trembling fingers. "I thought perhaps you'd truly sent me home."
"And left us aching? Never. I merely assured us long hours of privacy while protecting your reputation. If my strategy was successful, the entire haute ton believes you to be snug in your bed, blissfully asleep."
"Neither of which I intend to be ... in my own bed, or blissfully asleep." She sighed. "I've waited forever for this."
"So have I." He kissed her fingertips, one by one, each kiss more intimate than the one preceding it. "And I swore to myself that when the time came to finally make you mine, I'd go slowly. Even if it killed me. But now"—he drew her fingers into his mouth, his breathing ragged—"I'm just not sure I can."
"Don't," she whispered. Her hands glided up his waistcoat, her arms twined about his neck. "Don't go slowly."
Rem's mouth came down on hers; hard, demanding, seeking all she had ... and finding it. At the same time, he fused the distance between them, pressing her against the solid surface behind her, bringing her into absolute contact with the hardened contours of his body. "I want you," he said hoarsely. "I want to make love to you until every drop of passion is spent, until you shatter in my arms, until I pour my soul into yours. Samantha ..." His arms dropped to her shoulders, slid down her back, effortlessly lifted her into the drowning hunger of his embrace.
Sammy returned his passion full measure, a sharing rather than a surrender, the events soon to follow predestined, since that stormy night in Boydry's. Loving Rem, making love with him, was as natural a step to her as breathing.
Rem's lips possessed her everywhere; her cheeks, her neck, her throat. He was keenly aware of Samantha returning his kisses, giving herself to him with an innocent abandon more devastating than the erotic acts of the most practiced courtesans. His body careened wildly out of control, hurtling him into a dark oblivion dominated by instinct and feeling. Gone was the expert lover and accomplished seducer, in their place a man as unprepared for the intensity of what was occurring between them as was the beautiful woman in his arms.
Somewhere in the dim outskirts of his mind, Rem secured a shred of sanity ... enough to scoop Samantha off the floor, carry her up the stairs and into his bedchamber. He lowered her to the bed, following her down, capturing her mouth in another searing, blazing kiss, tugging the combs from her hair and letting the thick sable tresses cascade over his hands and down her back.
"I want you to feel things you never dreamed of," he breathed, capturing strands of black silk and bringing them to his lips. "I want this time—your first time—to be so perfect, so unbearably beautiful, you'll never forget it."
"I could never forget making love with you, Rem. Never." With breathtaking innocence, Sammy tugged at his cravat, slipping the knot free, only to begin unfastening his shirt.
Rem endured her untried attempts to disrobe him as long as he could. Then he caught her hands in his. "Let me."
A shadow of disappointment crossed her face.
Rem's heart constricted, and he brought her fingers to his lips, then back to his shirtfront. "Together," he whispered.
Moving Sammy's trembling hands under his, Rem unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat, pulling the edges apart and pressing her palms to his naked flesh.
Sammy caressed his chest, leaned forward to nuzzle the mat of dark hair covering it. "You're so strong," she breathed, rubbing her cheek against the hard muscles and steely flesh. "I knew you would be."
A ragged groan erupted from Rem's chest, and he dragged her mouth back to his, kissing her savagely, nearly tearing her gown in his haste to remove it. He worshiped her bare shoulders with his lips and tongue, inhaling her scent, soothing her body's unconscious trembling, only to find he was shaking more violently than she. The thin material of her chemise gave beneath his onslaught, and, wordlessly, he lifted her against him, rubbing her naked breasts across his chest.
Samantha whimpered, drowning in heated sensation, clutching Rem's arms for support. Her nipples tightened painfully with each tingling brush of his hair-roughened flesh; her loins went liquid with longing. Gathering handfuls of wool, she tugged at his coat, wanting to rid him of every impediment to their joining.
Responding to her unspoken plea, Rem released her only long enough to drag off the offending coat, taking his open shirt and waistcoat with it. His torso bared, he gathered Sammy to him again, melding their naked flesh until she moaned, her head dropping helplessly to his shoulder. "So damned good," he ground out, absorbing her shudders. "Let me taste you, sweetheart."
Gently he eased her back, wrapping one arm about her waist and arching her up to his mouth. It had been mere days since their forbidden encounter at Vauxhall, but he was starved for the taste of her, the sweet, intoxicating flavor that was Samantha's alone.