Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

The tiny buttons parted quickly under his fingers. When her gown was loose to her waist, she felt his hands warm on her bare shoulders. She jumped at the pleasure his touch gave her. She tried to pull away from him slowly, with dignity.

“What the hell is that?”

“What is what?”

“This thing you have laced up to your eyebrows.”

“It is a corset, sir. I suppose you will have to unlace it too.”

“You were not wearing that nonsense in Folkestone.”

“No,” she said, “I wasn’t.”

She breathed in deeply as the corset loosened. “Ah, that feels better,” she said. She felt him pull it away from her, and saw him lean toward the fireplace from the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?”

“Destroying that piece of armor.”

She watched the stiff material flame up. “The boning won’t burn,” she said. “I would appreciate it, Alex, if you would not destroy any more of my clothes.”

“No more corsets. Jesus, you’re thin as a rail, and when you do fill out a bit, that wretched contraption could harm the baby.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“There are some other things you haven’t thought of as well,” he said.

“You can leave now, Alex,” she said, her voice too loud. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Leave my bride on our wedding night? I would not be such a bounder, Giana.”

She kept her eyes fastened on her toes. He knew, damn him, that she wanted him, and there he was, standing quite at his ease, but three feet from her, lazily studying her.

“Haven’t you anything better to do?”

“Indeed I do,” he said. “Making love to my bride is my sacred duty.”

“I am not your bride.”

“Do you have any idea how adorable you look with your gown falling about your hips and your hair loose?”

“You of all people know that I am not the least bit adorable. Please, Alex, just leave now. I don’t want you to make sport of me anymore.”

His smile faded and he threw himself down in a chair with his back to her. “Get into your nightgown, Giana,” he said.

She picked up her cotton nightgown and stalked behind the dressing screen. Her fingers were trembling. “What time does our ship sail tomorrow?”

“Nine o’clock in the morning. I’ve already seen to the stowing of your trunks. We shouldn’t have to dash about.”

Alex turned to her as she stepped from behind the screen, clutching her dressing gown about her. Her face was pale in the dancing firelight, and she looked for the world like a small, frightened child, save for her eyes, which held his in silent question.

He strode over to her and cupped her chin in his hand. “I have never known a more passionate woman,” he said, “nor one who tried so hard to deny it.” He gently pulled her fisted hands away from her dressing gown. “Hold me, Giana. Men enjoy being held as much as women.”

She closed her hands tentatively around his back, and rose to her tiptoes. “You are so big,” she said.

He held her tightly against him for a moment, forcing his hands to be still. “I want to make love to you, Giana.”

“Since I am already a fallen woman, I do want to know what the falling is like.”

He dropped a light kiss on her nose, and smiled when he saw her brow furrowed in thought.