That was a truism and applied in many circumstances, in many arenas.
She nodded and paced, her expression alive with intelligence and her own intrinsic energy. He couldn’t escape the obvious-that with her beauty, understanding, and vitality, he couldn’t have found a more suitable wife to partner and support him in the political sphere. That had been the consideration furthest from his mind in arranging his marriage, yet how very important it would indeed be. If he took her to London, she would become one of the political hostesses, socially adept, quick-witted, and manipulative-all in the best interests of their cause.
He knew she had the power to manipulate men-that she knew how just as she knew how to breathe, knew how to make love with him. But she’d never made the mistake of trying to manipulate him, not even in these last days when he would almost think her justified.
For one of her temperament, that couldn’t have been easy.
Times change.
And those who wish to survive adapt.
She swished past him and turned. He reached out and curled his fingers about her wrist, locked them. Surprised, she looked down at him.
He met her eyes. “We’ve discussed politics enough… for the present. I have something else I’d like to discuss with you. Another matter on which I’d value your opinion.”
His gaze locked with hers, he lifted the papers from his lap and dropped them beside his chair. Rising, he stood beside her, and with his free hand gripped the high back of the chair and pushed it around until it faced the windows. He stepped around it and sat, drew her closer, drew her down. She let him sit her across his lap, facing him.
Her neckline was cut wide and scooped but modestly filled in with diaphanous gauze, opening shirtlike from the point between her breasts to fold back in an open collar. Closing his hands about her waist, he bent his head and touched the tip of his tongue to the bare skin at the top of her cleavage, then he stroked slowly upward, nudging her head back, feeling her shudder between his hands as he set his lips like a brand to the base of her throat.
She was his, so totally, unquestioningly his, he was starting to believe he must be hers.
Within seconds the atmosphere in the small room changed from the politically charged to the intensely passionate.
Intensely erotic.
That was his idea, one she fell in with eagerly, searching
his face only briefly before complying with his command to turn and face the windows. He lifted her slightly, settled her bottom on his thighs, then, sitting upright, his chest not quite touching her back, he bent his head and trailed his lips up the column of her throat from the curve of her shoulder to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Place your hands on the arms of the chair.”
Without hesitation, she did. He glanced up, out of the window. “See that large oak-the one directly in front?”
Her head rose and she looked, then nodded.
“I want you to watch the top branches. Don’t look away. Don’t think of anything else. Just think of those branches.” Releasing her waist, he trailed his fingertips-just the tips-up and around to tantalizingly trace her breasts. Her spine locked. “Concentrate on the branches.”
She shifted slightly. “But… they’re bare.”
“Hmm. There’s one or two leaves yet to fall.”
He didn’t touch so much as tease. One hand administering to each ripe mound, he watched from over her shoulder as he mirrored the movements of his hands, circling but never touching the tightening peaks, his fingertips whispering over the fine fabric as he enticed her body to respond, to react.
Her breasts swelled and firmed. He could see her tightly furled nipples taut beneath the restricting bodice. She shifted in his lap.
“Are you concentrating on those branches?”
“Mmm. Gyles-”
“Think of how bare they are.”
How bare she wished to be; he didn’t need telling, but that wasn’t in his rapidly yet expertly designed script for this afternoon. Gently, he cupped her breasts, tested their firmness, then he took his palms from her. “Totally naked.” Using only his fingertips, he closed them about her nipples, gently at first, then with increasing pressure. She gasped, and tilted her head back. “Totally exposed.”
He squeezed, and her back bowed, then he released her and returned to his gently teasing touches.
“Keep watching the branches.”
He repeated the torture-she was a very willing victim-until she was breathing rapidly, shallowly, and her skin was lightly flushed. She slumped against him, tipping her head back to look into his face.
She searched his eyes. “I want you inside me.”