What did surprise her was her response, the flood of heat that pooled low in her body, the tightening of muscles of which she’d never before been aware, the sudden hot throbbing in the soft flesh between her thighs.
He raised his head; his touch firmed, grew more demanding. She heard the taut tension that held him when he let out a short breath. His lips touched her throat, traced upward, circled her ear, brushed her temple. “Caro?”
He wanted her; she didn’t doubt it, yet…“I don’t…I’m not sure…”
The moment had come far sooner than she’d expected; she wasn’t sure what she should do.
Michael sighed, but didn’t retrieve his hand from the heated hollow between her thighs. He continued to caress her while verifying the information his senses had intuitively gauged. Confirmed that she did indeed want him, that she might, if he asked…
“I want you.” He didn’t need to embellish that; the truth rang in the gravelly words. He was hard and aching, one step away from pain. With one fingertip, he circled the soft fullness of her flesh through her gown. “I want to come inside you, sweet Caro. There’s no reason on earth we shouldn’t indulge.”
Caro heard; the words fell, dark and deeply seductive, into her mind. She knew they were true, at least as he meant them. But he didn’t know…and if she agreed, and then…what if, despite all, it went wrong again? If she was wrong again?
She could feel her pulse pounding under her skin, could, for the first time in her life, imagine it was desire, hot and sweet, that she felt, that filled her and urged her to agree, to simply nod—and let him have his way. Let him show her…
But if it went wrong, how would she feel? How could she face him?
She couldn’t.
With his hand stroking her, caressing her, blatant promise in every touch, with desire thrumming compu
lsively in her veins, it required immense effort to draw back. To gather enough will to resist, to say no.
He seemed to sense her decision, spoke quickly, urgently, almost desperately, “We can be married whenever you wish, but for God’s sake, sweetheart, let me come inside you.”
His words crashed over her in an icy wave, drowning all desire. Panic, full blown, reared from the coldness and gripped her.
She jerked back out of his hold. Horrified, she stared at him. “What did you say?”
The words were weak; her world was whirling, but no longer pleasantly.
Michael blinked, stared at her stunned face—mentally replayed his words. Inwardly grimaced. He frowned lightly at her. “For pity’s sake, Caro, you know where we’ve been heading. I want to make love with you.”
Very thoroughly. Multiple times. He hadn’t realized just how powerful that need had grown, but it now had him in its grip and wasn’t about to let go. Not until…Her sudden vacillation wasn’t helping.
Her eyes had been fixed on his face, searching…she stiffened even more. “No, you don’t—you want to marry me!”
The accusation hit him like a slap, one that left him disoriented. He stared at her, then felt his face set. “I want—and intend—to do both.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “One once, the other frequently.”
She narrowed her eyes back. “Not with me.”
Her chin set; she reached for her chemise and yanked it up. “I don’t intend to marry again.”
He watched the gorgeous mounds of her breasts disappear behind the flimsy barrier; it might as well have been steel. He bit back an oath, forced himself to think…he thrust a hand through his hair. “But what…this is ridiculous! You can’t expect me to believe you thought I would seduce you—my closest neighbor’s sister—the past Member’s sister—and not be thinking of marriage.”
She was retying the straps of her chemise, her movements jerky and tense. He knew she was upset, but it was difficult to tell exactly in what way. She glanced up; her gaze clashed with his. “Try another tack.” Her tone was flat and uncompromising. “I’m rather more than seven.”
Looking down, she wriggled her gown back up and into place. “I’m a widow—I thought you wanted to seduce me, not marry me!”
Accusation still rang in her tone, still lit her silver eyes. His disorientation wasn’t improving. “But…what’s wrong with us getting married? For heaven’s sake! You know I need a wife, and why, and here you are, the perfect candidate.”
She recoiled as if he’d struck her, then her mask slammed into place and she looked down. “Except I don’t want to marry again—I will not do so.”
Abruptly, she stood, swung around, and presented him with her back. “You undid my laces—please do them up again.”
Her voice shook. Narrow-eyed, he regarded her slender back, her hands locked on her hips, was conscious of a building impulse to simply seize her and be damned…but she suddenly seemed so fragile.
He swung his leg back over the bench and surged to his feet, stepped directly behind her, caught her lacings and yanked them tight. Exasperation and an even more powerful frustration dug their spurs deep. “Just answer me this.” He kept his eyes on the laces as he tightened, then tied them. “If my mentioning marriage is such a shock to you, what did you imagine what’s been developing between us would lead to? How did you think this would play out?”