Love in the Afternoon (The Hathaways, #5)

by Lisa Kleypas

The thought of her being hurt was more than his soul could bear.

Christopher’s numbness started melting like spring ice. And it had nothing to do with the Armagnac. It was all Beatrix. God, he adored her.

She looked angelic and guileless, as if sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“Something’s not right. You’re so far away.” “I’m right here.”

“Beatrix, I’m not in the mood for virginal experimentation.” She gave him a purely ingenuous look. “Neither am I.”

“I can undress faster than you can dress me,” she informed him.

The entire world was nothing but delicate shivering flesh, the taste of a woman, his woman, her intimate elixir more powerful than wine, opium, exotic spices.

He had no words, no way to beg please don’t try to stop me, I can’t, I have to have you. He had no strength to resist any longer. Looking down at her, he said her name, his voice hoarse and questioning.

with the effort to be gentle when every instinct screamed to thrust hard into the luscious heat.

He began to thrust with a groan of relief, knowing nothing except the blinding pleasure of being inside her, being caressed by her.

He came endlessly, cradling her in his arms, hunching over her as if he could protect her, even as he lunged into her with ravenous strokes.

It took a while for him to realize that the trembling came not from her, but him.

She had the sense of having tamed him, although it was a valid question as to whether it had really been the other way around.

“Did you plan this?” “You’re asking if I deliberately set out to seduce you? No, it was entirely spontaneous.”

“You probably think I’m a hussy.” His thumb edged the swollen curve of her lower lip. “Actually, I was thinking about how to get you upstairs to the bedroom. But now that you mention it … you are a hussy.”

He wasn’t comfortable with any woman having such power over him.

Very well. She would certainly not be submissive to him in all things, but she could yield to him on a few points.

“You’ll stay the rest of the afternoon,” Christopher said evenly. “You’re not going to invade my house, have your way with me, and dash off as if I were some errand you had to take care of.”

“I’ve fallen from a horse, and seduced you, and now I’m bruised and sore all over.” “I’ll take care of you.”

“Are you going to argue with me?” Beatrix tried to sound meek. “No, sir.” A slow smile crossed his face. “That was the worst attempt at obedience I’ve ever seen.” “Let’s practice,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck....

“You can’t take me upstairs like this.” “Why not?” “I’m only wearing your shirt.” “That doesn’t matter. Turn the doorknob.” “What if one of the servants should see?” Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Now you’re worried about propriety? Open the damned door, Beatrix.”

“And no, I won’t let anything happen to you. I have plans for you.”

“Don’t drop the glass,” Christopher murmured, his hand still between her thighs. Beatrix nearly choked on her next swallow of champagne. “That’s wicked,” she said,

“I see the good in you.” “Don’t harbor illusions about me. In marrying me, you’re going to have to make the best of a bad bargain. You don’t understand the situation you’re in.”

“You’re right.” Beatrix arched in bliss as he massaged the muscles on either side of her spine. “Any woman would pity me, being in this situation.” “It’s one thing to spend an afternoon in bed with me,” Christopher said darkly. “It’s another to experience day-to-day life with a lunatic.”

Lowering his head, he kissed and licked at her smile as if he could taste it.

Sliding his arms around her, he poured the years of anguished longing into her.

And she continued to murmur to him, promising love, safety, new dreams to replace the broken ones. Promising forever.

Beatrix was an experience for which he had no reference point or comparison.

She was too innocent, too fine, to be what fate had intended for him. But he wanted her too badly to care. He would take her, and whatever calamity fate might choose to inflict in return, he would keep Beatrix safe from it. Or from himself, if necessary.

“The trick was forgetting about what she had lost … and learning to go on with what she had left.”

Beatrix had a way of looking at someone with undivided attention, making him feel as if he were the most interesting person in the room.

“Careful. Jealousy is quite unfashionable these days. One must have the sophistication to be amused by the attentions paid to one’s wife.”

“I’ll take great amusement in tossing him through the window.” Christopher paused as Audrey laughed. Clearly she thought he was jesting.

“Once you’ve had a woman like that, you can never be content with the ordinary kind.”

… Ramsay was found flirting in the corner with a woman. They had to drag him away from her.” “Who was it?” “His own wife.” “Oh, dear.” “Yes. How unseemly for a married couple to carry on so.”

“Soon,” Beatrix whispered, as if she had read his thoughts, and he let his gaze caress her. “And don’t look at me like that,” she added. “It makes my knees wobbly.”

“Then I won’t tell you what I’d like to do with you right now. Because you’d topple over like a ninepin.”

“Beatrix,” he whispered. “I’ll never stop needing you.”

“When I give you away at the altar, Bea, I want you to remember something. I’m not really giving you away. I’m merely allowing him the chance to love you as much as the rest of us do.”

“He does,” she whispered. “I think so, too,” her brother whispered back. “I wouldn’t let you marry him otherwise.”

“Oh. Thank you, but Christopher has already, er … provided the information.” Amelia’s brows lifted. “Has he?” “Yes. Although he used a different euphemism than birds or bees.” “Did he? What did he reference, then?” “Squirrels,”

No matter what the surprise was, Beatrix thought as she leaned back into his cradling arms, this moment was bliss. She savored the feel of him, all his strength around her, his body adjusting easily to every movement of the horse.

“You did this for me?”

Christopher held her, his hands coursing slowly over her back and hips. His lips found the tender skin of her cheeks, her chin, the yielding softness of her mouth. Through the descending diaphanous layers of pleasure, Beatrix answered him blindly, taking a shivering breath as his long fingers curved beneath her jaw. He shaped her lips with his own, his tongue questing gently. The taste of him was smooth and subtle and masculine. Intoxicating. Needing more of him, she struggled to draw him deeper, to kiss him harder, and he resisted with a quiet laugh.

“Our song,” Beatrix whispered, as the sweet strains floated up to them. “Yes.” Beatrix lowered to the floor and braced her folded arms on the windowsill … the same place where she had lit so many candles for a soldier fighting in a faraway land.

“You are a vision, Mrs. Phelan.” “As fair as moonlight,” another said. “Thank you,” Christopher said. “Now stop wooing my wife, and take your leave.”

It’s just … I spent so many hours in this place, dreaming of being with you someday. But I never dared to believe it could really happen.” “You had to believe, just a little,” Christopher whispered. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have come true.”

However …”—she gave him a brilliant grin—“I wouldn’t mind a glass of champagne.” Taking her face in his hands, Christopher kissed her swiftly. “For that smile, you can have the entire bottle.”

It felt like a husbandly act, this unfastening of her dress, both comforting and pleasant. As he bared her nape, he pressed his lips to the delicate skin, and strung more lingering kisses to the top of her spine.