been draped over a chair. “You must wash your hair with lilac soap. Shall I take down your hair?”
“Take out the pins and leave the braid.”
“Up on the bed with you, then.”
She slanted a dubious glance at him, but complied. Rye pulled off his boots and sat cross-legged behind her. She wore her chemise, he kept his breeches on, the better to comport himself with the restraint the situation called for.
He searched her hair for pins and mentally cast about for next steps. “What sort of loving do you enjoy most?” She had experience. She’d been at pains to assure him of that, but what sort of experience?
“Not hurried,” she said, “not furtive. What of you?”
How modest were her sexual ambitions, and what a poor reflection they were upon her previous lovers.
“I hope the interlude can be joyous,” Rye said, “sweet, a little wild, and a lot pleasurable. Leisurely until we’re overcome by passion. I want my lover to think of me always with fondness and a smile.” With Ann, fondness and a smile would not be enough, but a soldier crossed Spain mile by mile, step by step.
“Tell me about the wild part.”
And yet, a man could fall in love between one heartbeat and the next.
He showed her, starting with sweet kisses to her shoulders, then turning her to straddle his lap and adding caresses to her breasts. She liked that apparently, arching into his touch, burying her fingers in his hair, and joining her mouth to his.
“Breeches off, Orion.”
“Yes, ma’am.” But to remove his breeches, he had to part from her, which was difficult when he craved to touch her and taste her and feel her heart beating against his own.
Ann solved his dilemma by extricating herself from his embrace and scrambling under the covers. “Quickly, please.”
Rye left the bed and stepped out of his breeches, tossing them atop her dress. He made a little production out of adding a half scoop of coal on the fire, not only to give Ann a chance to inspect him, but also to give himself a chance to gather his wits.
“Should I remove my chemise?” she asked.
He faced the bed and pretended to ignore the cockstand arrowed up along his belly. “If you have to ask, the answer is not yet. When you cannot bear to have the blasted thing on, when you fling it across the room to land who knows where, then it’s time to take it off.”
Ann blushed, but she did not look away. “Clearly, it’s time you joined me in this bed, Orion Goddard.”
“A woman of discernment.”
She lay back, and he climbed under the covers and crouched above her, not touching.
“Orion?”
“Tell me what you want, Annie.”
“You,” she said, reaching for him. “I want you.”
“I am yours to command.” He resumed the slow, soft kisses she seemed to like and by degrees gave her his weight. The fit was marvelous, and the feel of her legs snug around his flanks a pleasure beyond description.
She’d kept the bedroom warm, she’d told him her troubles. She touched him as if he were every weary soldier ever to come home to loving arms, and kissed him as if he were her favorite treat.
He kissed her back with the same sense of rejoicing, for he was hers to command—and hers to love too.
Orion Goddard’s loving had a relentless quality, an unwillingness to be either hurried or denied, that drew Ann away from the troubles in the Coventry’s kitchen. His touch was slow and cherishing, his kisses entrancing.
He focused on Ann, and her focus shifted to him. He was lean all over, tough muscle, scarred flesh, but warm, too, and comfortable with physical intimacy. He ran his hand over Ann’s neck and shoulders, and traced her features with delicate fingers.
“You hide yourself,” he whispered. “Hide behind recipes and aprons, busyness and competence. You don’t have to hide from me, Annie Pearson. Tell me what you want.”
You. Closer. More. The words would not come and barely made sense to Ann anyway. Orion knew what he was about, a far cry from the fumblings Ann had endured in previous encounters. She locked her ankles at the small of his back and pulled him closer.
“You are like the cavalry,” he said, tracing her brow with his nose. “All headlong and heedless. Wellington despaired of us. Surrender to pleasure, and I promise you victory.”
He touched her everywhere, teasing her breasts, caressing her arms, and nuzzling her palms. He was like an incoming tide, submerging Ann more and