made a show of tidying up, but she couldn't resist sneaking a guilty sidelong glance in his direction.
Silhouetted in profile against the orange flames in the other fireplace, Andrew had removed his shirt and was now bending to shed his breeches. Micheline glimpsed broad shoulders and the play of muscles over his back and arms, but when a lean hip and the hard curve of a buttock became visible, she turned away in haste. A confusing whirlpool of feelings swirled within her—and at its vortex were acute excitement and shame.
* * *
Finally there was nothing left to do. The cottage was truly cold now. Every dish and pot had been scrubbed and put away. Across the room Andrew had closed the bed's velvet draperies and was presumably asleep within. Micheline put two more logs on the fire, then finished her cup of wine. It did nothing to slow her racing pulse.
At last Micheline approached the bed. She unlaced her gown, removed it, and laid it over the back of a nearby chair. Next came her petticoat. Few people wore clothing to bed, including Micheline, but the idea of sleeping naked beside Andrew Selkirk was too incredible to entertain. Still wearing a thin chemise, she parted the curtains, lifted the fur spread and the covers under it, and slid into bed with the utmost care. The velvet draperies shut out all light and evidence of the outside world. Micheline lay motionless, feeling Andrew's warmth in the bed and hearing his soft, rhythmic breathing. She was afraid to breathe herself, or make the slightest movement that might disturb him. For what seemed like hours she remained thus, thinking her heartbeat would never slow and sleep would never come.
* * *
Deep into the night Sandhurst dreamed that ripe breasts were touching his chest and a soft, shapely leg was sliding over his own hard limbs. Meanwhile a hand had crept around his bare waist.
"Mmmm." The voice's owner pressed her face against his shoulder and made another contented sleep sound.
His eyes opened to total darkness. Iris? he wondered fuzzily, then gradually remembered that he was not in England but in France, not in his own bed but—
Silky hair caressed Sandhurst's jaw. He held his breath and felt his heart jump. It was Micheline! Quickly he reminded himself that she was asleep. She had probably gotten cold and snuggled against him for warmth, completely unaware of what she was doing. Completely innocent, he repeated sternly, clenching his teeth against his own involuntary arousal. Micheline chose that moment to sigh, her breasts swelling against him through the thin stuff of her chemise, while her hand slipped down to Sandhurst's hip and brushed his fully hardened manhood for one life-stopping instant.
Smothering a hoarse moan, he turned slowly on his side to face her. Micheline nuzzled his chest. It began to occur to him that whether she was asleep or not, on some level Micheline knew what she was doing.
Tentatively he brought his hand up under the covers, softly cupped her breast, and felt the nipple harden against his palm. Micheline was raising her face, searching in the dark. Sandhurst needed no further encouragement. His open mouth closed over the delicious softness of her parted lips. After a moment she returned his kiss in earnest, matching his passion, and he gathered her into an intimate embrace.
Awakening, Micheline could see nothing in the blackness, but she knew immediately that this was no dream, and that it was a very real Andrew Selkirk who was kissing her with such ardent expertise. Resistance didn't occur to her. She cared for nothing except the ravenous hunger that seemed to consume both her body and soul. Now that she was in his strong arms, she didn't want to ever leave them.
Micheline wrapped her own arms tightly around him, glorying in the taut warmth of his skin and its intoxicatingly male scent. Desire mixed with violent emotion to make her shiver. When she put her tongue into his mouth, tasting and exploring with mounting eagerness, Sandhurst could feel her lips trembling. An elemental need much stronger than simple physical passion radiated from her body, and his heart swelled in response.
He found the ribbons of her chemise and deftly unlaced them, then lost patience and tore the delicate garment open to bare all of Micheline's enticingly curved body. Burying his face in the valley between her breasts, Andrew felt the wild beating of her heart and kissed the satiny flesh that covered it.
"How lovely you