Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,60

him.

Harry handed her into the carriage and then climbed in after her. As the vehicle pulled away he settled back in his seat, surveying her steadily. 'Did you enjoy yourself this evening?'

'With the exception of the five minutes I spent with the conde, very much.'

'Good. I'm afraid you'll have to live on it for a while. We leave tomorrow.'

'The sooner we leave, the sooner you will meet Sanchez,' she replied, 'and that is why you came here in the first place.'

'The thought of more days on the road doesn't daunt you, then?'

'Not unduly.'

'You are forbearing. Most women would have objected most strenuously by now.' He smiled faintly. 'But then you are not most women, are you?'

She was unsure how to respond to that and he saw it.

'I meant that as a compliment, my dear. Very much so.'

Her heart beat a little faster. This evening their relationship was almost back to the way it had been before that charged conversation about Badajoz. Nor did she want that to change.

The inn was quiet when they returned and they made their way to their chamber unnoticed, save for a watchman at the door. Elena laid down her fan and gloves and reached for the buttons at the back of her gown but, being new and stiff, they resisted her efforts.

'Allow me.' He stepped behind her and unfastened them. However, he made no attempt to do anything else. Instead he began to remove his own clothing.

Elena slid the gown off and laid it carefully over a chair. Then she finished undressing to her chemise and sat down to undo her hair. Freed of combs and pins the mass of dark curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She reached for a brush. The glossy strands leapt beneath the strokes.

Harry removed the last of his clothes and slid into bed, watching her. 'You have lovely hair.'

'Thank you. It has a will of its own though.'

He grinned. 'Like its owner.'

'Hmm. I'm not sure how to take that.'

'You may take it as a definite compliment.'

Something about his tone brought warm colour to her face. 'It does not bother you then that a woman should have a will of her own?'

'Far from it. The opposite would be unbearably insipid.'

'I think most men would disagree, but then you are not most men.'

He laughed softly. 'I mean to take that as a compliment.'

'So you should.'

'I'm flattered.'

'No, I meant it.'

'Then I'm honoured.'

Elena laid down the brush and crossed to the bed. He drew the coverlet down and watched her slide in beside him. This time he did not turn away. Instead he leaned closer and kissed her softly on the mouth. It brought a rush of heat into the core of her being. She turned towards him and the kiss became more persuasive. Strong warm hands rested on her waist and stroked gently, then moved across her back. The touch sent a charge along her flesh. He slid the chemise off her shoulder and kissed her naked skin, gradually moving lower until his mouth closed over the peak of her breast, lightly teasing the nipple to tautness. Elena caught her breath. The caress was erotic and it aroused sensations she had never dreamed existed. His hand moved to the place between her thighs and gently stroked. She gasped, arching against him, pressing closer until every inch of their bodies touched, feeling his arousal hard against her thigh.

Harry rolled, pressing her back against the bed, pinning her with his weight while his mouth sought hers. Elena tensed. Out of nowhere an old memory stirred and woke. Unable to move and scarcely able to breathe, her heart began to thump and she felt the first flutter of fear. As the kiss grew more ardent fear quickly became panic. She tore her mouth away from his, panting.

'No...no...please.'

Harry drew back a little. 'What is it, sweetheart?'

'I can't.' Her hands pushed against his breast. 'I'm sorry. I...I thought I could but I can't.'

'I'm not going to hurt you, Elena.'

She struggled harder. 'Please...let me go.'

Desire ebbed and he rolled aside, frowning. 'It's all right, sweetheart. Don't be afraid. Nothing's going to happen that you don't want.'

Her eyes filled with tears of shame. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry.'

'There's nothing to be sorry for.'

The gentleness in his tone was the final straw. The tears spilled over and then became sobs. Harry was appalled but he had sense enough not to try and stem the flow, guessing that it was long overdue. In that he was