Chapter Nineteen
Numb with grief, Sarah slipped to the side of the bed to offer a prayer for the swift delivery of Agatha's soul into heaven. Then, still clutching the gnarled fingers, she pressed her face against the coverlet and wept.
Her tears were nearly spent when she heard the front door open. Pulling swiftly to her feet, she met Nick at the head of the stairs.
"Is she . . ." Nick never said the word; the tears that streaked Sarah's face were his answer. Turning, he flopped down to sit on the top step. "How long?"
Dropping to her knees behind him, Sarah hesitated only a heartbeat before wrapping her arms about his shoulders. Pain radiated from his body, but in that pain she found her strength, and her voice was steady when she spoke.
"She had an easy passing."
Nick shuddered within her arms. "I should have been here."
Sarah pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "You were here to bring joy to her life, and you did," she said slowly, searching for words that might grant him comfort. "In her last minutes, she had nothing but praise for the love you gifted her. And although she would have given anything to have seen you one last time, had it been in her power to do so, she would not have exchanged a lifetime of happiness for a final word of parting. You gave her too many special memories and she cherished them deeply."
"Was she in pain?" His voice was hoarse, and for the first time in her life, Sarah Townsend willfully told a lie.
"No . . . she wasn't. I think she was more annoyed that the time couldn't be of her choosing."
Nick gave a painful chuckle. "That sounds like Gran. She'd thumb her nose at the devil himself."
"Nick . . ." Sarah hesitated and then pressed on. "At the very end she seemed more than relieved to be going. It was almost as if she was excited. I think she saw her husband, for she smiled and spoke his name with her last breath."
Nick shuddered again and then straightened and took a deep, cleansing breath. "She loved Roger very much. When I was little, she'd sit me on her lap and tell the most outrageous stories. Grandfather was always the hero. He could command a ship, win at cards, deal in business – there was nothing that he couldn't do."
Sarah smiled against his back. "He sounds just like you."
Nick shook his head. "I always thought it unfair that he was taken from her so early in life," he sighed. "Gran lost so many people who were dear to her."
"She had you to love her, Nick," Sarah said gently. "Some go through their entire life and never have that."
Nick eased out of her arms and stood unsteadily on the step for a moment. His knuckles were white where he gripped the banister, and Sarah was startled to see how much color had drained from his face when he turned to her.
"I shall always harbor the wish to have been with her at the end," he said quietly. "But since I wasn't, I can only take comfort that she was not alone. She probably never spoke of it, but I know for a fact that during these past weeks Gran had grown to love you very much."
Sarah felt her own tears threaten anew and fought them back. "Thank you," she whispered. "She was a truly extraordinary person."
Nick wiped his hand across his face, erasing the last of his weakness. "And now, I need to say good-bye."
Sarah nodded and stepped aside, but as Nick reached his grandmother's door, he hesitated. "Would you come with me?"
In that moment, Sarah saw the vulnerable young boy Chris had spoken of, and knew she would have walked over hot coals if he had asked. She reached for his hand and led him into the room where Agatha Beaumont had once reigned supreme.
Sarah would forever be amazed at the hours that followed Agatha's death, for as news spread, it was as if the town itself had been cast into mourning. Shops closed and business in Middle Plantation came to a standstill.
Ezra Hawkins, the cabinetmaker, had been the first to arrive and he carried a fine coffin of cedar in the back of his wagon. "For a final thank you to Mrs. Beaumont," he said solemnly. But when Nick offered payment, the man heartily refused. "Long time back, my shop was damaged bad in a fire. Mrs. Beaumont was a spry young filly then. Showed up on my doorstep one morning and handed me the money to get back on my feet again. She let me repay the principal, but she wouldn't take no interest, said neighbors owed each other and that was that. Then she made me swear on all things holy not to tell a soul what she did. Well, I kept my promise these past twenty-seven years, but I also made a promise to myself that day." Hawkins had watched with hat in hand and tears in his eyes as Luther and Oscar unloaded his gift. Then, without another word, the man climbed into his wagon and pulled away.
Charlotte Rousseau and Gracie Richardson had arrived next. They chatted together easily as Charlotte fashioned a pillow for the casket from some of her finest satin and Gracie stitched black bands of mourning onto shirtsleeves. No one seemed to care that one dressed in the height of fashion and the other didn't.
And so the afternoon continued. Walter Johnson arrived to affix ornate silver fasteners on the coffin and he, too, refused payment, leaving Nick to stand in wonder about the unknown generosity of the woman he had called Gran. She had touched so many lives, yet she had made each promise secrecy. Why, he wondered, did you not share this with me?
Black wreaths appeared on the front door, and food began to arrive with each tick of the clock. By the time the sun had set, Agatha rested in the parlor like a queen in her casket, and three more tables had been added to the dining room to hold all the cakes, custard tarts, and fancy jellies brought by neighbors.
The hands of the clock edged past midnight as Sarah extinguished the last candle and slowly made her way up the darkened staircase. Less than an hour before, an exhausted Nick had retired to the room he had occupied as a boy, and Sarah couldn't help but wonder what thoughts filled his mind as the night settled in around them. Agatha's words echoed over and over in her heart. He'll never forgive himself for not being here . . . promise me you'll take his pain . . . promise me you'll stay with him tonight.
Oh, Agatha, she thought, entering her chambers and securing the door behind her, do you have any idea what you ask of me? But even as her mind spun with confusion, her hands were removing her lace cap and reaching for the pins that held her hair.
Lost in thought, Nick rested in bed and watched the moonlight filter through his opened window. Toy soldiers lined the top of his desk, but tonight their imagined battles were far from his mind.
"Why did you never tell me, Gran?" he challenged the silence of the room, for in truth he still could feel her presence. "Did you think me incapable of keeping your secret? Did you think I would find fault with the fact that you cared for your neighbors, that you were willing to share your wealth? Did you think I would beg you to save it for me?" A silent tear escaped to trace down his lean cheek. "We were supposed to be so close, yet you never spoke a word of it." Nick felt the achy lump in his chest begin to swell and he swallowed hard. "And damn it, why didn't you wait to tell me good-bye? Why didn't I come early today like you asked?"
"Because regardless of our wants, it was not meant to be."
Nick jerked upright on the bed and turned to see a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. "Sarah?" His voice was hesitant. "What are you doing here?'
He heard the latch slip into place, then watched as she glided across the room to stand in the glow of the moonlight. He could see the gentle curve of her hip through the thin fabric of her nightrail and briefly he wondered if his grief was causing him to hallucinate.
"Please don't send me away." Her voice trembled but from what, he knew not. "I learned an important lesson today, and I would share it with you."
Nick drew his knees up under the sheet and rested his arms on them. "Sarah, you shouldn't be here. Go back to your own room. We can talk of this in the morning."
Her fingers shook as she reached for the bow at the throat of her gown, for even in her dreams she had never gone this far. Her nerves stretched to the limit. Would she have to undress completely? She had no e
xperience on which to draw, and as her trembling increased, only a deep unrelenting need to be with him kept her from fleeing. "Please let me stay." She hesitated, then took a step closer. "I've been alone for such a long time. Please don't make me be alone tonight."
Nick watched in amazement as his hand reached for her. He hadn't meant to do that. He had wanted her to go back to her own room where she would be safe, but his hand closed around hers and all sanity fled. Gently, purposefully, he pulled her the last remaining step to the bed. Her hand touched his wrist when he reached for the ribbon around her throat, but it did not bid him cease. Instead, her fingertips caressed the sensitive flesh of his inner arm, and Nick felt his heart beat all the harder.
Her forehead touched his, their breath mingled, and his hands glided up her rib cage to close over her breast. Through the thin fabric of her gown he felt her nipples harden against his palms as he gently aroused her. Silently, he wished she would make him stop, desperately he prayed she'd let him continue. He felt her frantic heartbeat and his arms slipped around her to pull her close, wanting to reassure and comfort, needing to possess. He leaned back, and Sarah tumbled with him onto the bed.
Their lips met, desperate, hot, seeking. Then her gown was gone and the sheet pulled aside. Each gasped as flesh seared flesh.
"Let me stay with you tonight," she whispered against his throat, loving the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. "Please let me stay."
The sound of her plea raced along his skin, tantalizing, enticing, beckoning, and his need to possess her increased tenfold. "The devil himself couldn't take you from this bed tonight," he breathed against her lips. "Tonight you're mine."
The devil himself might have put me here, she thought. Then Nick's lips closed over her breast and all reasoning was gone. A fire started deep within her and its flames reached outward sensitizing every inch of her flesh. His lips tugged at her nipple even as his hand traced back to that secret place it had touched but once before.
This time there was no hesitation, and when his seeking fingers entered to caress, Sarah arched in pleasure sweeter than she had ever imagined.
Go slowly, his brain cautioned again and again.
Go slowly. But her hands were touching, her legs caressing, and when the heel of her foot journeyed up the back of his calf, Nick could wait no longer. She was tight and hot and unbelievably wonderful as her flesh resisted, then stretched to admit him. Fearing he'd crush her with his weight, his hands braced against the bed, levering his chest from hers as he pressed deeper and deeper into the heart of her. Her body closed around him. Somewhere in his brain he knew he must be hurting her, but she offered no protest and even tried to move with him. Her futile efforts were his undoing.
Sarah gasped in pain as his body invaded hers – white-hot pain that robbed her joy and obliterated her pleasure. She tried to move to relieve the pressure, but each motion only planted him deeper, and, finally, fighting tears, she bit her lip and prayed that it would soon be over.
Nick gathered her close and tried to bring her pleasure, but his own needs refused to be placed aside and, holding her tightly to his body, he lost himself within her and collapsed.
Boneless with exhaustion, Nick wondered if he'd ever find the words that might describe his feelings for her at that moment. She had given him a touch of heaven and erased the burning ache that had lodged deep within his chest. But his eyes refused to open, even though his greatest wish was to see her face. "I'm sorry . . . Sarah." His words were hot against her skin. "It w-went . . . too fast. Next time . . ."
Sarah's limp arm reached up to touch the quivering muscles of his back. "Hush," she whispered softly. "Sleep now."
Nick mumbled something against her throat, but his thoughts remained a mystery, for within seconds his deep, even breathing told her he slept.
She let her tears come then: silent tears of mourning of the loss of Agatha, bitter tears of disappointment for what they had shared. Her head ached and her body still throbbed from the turbulence of his possession. Was it possible that without the bonds of marriage there could be no pleasure, she wondered?
Gently, so as not to wake him, Sarah eased herself from beneath him. Nick mumbled again and stretched languidly, pulling the pillow close. For just a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of gazing upon his lean, muscular body – the broad back that tapered to his narrow waist, his firm buttocks, and those endless legs. Gooseflesh ran up her arms, and despite the warm night air, she shivered. Quickly, she located her discarded gown and pulled it on.
"I wish it could have been different," she whispered to his sleeping form. "For I love you with all my heart." She untangled the sheet and carefully flipped it over him. "But you don't love me, and somehow I must learn to face that fact."
Sarah rose with the sun, her aching muscles a silent reminder of the night before. Sleep had not been hers after leaving Nick, and for hours she had tossed and turned on her bed, struggling with emotions that would grant her no peace.
How could you have fallen in love with a man who only wishes carnal knowledge of you? Her mind challenged. He does care for me, her heart would reply. He's kind and gentle and he took me into his home . . . But he's never said he loves you, her conscience taunted. Well, I've never said it, either. Over and over her mind argued with her heart until Sarah could stand no more. Wearily, she dressed, knowing there was no hope of rest and that the day would be more than full. The household was just coming to life when she tiptoed down the hall, taking great satisfaction that the door to Nick's room was still closed. Instinctively, she knew he still slept and her step grew lighter.
Downstairs, Sarah went directly into the parlor where Agatha rested and reslanted the wooden blinds. She lit the candles that surrounded the casket, then, reaching over, carefully removed the netting that had draped the casket for the night. Gently she smoothed the satin blanket that covered Agatha's legs and feet.
"I'm not repentant for last night," she whispered to the still form. "I know to lie with a man outside the bonds of marriage is a sin, but I feel no remorse." Sarah looked down at her shoes. "I can't ask for forgiveness knowing the choice was mine and willingly made." Her eyes looked up to the lifeless form that rested before her. "I know how much you loved Nick. You even took me into your home to protect his reputation. But last night he needed me, we needed each other."
For a moment she stood in silence, fighting the knot of tears that lodged in her throat. "If I stay, I can only offer temptation for that which is not holy." Her soft voice quivered in pain as she gazed about the parlor with its dark blue walls and brocade draperies, then back to the coffin. "My heart will remain in Virginia, but I'll leave your grandson free to make a good marriage without a hint of scandal to mar his name." Sarah touched Agatha's cold hand in a final good-bye then slipped a small brooch into the pocket of Agatha's gown. "This is very dear to me," she whispered. "Catherine made it for me and 'tis the only thing I possess that has not come for you or Nick." Taking a shaky step, she moved back from the casket. "When I'm home and memories of this misadventure grow dim with age, know that in my heart, I shall never forget you."
The day moved slowly. Neighbors and friends began arriving hours before noon and soon the house was filled with people. Sarah busied herself helping Luther at the door, greeting those who came to offer condolences as well as those who came only for a look inside the grand Beaumont house. Food was consumed at an alarming speed, and by mid-afternoon Sarah was grateful for the abundance that had been prepared the day before. She monitored the dining room and kept Tanzy and Ruby busy with constant trips to the cookhouse.
Nick kept vigil by the parlor door doing his best to console those who had come to comfort him; families he had known since childhood, officials from Jamestown, and merchants he hadn't even realized Agatha knew. He didn't miss the looks of question directed toward Sarah, but he offered no comment. Chairs had been arranged about the room for those who wished to linger, either in prayer or in memory, but Nick kept his d
istance from those who would have wished more.
He watched Sarah move gracefully about the room, and the shadows beneath her eyes were a constant reminder of their time together and how badly he had treated her. Her virginity had stained his sheets and he hadn't even given her tenderness. His hand rubbed over his jaw in disgust. He had fallen asleep like a selfish swine, never giving a single thought to her feelings. And of all the days to sleep late . . . he stormed silently, for there had not been a private moment he might share with her since rising. Just grant me another chance, he pleaded with fate. Tonight, after everyone is gone and the house is quiet, give me the opportunity to show her how much I care.
The Reverend Jeffers launched into another mournful prayer, and Sarah wondered why the man didn't offer comfort and hope instead of taking the opportunity to preach on the miseries of hell. She ached to go and stand at Nick's side or take his hand within her own to give comfort, for the lines of strain by his mouth etched deeper with each passing hour. But thoughts of him trying to explain away the night before was something she wasn't yet ready to face.
More than a hundred strong they had followed the wagon that carried Agatha Beaumont to her final resting place. The earth had been cleared away next to her husband's grave and Nick stood in silence as the ropes were lowered and spades of dirt were passed. His eyes touched briefly on the graves or his parents, but his grief went completely to the grandmother he'd laid to rest.
The sun had long since disappeared from the sky before the trying day was over. Wearily, Nick closed the door behind the last mourner, but, despite his exhaustion, he felt a curious weight lift from his shoulders as he stretched. Pulling his stock free and unbuttoning his waistcoat, he entered the parlor to find Luther setting the last of the chairs back into place. The braces on which the casket had rested had already been removed and the room looked neat and tidy as always.
"You did a fine job today, Luther," Nick said, walking to the side bar and pouring two brandies. "Come," he extended the glass, "I think we both deserve this."
Luther hesitantly reached for the glass. "Miss Agatha, she don't fancy the staff drinking." He sniffed the amber liquid, then took a healthy swallow and sighed with appreciation. "Damn but that's good. You think Miss Agatha would mind?"
Nick downed his own, enjoying the drink's fiery path and the warmth that settled in his stomach. Reaching for the decanter, he poured them each another. "Luther, if Gran is in heaven tonight and peering over a cloud to watch what's going on . . ." He swirled the liquid in his glass then looked up at the servant. "I'd say she must be feeling damn proud of how you and Oscar and the others handled everything today."
Luther's weathered face broke into a sad grin. "Thank you, sir. But most of the credit gotta go to Miss Sarah. She was the one that kept things moving. Between greeting people in here with you and seeing to the platters in the dining room, why, I don't think she sat down once today."
Nick stretched again and set his glass back on the tray. "And just where did Miss Sarah disappear to? I haven't seen her since the minister left."
Luther savored his last swallow of the fine brandy. "Mrs. Hempsted made Tanzy take her up to bed about thirty minutes ago. Poor little thing was almost asleep on her feet." Luther replaced his own glass and picked up the tray. "If you don't need me now, Master Nick, I'll just see to these glasses."
Nick nodded. "Luther, you and the others have a good rest tomorrow. After today, you deserve it."
"Thank you, sir." Luther started for the doorway, but his step was slow.
"Is there something else?" Nick questioned.
Luther shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Master Nick, this probably isn't the time to speak of it, but we, the staff and me, we was wondering just what's gonna happen to us. We know you can't use all of us over at your house. Wadsworth would have a fit."
Nick crossed the room and placed a comforting hand on Luther's shoulder. "I haven't a clue as to what we shall do with the house yet, but you can reassure all the servants that everyone who wishes to stay will keep his employment. You served my grandmother well, and I'll not forget it."
"Thank you, sir." Relief flooded the man's face.
Nick reached over and pinched out the final candle, then followed Luther into the hall. "I'm going home tonight and I'll take Miss Sarah with me. You make sure you and the others have that rest tomorrow. I'll be back the day after with some decisions and we'll talk then."
"Thank you again, sir," Luther stammered, looking close to tears. "You want me to have Tanzy fetch Miss Sarah?"
Nick paused at the foot of the stairs. "I want you to find your bed. You look exhausted. I'll see you the day after tomorrow."
A knowing grin brightened Luther's troubled features as he watched Master Nick purposefully climb the stairs. Maybe things is gonna be all right after all he thought.
Sarah awoke to the click of the latch on her door. "Tanzy is that you?" she called wearily. "I told you I didn't want any supper."
"Good, then you'll not mind that I didn't bring any."
Sleep fled completely at the sound of Nick's voice. "What are you doing here," she gasped, siting up and pulling the covers to her chin. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and in the hazy moonlight she could see Nick's tall form standing just inside the doorway.
"I'm tired and I'm going home," he said.
She felt her pulse quicken with dread. He was going to tell her now. He'd say the words that would make the night before an absurd folly caused by the strain of Agatha's death. But Nick said nothing. He crossed the room and, taking her hand, pulled her gently from the bed.
Before Sarah could gather her wits, his lips were on hers. Stunned by the onslaught of sensations, her arms reached up to circle his neck. His tongue brushed across her own and she pressed closer still, feeling her breasts flatten against the hard muscles of his chest.
Reluctantly, Nick broke the kiss and gazed down at her. I've wanted to do that all day," he sighed against her lips. "Each time I looked up and saw you from across the room, I wanted to scream for everyone to leave so I could hold you."
Her fingers gently touched the lines at the corners of his eyes. "You need your bed." He captured her hand, placed a kiss in its palm. The sensation shot to her toes.
"That's exactly where I am going." Reaching behind her, he tugged a blanket from the bed, then flipped it around her shoulders like a cape.
"What are you doing?" she gasped as he scooped her into his arms and opened the door.
"I told you, I'm going home."
"But . . ."
Nick stopped at the top of the stairs, his eyes dark and intense as he gazed down at her. "I'm going home, and your place is with me."
He hesitated for the briefest moment, and Sarah knew she was being given a choice. It would take only one word and she would be back in her solitary bed to spend the night alone. But her needs were too great to do what she thought was right, and as her arms crept up to encircle his neck, her body snuggled closer to the warmth of his chest. "Take me home, Nick," she whispered, and both knew she wasn't referring to Salem.
He had held her close to his side during the ride home, urging the horses to maintain a fast clip as the stars winked down on them in the open carriage. The cool night air tugged at her hair and touched her hot cheeks, yet did nothing to extinguish the flames that burned beneath her skin. Her anticipation heightened, but with it came uncertainty.
Sarah could only stare in wonder when Nick placed her gently in the center of his bed. His eyes fixed on hers as he shed his coat and waistcoat then tugged his white shirt over his head to join the growing pile on the floor. The bed dipped with his weight as shoes and stockings were pulled off, and still his gaze held hers captive.
Hesitantly, Sarah reached out and let her fingers trace down the lean muscles of his side. His flesh jumped, his eyes darkened, and a heady satisfaction seeped into her nervous limbs. But when he rose and his hands moved to the buttons on his breeches, Sarah jerked to a s
itting position and tore her eyes from his as she reached to extinguish the single candle.
Nick caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. "I didn't see you last night." His words sent shivers up her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Tonight I want to see you." He watched color flare in her cheeks and again was touched by her innocence.
Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the tremors that flowed from her fingers as he held her hand within his own and silently he cursed himself for blundering the night before. His thumb rubbed gently over her palm, needing to soothe, then skimmed inside the sleeve of her gown, needing to excite.
Sarah felt her bones turn to water as his fingertips worked their magic. They traced up her arms then paused to pull her hair free from the blanket. His hands slid into her hair, and when he inched her closer she melted against him like winter snow in a spring thaw. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm on her throat. "And you belong to me."
Sarah's heart soared with the sound of his words. He loved her! His hand palmed the back of her head, bringing her slowly closer for his kiss, and in that simple gesture came more sweetness than she could ever have imagined. Her heart sang, he loves me, and her soul filled with joy. She twisted off the bed, shedding the blanket and her caution in the process. Hitching her nightrail past her knees, she straddled Nick's lap, startling them both with her boldness. For Sarah, her newfound joy could not be contained, and when the heat in Nick's eyes grew brighter, she let her arms rest on his shoulders as her bare legs encircled his hips.
"I wanted to touch you so badly today," she whispered, as her fingers toyed with the hair at the back of his neck.
Nick slid his hands about her waist and pulled her closer still, wondering what had caused the sudden transformation. "It's a good thing you didn't or I might have taken you right there on the floor."
Her hands gently touched the lines of strain that still lingered at the corners of his mouth. "You looked so sad and I desperately wanted to make you smile again."
He felt his heartbeat quicken. "What would you have done?"
Her violet eyes paused in thought, then sparkled as her imagination took hold. Her lips hovered a breath from his. "I would have smoothed away the heartache." Her voice was husky with passion as the tip of her tongue reached out to trace the faint lines at the corners of his mouth.
He struggled to let her maintain the pace, for he could feel the joy that radiated from her, even as his own body screamed for release. "Is that all?" he demanded. "Would you tempt me and then offer no sustenance?" His gaze dropped to the rounded peaks of her breast pressing against her gown.
Looking up, he again watched her cheeks bloom with color. His palms rested on her bare thighs and she offered no protest when they slid slowly up and around the curve of her hip to her ribs, taking the gown with it. Their eyes met in question and he felt her breath lock in her chest as she reached down between them, then pulled the gown over her head.
Completely naked, Sarah sat as one made of stone, astonished she could display herself so wantonly before him. He loves you, her heart counseled gently, and although she could feel her flesh grow hot from his gaze, she made no move to cover herself. Let him find me pleasing, she wished silently. Let me share my love with him.
Nick reached for the gift she offered, and his hands gently covered her. Her eyes grew misty as he caressed her flesh, molding and stroking. And when he leaned forward to capture her nipple with his lips, he felt her arch closer and his sanity fled.
Sarah flopped back over his arm as Nick suckled at her breast. The gentle tug of his lips sent circles of rapture rippling through her, and when he drank deeper, she felt she might die from the pleasure of it. Ecstasy filler her, surrounding her with soft cries of delight until she floated in a sea of warmth.
Nick watched her struggle to open her eyes and her smile sent arrows of passion straight to his heart. Holding her close, he tumbled backward with her, luxuriating in the soft curtain of hair that fell about his neck and face. Her skin was flushed, her eyes filled with promise, and Nick could wait no more. Within the blink of an eye she was beneath him. His knee pressed high at the juncture of her thighs, and tenderly he gathered her close.
"It won't hurt this time," he promised, caressing her gently, arousing her pliant flesh.
Sarah pressed kisses along his shoulder and jaw. "It wouldn't matter if it did."
His lips met hers, open, wet, and wonderful. He tasted of power and sorrow and she drank it all. She gasped when she felt him enter, but her flesh was ready and her heart accepted him. Willingly she surrounded him with her love.
Nick sank into her and felt he had surely died and reached heaven. Her velvety muscles sheathed and caressed him and her quiet sigh of acceptance sent him soaring. Moving gently, he wedged his hand between them, then watched her through hazy eyes as her body arched in triumph and she reached the stars.
Sarah shuddered in the aftermath of passion. She hadn't been prepared for the intensity of his love. Never had she felt so cherished. Her eyes met his, then grew wide as she realized he still rested within her.
Nick laughed at her stunned expression and rocked her close.
"I thought it was over," she whispered as if sharing some great secret, then blushed bewitchingly. "I don't really have much experience with this sort of thing."
He flexed his body and watched her eyes glaze over. "I wouldn’t think so," he teased. "But if you're tired, we could always stop."
Fearful he'd do just that, Sarah shifted and locked her legs around his waist. "I'm not tired at all," she said, her voice shivering with pleasure.
Nick's breath caught in his throat as her muscles gripped him tighter and then he was moving with her in the motion older than time itself. Higher and higher he took her until her cry of release triggered his own.
Reluctant to move but fearing he would crush her, Nick rolled to his back taking her with him. She felt so fragile. Her head rested on his shoulder, her arm draped limply across his chest, and their legs entwined. His mind spun about in all directions trying to decide which thought to follow first, but reasoning was hard to find with her flesh still quivering against him. He hadn't known a woman could make him weak. And the realization did not sit easy. She shivered, and he untangled the sheet to cover them.
Sarah snuggled closer. Nick had wrapped her in love so soft and compelling, that her eyes refused to open. She felt his hands gently rub her back, and it seemed perfectly reasonable to spend the rest of her life in his arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized he had yet to say the actual words, but her heart was too content to care.
Nick knew by her even breathing that she slept, and his arms tightened instinctively. How was it that she was so different? He wondered. He had had his share of ladies, but none had touched his heart like Sarah. She had given joy as well as passion, and his body still ached in want of her. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head and considered waking her with kisses, but remained content to simply hold her. You've brought peace to my life, he thought. How am I ever going to be able to face the day when you are gone?