Tonight or Never

  Rubbing his scalp, he stretched out on his back next to her.

  Some lamb. She had almost scalped him! He rubbed the side of his head again, this time continuing around the back of his head to feel the condition of the bump there. It had gone down quite a bit and wasn't nearly so sore any—

  Whap!

  The back of Chloe's hand was flung right into his eye.

  He remained perfectly still until the agony subsided.

  At which point he methodically lifted the small wrist with his thumb and forefinger; placing her hand down on the mattress between them.

  Then he let loose. He was aching in so many places, he lost track of the count; the one below his waist was by far the worst. All of them, however, were caused by his turtledove.

  "Dammit!" Already he could feel his eye swelling.

  Instead of waking up, the hellcat turned cozily on her side away from him and snuggled back into his warmth. John's nostrils flared.

  We're going to nap? Fine, if that was what she wanted; but he was not going to give her the chance to mutilate him again.

  He turned on his side, moving in as close to her as he could get. Wrapping his legs around her, he tightly embraced her with his arms as well until he had the darling cocooned.

  There. That should keep him safe.

  Using her shoulder as a chin rest, he soon fell asleep.

  He awoke to her thrashing. "John, let me loose! I can't move!"

  "That is the idea," he drawled, half-asleep.

  "What do you mean?" She squirmed about. He released his hold, yawning. Chloe flipped over, facing him. "Why did you—What happened to your eye?" She gasped. "It's all black and blue."

  He stared at her stonily.

  Her fingers tentatively felt around his cheekbone, examining the area. The tender concern on her face was evident. "How did you do this?"

  "You…" He paused, noting her genuine distress over the injury. Gallantly, he replied, "I walked into a door."

  "You should be more careful, John!" She bit her lip as she cupped her palm over the sore spot. "You have to pay attention to what you're doing."

  If he paid any more attention, he would have been coldcocked.

  He gave her a crooked smile. "I have a good excuse; I was thinking of you, sweet."

  She paused in her action to view him. "You were?"

  "Mmm hmm." He took her hand from his face to kiss the center of her palm. His hot tongue swept a circle.

  Chloe felt his swirling actions down to her toes. "Wh-what were you thinking?" She raised her mouth in invitation.

  "I was remembering what you tasted like." His mouth claimed hers in a heated press. Once more he brought her tight within his embrace. This time she squirmed in pleasure.

  "Remembering what you felt like…" His hands skimmed down her body, molding her to him.

  "And you didn't see the door?" She kissed him before he could answer.

  He cupped her buttocks, rubbing her right against his member. The thin cotton did nothing to disguise how erect he was.

  "I didn't even feel it, Chloe-cat."

  She purred at that report.

  John lifted the shift over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. Under the circumstances, he thought he would be forgiven his embellishment of the tale. Especially since his motives were purely altruistic.

  Or as altruistic as a rake's motives were likely to get.

  Chapter Eight

  A Curious Coincidence

  They never made it down to dinner that evening.

  The countess had thoughtfully sent up a cold collation to their suite.

  Chloe smiled when she spotted the sprig of rosemary her grandmother had placed on the tray. Rosemary was a symbol of friendship, love, and faithfulness. Traditionally it was used in weddings, but it also gave one support to see things through.

  Her grandmother was sending her a secret message to stay the course, for the prize was well worth the effort.

  So, Grandmere knew. And she stood behind her granddaughter's choice. In that moment, Chloe had never loved her grandmother more.

  Noticing her pensive expression, John lifted her chin with his finger. "What is it?"

  "Nothing." Smiling tremulously at him, she stood on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the lips. His arm came around her waist and he deepened the kiss. They had just made love for hours, yet he still indulged in the experience of her.

  Reluctantly Chloe broke away. "I should like to bathe before we dine, John. Would you mind waiting?"

  "Not at all. In fact, I'll tell them to bring up some extra water; we're bound to need more," he said with a comical leer.

  True. The man never seemed to stop making love to her. Not that she was complaining. Although Chloe had no way of judging the meaning behind his energetic behavior, all in all she deemed it an encouraging sign. Besides which, he made her knees weak. One steaming flash of those emerald eyes from under those spiky, black lashes of his and she was ready to be dished out like a side of mutton. Never in her life had she experienced such pleasure!

  Already John had more than demonstrated his special expertise.

  It was not so much what he did—indeed, they were only beginning to explore that realm—it was how he went about it. There was something altogether sensual about John. He had the ability to immerse himself completely in the feeling of the moment.

  Remembering the way he had touched her, and moved within her, she already wanted him again. She loved the way he felt inside her; strong yet gentle, in control yet willing to be piloted.

  He was right—they were going to need more water.

  Chloe nodded her head in agreement with his statement. "Why don't you just tell them to bring up a trough of hot water?" she stated seriously.

  John threw back his head and roared with laughter. "It crossed my mind."

  As soon as the tub was filled, Chloe gratefully sank down into the steaming water. Muscles she didn't even know she had were aching—but it was a good ache.

  "Ahh, this feels wonderful." She rested back against the rim.

  "Would you like me to help you?"

  "Help me what?"

  "Bathe." He watched her with a heavy-lidded expression indicative of a man who had discovered a treasure that suddenly belonged to him.

  Chloe wasn't sure she trusted that look.

  "Really, John, how could you help me bathe?"

  Her wary response amused him. "Like this…"

  He picked up the bar of scented soap she had left by the tub. Bringing it to his face, he took a deep inhalation of the flowery, light scent. It matched the perfume she wore, and he particularly loved that scent.

  Whenever he caught the aroma of that fragrance now, it brought back to mind what it had felt like to be inside of her that first time. What it felt like every time…

  "Are you just going to stand there smelling my soap all night, or are you going to show me what you meant?" she quipped from the tub.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. "Patience, Chloe. I'm getting to it."

  Kneeling next to her, he wet the soap, working up a good lather between his palms. Chloe closed her eyes as she waited for him to proceed. He was taking his own sweet time to—

  His large, soapy hands began washing her shoulders and chest, paying careful attention to her breasts. Chloe could feel his tapered fingers lightly skimming around her aureole while he soaped and rinsed.

  "Ahhh…"

  "Like that, do you?"

  Eyes still closed, she asked, "How can you tell?"

  Two fingers slid across her breast, catching the pebble hard nub in a scissors grip. He tweaked.

  Chloe sat straight up in the water. "John!"

  He chuckled. "Easy, sweet; I'm not nearly finished."

  That was what she was afraid of.

  Continuing his job of cleansing, he smoothed his soapy hands down to her waist and around the curve of her hips. Stopping to relather, he washed each leg from the top of her thigh to her toes.

&nb
sp; "You have beautiful legs, Chloe." His voice had gone husky of a sudden. Seductive.

  "I do?" She held one dainty foot up in the air to see what it was he found so fascinating. Seemed like an ordinary leg to her. She shrugged. Whatever it was that had beguiled him had made his voice drop a register. At times, men were quite peculiar.

  "Your legs are much nicer, John." She examined the muscular line of his legs from his thigh to his calves. They looked very strong. "I wager you could ride all day without tiring."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. Two laugh lines curved his cheeks as he grinned, shaking his head. "Chloe-monkey, you are definitely unique."

  "Why is that?" She looked at him, perplexed.

  "Never mind." He kissed the tip of her nose.

  "Oh." Her violet eyes rounded as both the double meaning behind her innocent remark and his soapy hand at the juncture of her thighs came to her at once.

  A deep dimple indented his face. "Mmm-hmm." His finger wiggled playfully between her nether lips.

  Chloe was mortified. "John, don't!"

  "I'm just washing you, sweet." He gave her an innocent look that failed to pass muster.

  She grabbed his wrist. "No, you are not. You're playing and I won't have it!"

  "Won't have what?" he asked suggestively, continuing to tease her with his hand.

  She pursed her lips. "Very well, but just remember—I intend to return the favor, and I will be washing you next—so be careful what you do, for it will be returned to you tenfold."

  He grinned outright. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

  Chloe threw a wet rag at him, which he neatly fielded.

  Dropping his voice to an intimate tone, he leaned closer to her. "Let me give you a clue. When you want to threaten someone, 'tis necessary to use something they would not welcome wholeheartedly." He roared with laughter at the surprised pout on her face.

  "That is it! I am finished bathing." She stood up in the water, dripping wet. John's gaze traveled the length of her, a spark of desire lighting them.

  "Let me wipe you off."

  Before she could refuse, he wrapped her in a linen sheet, his hands guiding the material to the especially damp spots.

  "Enough of that!" She pulled away from him, reaching for a bucket of hot water. "Your turn."

  He backed up. "You aren't going to toss that on me, are you, sweet?"

  "Of course not. It is for the tub." She smiled benignly at him.

  Cautiously, while keeping a watch on her, he stepped into the tub. Fitting his tall frame in the cramped confines, he sat. "Now, what about that—"

  Splash!

  He waited until the water sluiced off his face. Then he reached for her.

  Chloe was laughing and squealing at the same time. "No! Don't you dare!"

  "I forgot to wash your hair… now come here, my lady." He yanked her into the tub with him, pulling her across his lap.

  "John, don't get me wet again!"

  His white teeth flashed in a roguish grin. "Surely you don't mean that, Carrot."

  Chloe blushed as red as her hair. "Mon Dieu! You are really too terrible!"

  He blinked guilelessly. "Me? Terrible? Surely not!" The linen sheet covering her was yanked from her body and tossed over his shoulder to land on the carpet behind him.

  "Now I am angry! I want to get something to eat and—"

  Splash!

  She waited for the water to sluice off her face. Tendrils of dripping hair streamed down her back.

  "For that, you will pay!" She quickly grabbed the bar of scented soap and attacked him with it. Wielding it like a small weapon, she proceeded to lather him everywhere at once, leaving trails of bubbles in her wake.

  John was laughing too hard to stop her. Even if he did smell like a bouquet of spring flowers.

  She even laid siege to his head, soaping until his hair stood on end.

  "There! Now you will think twice before—" She stopped to survey her creation. John had a soap cap, a soap beard, and soap breasts. Chloe's hand covered her mouth.

  He batted his eyelashes at her.

  She broke out in peals of laughter.

  John chuckled with her. Capturing her chin with a soapy finger, he brought her mouth to his for a moist kiss. At the same time, his other hand massaged the back of her head.

  Or so it seemed.

  When he released her, he leaned back to view his own handiwork. Chloe sported a foam cha-peau. "Would you like a feather for your new hat, dearest?"

  She stuck her pink tongue out at him.

  His strong fingers wove through her wet hair, pulling her close to him. "I dare you to do that again," he whispered against her mouth.

  She did.

  He captured the pink tongue with his teeth.

  "Weleeze me!"

  "Uuug uug."

  Neither could speak clearly; however, both understood the other.

  "Yohn!"

  He snickered. "One conditin."

  "Wha?"

  "You finiss wassin me."

  "All wight." She readily agreed.

  He let go of her and rested back against the rim of the tub, spreading his arms. "I'm all yours, Lady Sexton."

  She threw him a look that said You'll be sorry.

  Taking the soap once more in hand, she preceded to lather up his chest, making wide, circular sweeping motions. She continued down his torso to the plane of his flat stomach.

  Something brushed the edge of her hand.

  Chloe looked down. Instead of cooling him off as she had intended, the brisk, no-nonsense motions appeared to be stimulating him. The head of his manhood broke the surface of the water, bobbing like a great underworld creature coming up for air.

  Her mouth dropped open. " 'Tis a sea serpent!" She gasped in false terror.

  John roared in laughter.

  "I shall have to harpoon it!"

  All laughter was cut off midchuckle. He sat bolt upright. "Don't even think it."

  Chloe gave him a sly look as she rinsed off her hair. "Then I suppose I'm finished washing you?"

  "I would say so, madam."

  Chloe quickly stepped out of the tub and began drying off. Lord Sexton was very playful; however, Lady Sexton was very hungry.

  John dunked his head under the water to cleanse it of soap. When he came up for air, he shook his head, flinging the water off, reminding Chloe of a pup after a bath.

  She smiled softly. For all his sophistication, John had a lot of charmingly boyish traits.

  They decided to eat their meal sitting on the carpet before the fireplace, even though no fire burned. It was a warm night for the time of year, and John had opened the French doors to the balcony, letting a gentle breeze into the room.

  Both of them were wrapped in linen sheeting. Chloe had twisted a sheet around her hair like a turban. John teased her about being a sultan and he, the love slave.

  Chloe snorted. "Do not attempt to pretend to be a woman's slave, Lord Sexton; it is simply not believable."

  "Really," he intoned enigmatically.

  She quickly yanked the turban off; he had a glint in his eye and there was no telling where that lively imagination was headed.

  The spring breeze, redolent of fresh, blooming flowers, wafted about them as they ate.

  John fed her little bits of cold roast beef, a potato-vegetable salad, and Spanish olives, sharing the same plate with her. For dessert, he tempted her with morsels of gingerbread and a spicy punch to wash it down.

  By the time they finished eating, their hair was dry. It was late into the night; all the candles she had lit earlier had burned down to a soft glow.

  John stood, offering her a hand up.

  When she stood before him, he reached toward her and slowly removed the linen sheet she had wrapped around herself. He dropped it to the floor along with his own.

  Thereupon, he swiftly picked her up in his arms and carried her, not to the bed as she had expected, but out onto the balcony.

  "John!" Chloe pro
tested, wriggling in his arms. They were stark naked!

  He ignored her thrashing, carrying her over to the edge. "Look, Chloe; it's a full moon."

  "Someone will see us! We can't—"

  "No, they won't; it's late and this balcony overlooks the private gardens below. We are perfectly fine. Isn't it beautiful?"

  Still unsure of being on a balcony, any balcony, without her clothes on, Chloe reluctantly viewed the scene before her.

  Nightfall had brought with it a serene, lush splendor painted in shades of black and white, its tranquillity broken only by the occasional hooting of a white owl in a nearby tree.

  Moonlight filtered down from above, silvering the gardens beneath them. In the distance, the light shimmered across the pond in ripples, silhouetting the pine trees in the forest beyond.

  There was an enchantment to the night.

  The air around them, sweet-smelling, seemed to beckon, as it mingled with the garden plantings bursting into bloom this early spring. The complete serenity made her ache inside with a feeling of gratitude that she was alive on this night, in this man's arms.

  The flawless scene was a dreamscape come to life.

  "Chacun à Son Goût." She whispered the name of the beloved estate, awed by its magnificence. The ancestral estate of the Heart family that she had entrusted, along with herself, to John.

  "My Garden of Eden," he said, bending his head to kiss her passionately. "You've given me a treasure, Chloe." He wasn't just speaking of the estate and they both knew it.

  She put her arm around his neck, bringing him back down to her. "It was mine to give."

  Moved, John moaned deep in his throat as his mouth took her. Always when he kissed her it happened—

  That something kicked in his chest.

  He felt like a man starving for air, while tasting euphoria at the same time. It was an enigma to him—he wanted her more and more. Each time he kissed her, he had to kiss her again. Each time he entered…

  The precise recall of intimacy caused John to elicit his desire; a gravelly, purring declaration of pure sexuality.

  Chloe responded to his sensual murmur; it was a part of John that spoke to her, a side of him she intuitively knew she alone could reach. Not just reach. Intensify and ignite.