The Golden Valkyrie

  “You’re welcome,” he said with equal politeness. There was a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked up again. “I love that grave-little-girl air you have sometimes. It’s such a contrast to all this lush pulchritude that it blows my mind.”

  His hand resumed that slow, arousing kneading motion, and Honey felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach that was rapidly escalating into an aching need. “I don’t think this is very wise,” she said breathlessly as his teeth nibbled with erotic delicacy at the taut nipple.

  “I do,” he replied thickly. “I think it’s the wisest thing I’ve done since I met you. I had to be crazy not to do it before. We both know we’ve been wanting it since the moment we met. Isn’t that true, Honey?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she said quietly. It was all so clear now that she’d accepted that simple truth. She had never wanted anyone in her life before this red-haired Scaramouche had appeared on her horizon, but she knew now that she must have realized even that first evening that they would eventually reach this point of no return.

  He drew a long, deep breath and gave her a smile of such loving sweetness that she felt her throat tighten with emotion. “You won’t regret it, love. I’ll pleasure you, I promise.”

  “I know you will,” she said tenderly. Everything that he was and did pleasured her. She knew now that he always would. “I hope I can please you, too.”

  “Good Lord, how could you help it?” His other hand reached up to cup her other breast. “Just looking at you is enough to make me lose control.” One thumb raked the proud, hard peak that crested the voluptuous fullness of her breast, and a shiver of pure desire shot through her. His hand moved down to the softness of her belly and traced a delicate pattern on its silken smoothness. “You’re like a lovely blank canvas just waiting for the first brushstroke to bring you to life.” His lips moved swiftly down her midriff, dropping a trail of light kisses along the way. His teeth bit teasingly at the softness of her belly, and she inhaled sharply. “I want to paint you with the scarlet of passion.” He gently parted her thighs. “I want to shade you with the gold of fulfillment.” His hands were probing at the warm center of her being, and she made a sound that was half gasp at the incredible sensations that he was producing. He looked up and smiled with tender satisfaction. “And when you sleep in my arms afterward, I want you to be glowing with the dark rose of contentment.” His hand moved with deft erotic expertise, shooting a jolt of hot, tingling pleasure to the heart of her. “Will you let me paint you with all the colors of loving, Honey?”

  “Oh yes,” she gasped. She felt as if she were already stroked with flames. “Yes, Lance, please.”

  He moved over her, parting her thighs and coming swiftly between them. Leaning down, he kissed her with a hot, lingering sweetness. “I don’t think I can wait any longer, sweetheart,” he muttered roughly, his chest moving raggedly. “It seems I’ve been waiting forever for you already.”

  “Then don’t wait any longer,” she whispered, her lips parting as she drew his mouth back to hers. His tongue entered into the moist sweetness, and he made a sound in the back of his throat as her tongue responded with a wild sensuality that she’d never felt before.

  His hips thrust quickly forward, and her sudden cry was lost beneath his lips. He raised his head, his body stiffening in surprise. His face was a mask of shock as he looked down at her. “Honey?” he asked dazedly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered feverishly, her hands clutching fiercely at his shoulders. The sensation was indescribable, she felt both gloriously, tantalizingly full and achingly incomplete. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Oh, Lord, I don’t think I can,” he said thickly, his hips starting a rhythmic thrusting that sent an explosive heat rocketing through her. She writhed in an agony of molten need as he lifted her hips in his hands, drawing her closer to him with each movement.

  The rainbow spectrum of hues that he’d promised her was all there as he moved with her, encouraging her with words of need and praise that he gasped in her ear in a litany of passionate longing. But he hadn’t told her of the incredible sunburst of sensation that would result with the fusion of those colors.

  When they were lying clutching each other dazedly in the exhaustion that was the aftermath of that multi-hued storm, she tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder. Her hand resting below his heart drawing comfort from the strong, rapid beat that was gradually slowing. “You left out quite a bit, you know,” she said dreamily. “You never mentioned the deep crimson of giving and this lovely lavender-mauve weariness.”

  His lips brushed her temple tenderly. “I discovered quite a few new shades myself,” he said huskily, his hand stroking her hair gently. “Some of them I never even dreamed existed. You’re quite an artist yourself, Honey Winston.” His hand paused a moment in its stroking, and his voice was oddly troubled. “You shocked the hell out of me, you know.”

  “I know,” she said wryly. “My friend Nancy assured me I was the last twenty-four-year-old virgin left on the face of the earth. I was a little afraid I would disappoint you.” She raised her head to look up at him uncertainly. “Was I all right?”

  His lips swooped down to kiss her with a gentleness that caused her throat to tighten with an aching tenderness. “Lord, you were fantastic, love,” he said, his voice suspiciously husky. “I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. It was as if every part of you was holding me, loving me. I couldn’t believe my luck.”

  “Neither could I,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling impishly. “It’s not every woman who’s initiated into the intricacies of sex by such a notable practitioner as Lusty Lance. I should consider myself almost unique. I’m sure you don’t usually waste that expertise on such unsophisticated quarry.”

  His brow wrinkled in a frown. “That’s not amusing,” he said curtly. “I told you that what we have is different. Now, be quiet and come here.” He pressed her head back into the hollow of his shoulder, his arms tightening around her. “Did I ever tell you that I hate that Lusty Lance epithet?”

  “No,” she answered, nestling even closer. “Did I tell you that I think my own name is perfectly ghastly?”

  “I believe you did mention something about it,” he said, winding a lock of her hair around his finger. “I like it. It’s as if I’m murmuring a love word every time I say it.” His lips brushed lightly over her lids. “Honey sweet.” His lips traveled to the lobe of her ear and nibbled delicately. “Honey soft.” His lips moved to her mouth and his tongue entered to joust with her own in eager play. When their lips parted, he drew a shuddering breath. “Honey hot. I think I want to paint another picture.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “So soon?”

  He chuckled. “Couldn’t you tell by the number of canvases in my studio?” he asked softly. “I’m very prolific.” One hand closed on her breast, his nail raking lightly over the nipple, sending a shiver of heat through her. “And I’m finding you a source of constant inspiration.”

  Honey found that she, too, was feeling more inspired by the moment, as his lips traveled down to her breast and his tongue flicked deliciously at the taut pink tip. “You’re so damn beautiful, I want to really paint you, just as you are right now. Will you pose for me, Honey?”

  She felt a sharp pain surge through her as she remembered what Alex had said about Lance’s dislike of painting anyone with whom he was personally involved. Evidently she didn’t fall into that category. Well, what could she expect? Lance had never pretended that he felt any lasting attachment for her. She must be satisfied with what he had to give.

  “Why not?” she asked flippantly. “I can hardly complain about your making me notorious. You must have the most private collection of paintings in the entire world.”

  He started to say something, but she swiftly put her hand over his lips, silencing him. “On one condition.”

  He kissed her palm lingeringly before removing her hand from his lips. “And th
at is?”

  Her hands reached up to draw his glossy, flame-like head back to her breast. “I find that I’m developing a few artistic tendencies myself,” she said lightly. “I want to paint my own picture. Will you teach me how to do it?”

  “Oh, yes, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his blue eyes flickering. His teeth nibbled at one eager nipple. “First, you have to prepare the canvas.”

  And the lesson commenced.

  It was late afternoon when she awoke, and the glowing rays of the sun were slanting through the window, softening the austerity of the room.

  Honey stretched luxuriously, feeling delightfully lazy as she cast the denim coverlet aside. She felt a twinge of disappointment that Lance had left without waking her, but she firmly squashed the feeling. He was probably back in the studio again. She mustn’t expect to compete with the pull of that particular mistress, though she had every intention of making herself a worthy adversary of any other possible rivals.

  She showered quickly and washed her hair, grumbling at her shortsightedness in not bringing a blow dryer. Exposed to the salt air, her long hair would need continual care and frequent washing. Oh, well, she would just have to go outside and hope the sun would dry it before nightfall.

  She slipped on a pair of navy-blue tailored shorts and a pale-blue tailored blouse, tying the tails carelessly under her breasts. She didn’t bother with shoes, and when she left the cottage, the sand was a delicious cushion beneath her bare feet. The tide was coming in, and the surf licked at her toes as she strolled briskly along the shore, her hands combing through her hair occasionally, while the soft, gentle wind obligingly dried it.

  It was almost sunset, and Honey paused for a moment to gaze with breathless admiration at the scarlet and violet glory that was reflected mirror-like in the placid sea.

  “It’s a magnificent picture, but I like the ones we paint together more.”

  She whirled to face Lance, an eager smile lighting her face. “So do I,” she said softly. “I think we get the colors better.”

  Bathed in the rosy sunset glow, his skin took on a golden patina, and his hair glowed like a flame above the sapphire eyes. He was barefoot, too, she noticed, and he hadn’t bothered to tuck the tail of his white shirt into his jeans, nor to button it.

  “I thought you’d gone back to the studio,” she said.

  He shook his head, his face surprisingly grave. “I went for a long walk. I had some thinking to do.”

  She moved closer. “I’m glad you haven’t gone back to work yet,” she murmured, smiling at him beguilingly. “I was wondering if I could seduce you into giving me another lesson.”

  “The key word being ‘seduce,’ of course,” he said, a flame beginning to flicker in the depths of his eyes. “What a delightfully insatiable wench you’ve become, Honey. Any more practice and you’ll be giving me lessons.”

  She took a step nearer him, until her breasts were pressing against the bare hardness of his chest. “You didn’t object this afternoon,” she observed with a grin.

  “No, I didn’t, did I?” he asked thickly. “I couldn’t get enough of you. I was even tempted to wake you before I left and love you again.”

  “Why didn’t you?” she asked, her arms sliding up his chest and around his neck, her fingers curling in the crisp hair at its nape. Her lips brushed his chin, and he inhaled sharply.

  Then he was jerking her arms from around his neck and thrusting her forcefully away from him. “Damn it, Honey, stay away from me,” he said sharply. “This is difficult enough for me.”

  She gazed up at him in hurt bewilderment. “What’s the matter?” she asked huskily, her blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She’d thought he’d been joking before about her aggressiveness, but perhaps there had been an element of sincerity beneath the raillery. She backed slowly away from him, her lashes lowered to veil the pain that the thought brought. “You’ll have to forgive me,” she said brightly, smiling with an effort. “I’m a little new at this. You’ll have to let me know what’s bad form and what isn’t.”

  “Oh, Lord, now I’ve hurt you,” he groaned, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s not like that. I’m not rejecting you, damn it.”

  “It sounds remarkably like it,” she said, still not looking at him. “But you needn’t apologize, Lance, I understand perfectly.”

  He took an impulsive step forward, reaching out for her. Then he stopped abruptly, and his hands fell to his sides. “Honey, you’re driving me crazy,” he said in an exasperated tone. “You know that I can scarcely keep my hands off of you. I proved that this afternoon. You’re the most warmly responsive woman I’ve ever known. I’d be the last one ever to discourage you from spreading a little of that warmth in my direction.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” she asked, her violet eyes lifting in puzzlement to meet his own. “If you want me, and I want you…”

  “It’s not that simple,” he said, scowling. “You were a virgin.”

  Her mouth fell open in surprise. “After today, I think it’s a little late to worry about that,” she said dryly. “It certainly didn’t appear to bother you too much earlier.”

  “Look, I know I acted like a selfish bastard,” he said, frowning. “I guess I went a little crazy. You go to my head, love.” He threw out his arms in frustration. “I never dreamed you weren’t experienced. I thought you’d be on the pill.”

  “The pill?” she asked dazedly. “Is that what this is all about? You’re worried about my getting pregnant?” She suddenly started to laugh, her face alight with amusement.

  His scowl grew darker. “I’m glad you’re finding it so damn funny,” he said indignantly. “We’re on an island, remember? I could call the mainland to have something flown in, but Alex and others might find out. I thought that would embarrass you. I was foolishly trying to protect you.”

  She shook her head, her lips curved in a tender smile. “I’m the one who is supposed to be protecting you,” she reminded him gently. “Don’t worry, Lance. I’m not.”

  “That’s because you’re so naive,” he said roughly. “You should be worried, damn it. Why the hell aren’t you?”

  Because the thought of a little redheaded Scaramouche with sapphire eyes filled her with an aching yearning. Because a part of him would be better than nothing at all. Because she would love this complicated, quicksilver boy-man all the days of her life.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. There’s no use worrying about something that may never happen.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “We’ll be here another few weeks, and I’ll be darned if I’ll live like a nun, now that I know what I’m missing.” Then, as she saw the endearingly troubled expression on his face, she said gently, “I’m not fooling myself that this will be forever, Lance. Whatever happens, I won’t hold you responsible. I waited twenty-four years for my first affair, and I fully expect to enjoy every minute of it.”

  “How very generous of you,” he said, his lips tight, and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of hurt in the depths of his eyes. “As ephemeral as you consider our affair to be, I still regard myself as being a little more than a ship that passes in the night. I think a portion of that decision rests with me.”

  “But you’ve already admitted that you have ambivalent feelings on that score,” she said demurely, peering up at him through her lashes. She moistened her lips delicately with the tip of her tongue, knowing he was watching her compulsively. “I, however, am entirely determined and singleminded about the subject.”

  “Honey,” he said warningly.

  “I want to paint another picture, Lance,” she said coaxingly, taking a step forward.

  He took an involuntary step backward. “No, damn it. Not until I can take care of you.”

  “You always take care of me,” she said softly, taking another step forward. “I’ve never felt so beautifully cosseted in my life as when I’m in your arms, Lance.”

  “God, I hoped you felt like that,
Honey,” he said huskily. “You’re so sweet to love that it takes my breath away. I wanted you to feel like the treasure that you are.”

  Her hands went to the buttons on her blouse and began slowly to unfasten them. “Treasures are always more precious when they’re used,” she said softly. “Did you ever see how ugly and tarnished silver becomes when it’s left in the cabinet? Don’t leave me on the shelf, Lance.” She shrugged out of the blouse and dropped it carelessly on the sand.

  Lance’s eyes were fixed on her breasts as her hands went to the front closure of her bra. “Where’s the woman who was too modest to wear a bikini?” he asked wryly, moistening his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.

  “The sun’s gone down now, and you did invite me to go skinny-dipping with you.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s what you have in mind,” he said dryly.

  She winked at him impishly. “Well, there are dips.” She slipped out of the bra. “And then there are dips.”

  He drew a deep, ragged breath. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely, his eyes on the full mounds with their taut pink rosettes. “You’re making it very hard for me, love.”

  “That’s the purpose of the entire exercise,” she said, her lips quirking. She took a step closer to him. “Now, don’t you think it’s time that I had another lesson in the subtle nuances of color coordination?”

  “Don’t do this, Honey,” he grated out, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I’m trying to do what’s right, for once in my life.” His eyes were fastened on one pink tantalizing nipple, and unconsciously he licked his lips again. “I can’t stand much more of this. If you don’t get away from me, so help me, I’ll rape you.”

  She took another step closer until her bare breasts were brushing against his warm chest. “So rape me; I’ll help you,” she said flippantly, her violet eyes dancing mischievously. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him with loving sweetness. “Love me, Lance.”

  He made a sound that was almost a guttural groan of hunger, deep in his throat, and his arms crushed her to him. His tongue entered to stroke with a savage desire that took her breath away. He drew her down to the sand, so that they were kneeling face to face, while his hands moved feverishly over the smooth silken line of her back. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Honey,” he muttered, as he pressed burning kisses over her face and throat. “You’ve made damn sure that I don’t.”