Perhaps there was hope for happiness after all-at least at night, after the sun went down, when he could forget about real life for a while. Maybe she was meant to be his oasis.
She looked him straight in the eye as she stroked him with her warm, proficient hand, and the pleasure mounting in his loins compelled him to set a hand on the bed to keep from staggering sideways.
"Where did we leave off last time?" he asked, wanting to get down to business.
"Jess had not yet taken Lydie's virginity."
"Then perhaps we might skip ahead a few pages," he suggested, taking her into his arms so that she had to remove her hand from his pants. She grabbed on to his shoulders and he swept her up off her feet and laid her on the bed.
He stood over her, tugging at his tie to loosen it before he picked up the diary and looked carefully at the brown leather casing on the front cover. "In the mood for a little reading?"
"I'm always in the mood for a story."
He handed the book to her, and she flipped through the pages searching for a particular entry, while he sauntered around the foot of the bed, removing his dinner jacket and waistcoat and tossing them onto the upholstered bench.
He climbed onto the bed and lay down on his side facing her, his elbow on a pillow, his head resting on a hand, while he admired her lovely profile in the lamplight. Her skin was creamy white, her lips full and moist. When she began to read, her voice was smooth and intoxicating like wine…
"Dear Diary,
"Tonight it happened and it was perfect, the most incredible day of my life. It was a gloriously hot and humid evening without a single breath of wind, and after dinner I could not contain my desires. My body was tingling with wanton urges, so I ran out the door and headed to the forest.
"My breasts were heaving with excitement, and in the warm, moist twilight, my skin became sticky and wet. I had never felt such burning anticipation. When I reached the clearing, I saw him. My dearest love, Jess. He had been sitting in a patch of purple wildflowers, but rose instantly to his feet when he heard my approach, and ran to meet me. I dashed into his strong, capable arms and together we sank down to the grass, our hungry bodies entwined, squeezing and thrusting, both of us sighing with delight and dreaming of erotic pleasures.
"He was eager tonight, more than ever before, and I knew I could not continue to deny him what he wanted. I parted my legs for him and boldly reached down to unfasten his breeches. He devoured my lips with his mouth while I pushed his breeches over his hips and kneaded his strong buttocks with my roving hands, pulling him firmly against my moist, open womanhood.
"If I had any lingering doubts about what we were about to do, they vanished instantly when he paused and looked down at me, with the hazy pink sunset reflecting in his eyes like firelight.
"'I love you, Lydie,' he said to me, tenderly, and I knew I would spend the rest of my days loving him with my whole heart and soul, and that he would be my joy, my lover, my life, until I took my last breath in this world…"
"Stop," Devon said, for he had felt a sudden, unfamiliar yearning in his gut, which was, quite frankly, astounding to him. For so long, he had been shunning the kind of all-consuming, romantic love that Lydie wrote about, believing it smothered common sense and resulted in eventual, inevitable ruin. He had always imagined he would marry for duty alone, and would choose wisely with his head, which is what he had set out to do that night he met Rebecca at the ball. But somehow their relationship had very quickly snowballed into something more, and hearing her read those passionate words tonight opened something inside of him. There was such truth and honesty and vulnerability in her voice, the very things he had wished to avoid.
Driven by impulses he had not succumbed to in a long time, he found himself reaching for the open diary and lifting it out of her hands.
Bewildered, she watched him roll to the side and place it on the table on the other side of him.
"You do not want to continue?" she asked.
He rolled toward her again and laid a hand on her flat belly. "I do, but I would prefer to do things our way tonight, not theirs."
He could not explain it, but he wanted to feel something real.
"All right," she said, lying very still.
He continued to admire the beauty in her eyes, the charming shape of her nose, and the soft texture of her skin. He ran a hand down the side of her curvaceous body and turned his eyes toward her long legs stretched out on the bed, one ankle crossed over the other beneath the lacey hem of her clean linen nightgown.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
"I'm glad you think so. I want to be beautiful for you, Devon. I want to give you everything and make you happy."
He remembered her confession-that she had come here dreaming of him in a romantic way, and for the first time he found himself actually wanting to be the devoted lover she desired.
Perhaps he could be that, if nothing else. It did not seem so impossible here on the bed with her, in the quiet privacy of this chamber where none of the palace madness could touch them.
And maybe this woman lying next to him was meant to be his respite from all of those hardships. His oasis. When everyone else expected him to solve their problems and save the palace and the dukedom, she only wanted to give him pleasure and love. She did not want anything from him, except love. It was a novel idea, to be sure. One he did not wish to shun, which again surprised him.
With careful tenderness, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her lips, meeting her soft warm tongue and feeling a heated stirring in his loins.
He wanted her now. He wanted to plunge into her depths and feel the heat of her body, but not just to satisfy his own sexual longings. There was something else at work here this evening, a desire for more than just pleasure-a desire he did not fully understand.
Whether it was because of what his mother had said to him, or if it was simply Rebecca slowly inching her way into his heart, he did not know. All he knew was that he wanted to let down his guard for once-tonight-and not be the man everyone depended upon. He wanted to strip bare and place himself in Rebecca's hands, to relax and simply let her love him.
Could he do that? Was it possible?
She sat up and pushed gently at his shoulder to roll him over onto his back, then lifted his shirt and dropped wet kisses across his stomach and below his navel.
"I'm glad we found each other," he whispered, enjoying the sensation of her long silky hair brushing over his skin.
"So am I," she replied, looking down at him. "I know it seems too soon to say it, but I love you, Devon, and I cannot wait to be your wife. I will be the happiest woman in the world."
She loved him.
God, she had said it, and he had not felt the need to retreat, nor had he dissolved into dust. A miracle. All of it.
"I hope those are your words," he said with a smile and a touch of humor. "And not Lydie's."
She took his face in her hands. "They are words spoken from my own heart. I want only to be yours."
"Then you shall be," he told her, pulling her down for another kiss while she swung a leg over him, straddling his hips.
Gathering her gown in both fists, he inched it up past her waist until he could cup her warm, fleshy behind in his hands. He groaned with need and thrust his hips upward.
"Can we do it this way?" she asked, "with me on top?"
"We can do it any way you like."
With eager hands, she unfastened his trousers, while he lifted his hips to allow her to pull them off and toss them to the floor.
"Your shirt, too," she said, lifting it over his head and tossing it aside as well.
She removed her nightgown and sat lightly upon him, swiveling her hips in tiny little stimulating circles. Then she took him in her hand, directing the round tip of his shaft to her primed opening. Bearing down, she covered him like a hot, magnificent sheath.