Something Wonderful Read online

  “How about after dinner—when I’m stronger?” Alexandra stalled.

  She watched in absorbed fascination as his firm male lips formed a single word of implacable command: “Now.”

  Drawing a shattered breath, Alexandra reached up and curved her hands over his broad shoulders. Without any conscious order from her mind, her hands tightened, drawing him down toward her, then she stopped, panicked by the desire suddenly shooting through her.

  “Now,” Jordan repeated in a husky whisper, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers.

  “W-wouldn’t you like a—a glass of wine, first?”

  “Now.”

  With a silent moan of despair and surrender, Alexandra curved her hand around his nape and eagerly brought his lips against her own. At first the kiss was a gentle, tentative greeting between two lovers, but the longer it continued the more pleasurable it became for both of them, and the tighter they clung to each other, seeking more. Jordan’s tongue sensuously parted her lips, slipped between them for one sweet, arousing taste, and withdrew . . . then hungrily, urgently, plunged again, and desire exploded between them.

  His hands opened her gown, tugging down her chemise, baring her breasts to his hot eyes. His hand cupped her breast, pushing it upward, his thumb circling her nipple, while he watched the pink tip harden into a tight bud. And then with deliberate, aching slowness, he bent his head and put his mouth where his thumb had been. His mouth closed around her aroused nipple, his lips and tongue toying with it until Alexandra gasped with pleasure, then he lavished the same reverent attention on her other breast.

  Passion was raging through Alexandra’s entire nerve stream by the time he finally removed their clothes and stretched out beside her, leaning up on his forearm. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered achingly, his eyes molten with desire as they gazed into hers while his hand sought and found the triangle between her legs. His eyes still holding hers, he parted her thighs, his fingers toying and teasing her, penetrating her moist warmth, until Alexandra was writhing in helpless need, arching her hips against his hand, but still he would not stop. Hot, convulsive waves were racing through her in a trembling fury, and finally she moaned aloud, her hands running up and down the bunched muscles of his arms, then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him. His skillful fingers became more insistent, and another moan tore from Alexandra’s throat. “I know, darling,” he told her achingly, “I want you, too.”

  He had unselfishly intended to give her a bursting climax this way, before he joined with her in yet another one—as he had done the other night—but his wife made him forget that idea. Tearing her mouth from his heated kiss, she slid her fingers into the sides of his hair and whispered brokenly, “It’s lonely this way, without you deep inside of me—”

  With a shattered groan, Jordan gave her what they both wanted. Still lying on his side, he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him, and entered her with one sure, powerful thrust. Alexandra pressed her hips hard against his pulsing thighs, and with his hands cupping her bottom, Jordan joined with her in the most selfless act of lovemaking of his life. Driving slowly, rhythmically into her, he sought only to give her pleasure with each deep thrust, while she, in the same desperate need to please him, matched his movements.

  I love you, he thought with each thrust of his body; I love you, his heart shouted with each thunderous beat; I love you, his soul cried out as Alexandra’s spasms clenched him tightly. I love you. The words exploded in his being as he drove into her one last time and poured his life, his future, and all the disillusionment of his past into her tender keeping.

  And when it was over, he held her in his arms, filled with a joy that was almost past bearing as he gazed at the white clouds floating in the powder blue sky. All of them had shapes and meaning to him now. All his life had shape and meaning to him now.

  When Alexandra surfaced to reality an eternity later, she found herself lying on her side, stretched full length against his naked body. Jordan’s hand was splayed across her bare back, his other hand still wrapped in her hair, holding her face pressed to his chest. With an effort, Alexandra lifted her head, opened her languorous blue eyes and gazed at him, then she flushed at the knowing look in those hooded grey eyes, and the faint, satisfied smile touching the corner of his lips. She had behaved like a shocking wanton and she had done it in broad daylight! Suddenly overwhelmed by his ability to overcome all of her defenses, she drew back and said lamely, “I’m hungry.”

  “When I’m stronger,” he promised teasingly, deliberately misunderstanding what she was hungry for.

  “For food!” she gasped.

  “Oh, that,” he said dismissively, but he obligingly rolled to his feet and politely turned his back, allowing her privacy while they both put on their clothes. “You have grass in your hair,” he chuckled, brushing the few blades from her glorious tangle of mahogany tresses.

  Instead of answering him with a smile or a quip, Alexandra bit her lip, her gaze sliding away from his as she began to unpack the picnic dinner.

  Finally understanding her unspoken need to be alone for a few minutes, Jordan strolled down to the bank of the stream where he remained for several minutes, his foot propped upon a boulder. The flowers on the hill, he suddenly noticed with dazzling clarity, were indeed white—a joyous, cheery carpet of white against dark green.

  When he returned, Alexandra was holding a crystal decanter of wine. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked with the extreme courtesy that only very uneasy people employ. “It—it’s the special kind you drink—I can tell from this decanter.”

  Crouching down, Jordan took the glass from her outstretched hand, but he put it aside and gazed directly into her eyes. “Alex,” he said gently, “there is nothing immoral, nothing shameful, and nothing wrong about what just happened between us here.”

  Alexandra swallowed and glanced uneasily about them. “But it’s broad daylight.”

  “I left instructions at the stables that we wished to be private here this afternoon.”

  Color flared in her cheeks. “No doubt everyone knew why.”

  Lowering himself into a sitting position, he put his arm reassuringly around her shoulders and grinned at her upturned face. “No doubt they did,” he agreed without a trace of her own embarrassment. “It is, after all, how heirs are made.”

  To Jordan’s astonishment, a stunned look crossed Alexandra’s face and she suddenly buried her face against his chest, her slim shoulders rocking with mirth. “Did I say something funny?” he asked, tipping his chin down, trying to see her face.

  Her laughing voice was muffled by his shirt. “No. I—I was thinking of something Mary Ellen told me long ago— about how babies are made. It was so outlandish, I couldn’t believe her.”

  “What did she tell you?” Jordan asked.

  She raised her laughing face to his and managed to gasp, “The truth!”

  Their laughter rang out across the valley, startling birds in the trees overhead.

  “Did you have enough port, or would you like more?” Alexandra asked when they had finished eating.

  Jordan reached behind him and picked up the empty glass he’d inadvertently tipped over in the grass. “No,” he said with a lazy, white smile, “but I like having you wait on me like this.”

  Alexandra managed to hold his gaze as she quietly and shyly admitted the truth: “I like doing it.”

  In the carriage on the way home, Alexandra could not tear her thoughts from the stormy passion of their lovemaking or the quiet tenderness that stayed with them afterward while they ate. “Touch me,” he had told her. “I like it when you touch me.” Did Jordan mean he wanted her to touch him when they weren’t making love, the way a few wives amongst the ton often touched their husbands’ sleeve when they spoke to them. The idea of voluntarily touching him was vibrantly appealing, and yet she cringed at the idea that such an action might be construed as clinging or childish.

  She gave him a