Free Pride and Fire by Jomarie Degioia Page B

The fabric clung to her moistened skin.
    “I want you, Michelle,” he said again.
    “Take me, Paul.”
    He gently stroked her cheek with his hand. “No, love. I won’t have you until we’re wed.” He took her hand and placed it against the front of his breeches. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
    Her fingers trailed lightly over him through his tight breeches and he groaned in response.
    “Does that hurt?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he ground out. “But I’ll live.”
    She closed her hand over him then. He breathed in sharply and grasped the back of her neck. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands stealing up under his jacket to caress his back. He finally dragged his mouth from hers and sighed, a long, ragged sound in the quiet of the parlor. Their foreheads touched as he stared into her eyes.
    “I have to go,” he said.
    Michelle nodded and stepped back from him. He opened the doors and peered out. Seeing no one about, he walked quietly to the front door. He turned to her and took her into his arms once more.
    “Good night, Michelle.”
    “Good night. Unless… you wish to accompany me upstairs?”
    Paul breathed in sharply and stared at her. He caught her smile. “Ah, a lusty wench,” he chuckled. “I am a lucky man.”

Chapter 8
    When Michelle woke the next morning, she thought about what happened last night. It seemed like a wonderful dream. Except if it had been a dream, they would have made love on the floor of the parlor! Her body flushed at that provocative image. She didn’t know precisely what would’ve happened but she was certain that, with Paul, it would’ve been wonderful.
    She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she rushed through her morning toilette, a thought occurred to her. She couldn’t tell her mother about Paul’s plans to call this morning. How would she explain her knowledge of it? She pictured the look on her mother’s face if she told her the truth, and was seized by a fit of giggles. She changed into her chemise and petticoat and brushed her hair, impatient for Betsy’s arrival.
    The lady’s maid entered the chamber and Michelle smiled brightly.
    “Good morning, Betsy,” Michelle said. “And how are you this fine morning?”
    “J-just fine, My Lady,” Betsy said. “Will you be seein’ His Lordship today?”
    “Yes.” Michelle laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
    Betsy nodded. “Which day dress, My Lady?”
    “Perhaps the white one, Betsy,” Michelle answered. “The one with the blue flowers?”
    “Oh, yes,” Betsy agreed. “That dress is quite fetchin’ on you.”
    Michelle thanked the girl and prepared herself for Paul’s visit.
    He arrived just as she and her mother finished breakfast. Lady Helen’s eyes widened in surprise when the butler announced him.
    “Michelle, what is this about?” her mother asked.
    Michelle shrugged her shoulders, feigning innocence as she struggled to keep a smile from her face, and trailed after her mother into the parlor. Paul leaned against the mantle, relaxation in his long-legged stance. Mmm, he looked even better than he had last night.
    “Lord Leed!” Lady Helen exclaimed. “So good to see you again.”
    “Lady Helen,” he said with a deep bow. “Lady Michelle.”
    His eyes met Michelle’s, a sparkle in them. Was he thinking of what they’d done in this room last night?
    Her cheeks warm, she quirked a smile at him as she curtsied. “Hello, Lord Leed.”
    He shook his head at her even as a grin spread over his features. He turned back to her mother. “Lady Helen, I wish to express my regrets over the events of yesterday afternoon.”
    Lady Helen bowed her head in acceptance, settling herself on the settee. Paul motioned for Michelle to take a seat and sat down beside her. He took her hand in his and faced her mother.
    “After having had time to think over my situation, I would like for the wedding to take place this