Free Moon Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) by Shirl Henke Page B

her a glass and she accepted it with a tremulous smile.
           “I don't even know if I have sea legs. If the Atlantic is rough, I fear I may disgrace myself.” She twisted the stem of the goblet nervously in her fingers.
           He touched his glass to hers and the crystal gave off a clear musical peal. “Drink deeply and don't borrow trouble you may never see,” he said with a warming smile. He followed his own advice, then laughed when she recoiled from the bubbles tickling her nose as she took a sip. Gamely, she finished the glass and he refilled it.
           “I've asked the steward to bring us a very late supper. This should suffice for now.” He seated her at the oak table. A single fat candle cast its mellow glow over the exotic fruits and cheeses.
           She took another sip of wine and a few tiny bits from an orange segment and papaya slice. “I'm really not hungry, Rafael,” she murmured.
           “Good.” He said the word softly as he reached over and took her half-filled glass. “Then on to more important matters. Come here, silver witch.” He pulled her gently from the chair into his embrace. “Since you have no lady's maid, I'll help with the buttons you can't reach. After, I'll allow you privacy to prepare yourself—this time.” He kissed her experimentally, running his lips down to her throat; then he turned her in his arms and continued the butterfly soft caressing around her neck as he unhooked the long row of white silk-looped pearl buttons.
           When she felt the back of the dress freed, she started to step away, but he stilled her with one arm and then began to unfasten the pins from her hair, skillfully freeing the shimmering silver-gilt mass to tumble below her shoulders. He grabbed fistfuls of it and buried his face in the lavender fragrance. “I've wanted to do that since the first day I laid eyes on you,” he breathed through the silken skein.
           Deborah turned and placed her arms about his neck, warmed and relaxed by his expert ministrations. She raised her face with lips parted in a smile, and he kissed her, plundering her mouth with his tongue, fiercely fusing their lips and bodies together. She felt a momentary rush of panic at his sudden passion; but before she could react, he released her, taking her hands from his shoulders to plant soft kisses in their palms.
           “Change quickly. I must leave you now or I'll be unable to appear in public, mon Coeur ,” he said with a rueful grin, looking down unashamedly at the telltale bulge in his tight gray pants. Flushing, she did not dare to follow his gaze.
           When he left the cabin, Deborah undressed and her nervousness grew. Their passion had all been so spontaneous and natural that day in the rainstorm. But now, as she donned the sheer silk peignoir, waiting for him to consummate their marriage, it all seemed so—so premeditated.
           “I’m just uncertain that I'll please him,” she whispered hoarsely, recalling that he had always been able to control his passions and break free of her when he deemed it appropriate. “If only I knew what to expect, how to respond...” Her voice trailed off into silent misery.
           Deborah had never been told exactly what went on between men and women. No well-bred young girl ever was; but at least most had mothers, older sisters, or some female relatives who could bolster them with some kindly advice, however euphemistically phrased or misleading. Deborah had no woman to help her; and even under more favorable circumstances, Adam would have been unwilling to discuss such a delicate matter with his daughter. Nonetheless, she had a vague idea of what must ultimately occur. She had never been at all sure she would like it; but being practical, she realized that most women married and had children, so it was simply something she must do.
           Recalling how good it had felt each time Rafael put his