tenuous reign on his emotions snapped. "You are mine, Amora. No matter what."
He lifted her to him and took her mouth. Gentle at first. Soft, so she could send him away. She leaned into him.
Tugging at her robe, he pushed the muslin down her arms. With his record-indexing finger, he hooked the ribbon in her hair and shook free her locks. Raven colored silk now draped her buttermilk skin.
This is how she'd looked on their wedding night. Eyes large, shining in the candlelight, waiting for what he'd do next.
Why wasn't he the first to behold her?
And the only one. How could he not have known?
Pride battered, he claimed her mouth again. Maybe their union now would assure her of his forgiveness and obscure all memories of others.
Maybe it would reassure him too that she was still his.
With one arm, he pushed away the bedclothes from the firm mattress below.
Nails stroking his shoulder, she found that spot on his back, the tender muscle that could be scored with her name. She didn't want to be freed, and he wouldn't let her go.
Her lips trembled beneath his. With a taste to her cheek, tears salted his tongue, seasoning the desire arcing inside. It had to be his name in her kiss, in her dreams, in her memories.
He sought every part of her, branding her with fevered hands. Descending upon her, Barrington kissed her until both gasped for air.
Chapter Six: Covering Darkness
Amora opened her eyes to slits. Complete darkness surrounded her. Shivering, she wanted to close them again, but she couldn't. She had to know where she was. And where Barrington was too.
She moved her feet against the bedsheets. Sheets meant Mayfair, her home with Barrington.
Releasing a tight breath, she relaxed her coiled muscles a smidge. How to be sure? Filling her lungs to capacity, she shot up and grabbed the heavy silver candleholder from the bed table and swung in the chilly air.
Nothing was there.
She eased her weapon to the table then dropped to the mattress. Her candle had burnt out. Nothing more sinister. Letting the moonlight stream through the window, she fingered her matches and lit the stubby candle.
Her bedchamber, the grey walls, the sturdy white painted furnishings, all came into focus. Heart light, she rolled onto her side to snuggle next to Barrington's sleep warmed form, but the bed was empty. Pulling the bed sheets up to her chin, she caught the scent of him, a pleasant mix of starch and rainwater.
He must've gotten up to work. Very odd for him to do so and not make sure her candle was lit.
But Barrington may have other things on his mind. Her lip curled up releasing the glow flowing in her heart.
She'd told him.
And he still loved her.
Barrington was a good man, a good lover. Caring, thoughtful, nothing like the womanizing husbands of her cousins. But tonight, he was different. Unrestrained, maybe even out-of-control, not Barrington.
His searing kisses made her feel more than treasured, more than safe. He needed her. It had been a long time since he'd been desperate to touch her.
She fingered the outline of his empty space. This was a new beginning. They'd found each other again. She couldn't let his work separate them.
Popping up, she scooped on her robe. With her candle in hand, she set out for him. The house lay dark and quiet. Her eyes adjusted. She felt secure with her candle's glow. Feet still bare, she traipsed down the stairs and turned toward his study.
A small light came from his sealed door.
She opened it and found a chilly room with her poor husband slumped at his desk. His tanned brow contrasting the white parchment and foolscap stacked about his head.
Should she wake him? Would he begin asking questions she couldn't answer? Who did abducted her? Where did he drag her too?
He'd been so kind and understanding, but his thirst for truth overpowered at times. Maybe they could search for them together.
With Barrington still loving her, his strength would keep the