Next she clasped around her neck a small enamelled gold locket-Johnnie's first gift for Christmas-one side set with diamonds, the other decorated with a crowned heart between the letters J and E, the edge engraved Fidel Iusq A La Mort-Faithful Unto Death. She stroked the letters for a moment, touched by his tender promise, and then let the elegant locket slip between her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She added two rings to her fingers, a rare gold diamond and rarer Siamese ruby, so deep crimson only kings had been allowed to own it in the country of its origin, Johnnie had said.

Lifting a Baltic amber belt of exquisite canary yellow from the array of gems on the dressing table, she rubbed the magnetic beads over her skin, feeling the small sparkles of energy emitted by the friction, and wondering what other women might have worn this resplendent ornament. The gold and turquoise buckle was Egyptian in design, the stylized palmetto motif sinuous, refined.

After admiring the rich antiquity of the translucent belt, she draped it over her hips, then slid a bracelet onto each wrist, one of enamel and gold, the other of violet sapphires. Another bracelet of heavy gold links that fastened with a heart-shaped padlock she placed on her ankle. When she moved her foot, the chain gleamed in the mirror, the weight of the solid links heavy on her slender ankle, and a little tongue of fire stirred inside her at the barbaric implication.

Extracting from the glossy tangle one of the ropes of pearls Johnnie had given her on the eighth night of Christmas, she draped it around her neck, the rest of the large, l.u.s.trous South Sea pearl necklaces following one by one until she was richly adorned in cascades of pearls. Adjusting the long garlands into double loops, she slipped the numerous strands around and under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so they lifted the mounded fullness high, the heavy weight of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed upward, suspended by a dramatic halter of pearls.

Swaying slightly, the jewels embellishing her body twinkled and glittered. What a decorative Christmas present, she reflected, gazing at herself in the mirror, her pink-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s offered up in sumptuous thrusting splendor, the heated amber twined around her waist a primitive, mystical gem. And Johnnie's promise of faithfulness lay nestled in the deep valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his golden chain weighty on her ankle.

She could feel a glowing heat kindling inside her, p.r.o.nounced and insistent, her restless impulses focused now and hot-blooded; she was turning to check the time when she heard the bedroom door open.

A moment later she stood in the opened doorway of the dressing room. "Merry Christmas, my Lord."

Looking up, Johnnie stopped pulling off his glove, the black leather half-rolled over the back of his hand.

His gaze swept over the spectacle of his wife's ripe body in resplendent undress and his smile slowly spread until his eyes shone with appreciation. "Had I known your plans, sweetheart," he said, "my horses could have run without me this afternoon."

"You're home just in time," she murmured. "You haven't missed anything yet." She was posed like a young Cleopatra, her eyes exuding a mischievous sensuality.

He grinned and resumed stripping off his fringed gloves. "How fortunate. You've been waiting for me then."

"I've been spoiled," she said, leaving the dressing room portal and gracefully walking toward him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbing and swaying like the pearls swinging from her ears. "I prefer you to subst.i.tutes."

His fingers were moving quickly on the b.u.t.tons of his great coat. "I'm at your service," he said with a roguish smile, shrugging out of his coat, and tossing it aside. "Although give me a minute to warm my hands or you'll suffer."

"Touch me with your cold hands," she begged in a delicate whisper.

Her breathy words triggered a flaring l.u.s.t and he waited for her, enchanted by her florid s.e.xuality, aware of the surging rise of his erection. As she neared, he saw her eyes raised to him, warm with wanting and when she was close, he leaned over and touched her, his left hand sliding between her warm thighs, his right slipping under her from behind, his fingers meeting, clamping hard over her hot cleft.

She gasped, stunned for a moment, the stark chill of his winter cold hands stinging and thrilling simultaneously, her nipples hardening as if touched by ice. Then a flame exploded deep in her belly, and a fierce wanting swirled through her body, leaving her breathless. Her forehead dropped against his shoulder as she absorbed the shattering sensation; a low, almost indistinguishable moan vibrated in her throat. His fingers were slowly opening her, seeking entrance, finding it. Johnnie's long cool fingers sank in up to his palm.

Her low rapturous cry thrilled him. He could feel her weight settle on his cupped hands as her knees gave way. Lifting her slightly, he put pressure on her pulsing core and she felt every compressed throb more profoundly, felt his fingers more acutely as they stretched her wider. She whimpered as her flesh yielded to his penetration, as the delirious palpitations ravished her senses.

"Put your arms around me," he whispered, scooping her off her feet. Eagerly she complied, flinging her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

Carrying her to a nearby chaise, he gently placed her against the cushioned back and kissed her waiting lips, tasted the sweetness of her mouth as he smoothly freed his hands. Tipping her chin up with a light fingertip, he gazed into her pleasure-hazed eyes. "This is the best Christmas present I've ever had."

Her scent on his fingers drifted into her nostrils ... stirring a primitive arousal. "Kiss me again," she breathed, reaching up for him, wanting to feel his power.

His lips brushed over hers, his mouth unhurried, gentle. He was always less impatient than she, always more restrained, as if he knew how much better it was with delay. "Would you like your present," he murmured, kissing her rosy cheek, "for the eleventh day of Christmas?"

"If it's you." Her fingers slid through his silky hair.

He chuckled, his breath warm on her skin. "You're easy to please."

"Maybe you just know how to please me."

Sitting upright, he drew away and holding her hands in his, contemplated her jeweled splendor with roguish amus.e.m.e.nt. "Since you've been pregnant, darling, pleasing you has been uncomplicated. Now let me get your present." He smiled as she took his hand and guided his fingers inside her. "I've another ornament for you."

"To add to my wanton glitter ..." A small breathy sigh registered appreciation of his masterly touch.

He paused infinitesimally. "Yes, that too," he said.

"You feel strong," she purred, lazily moving against Johnnie's powerful hand.

"You feel eager," he replied, his blue eyes teasing.

"So?" The breathy word was a light command.

"So I'll be right back," he whispered, sliding his fingers out, and rising from the chaise.

She watched him walk to a large marquetry wardrobe and pull open one of the bottom drawers. Dressed simply like a country gentleman he wore a plum coat with his dark breeches and boots, his hair untied and loose. She thought him the most beautiful creature, powerful and tall, graceful, so handsome she always found her eyes dwelling on his finely wrought features no matter that she knew them from memory.

Swiftly rummaging through a drawer of neckcloths, Johnnie came up with a small flat box of royal blue velvet. Forgetting to close the drawer-not a tidy man after being raised with an army of servants-he walked back and handed the box to Elizabeth with a warm smile. "Merry eleventh day, darling."

Sitting down at the foot of the chaise, he began pulling off his boots.

Noting the Valois crest embossed in gold on the box lid, Elizabeth opened it with fascinated interest. At her first glimpse of the dazzling jewel her eyes flared wide. A spectacular pendant rested on crushed white satin: oval in shape, it was a magnificent ruby etched with a pa.s.sionate depiction of Leda and the swan, and bordered by two rows of gems-first, one of brilliant diamonds, then an outside rim of perfect matched pearls. And suspended from the bottom were three exquisite baroque pearls.

"It's breathtaking," she exclaimed, touching the shimmering dark ruby, her fingers tracing the ardent mythical scene.

"A gift from Charles VII to Agnes Sorel originally. Robbie found it for me in Amsterdam," Johnnie said, shifting around to face her, his boots discarded. "Something for you to wear with your pearl earrings."

"It's gorgeous," she whispered, picturing it in her mind with her earrings-"... and Agnes Sorel. How romantic ..."

"Given in love," Johnnie gently said, "then and now." Lifting the pendant from the box, he took the case from her hand and set it on the floor. "Depending on how you want to wear this," he said, holding the jewel in his palm, "we need a gold chain ..." His voice dropped in volume. "Or-"

"Or?" His insinuation tantalized her.

Setting the pendant down on the upholstered seat, he appeared not to have heard her, his gaze on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "One of your necklaces has slipped," he murmured, reaching toward her. Cupping her right breast in his palm, he elevated it slightly, adjusting the string of pearls under and around the extravagant fullness so all the strands were back in place. Then, lifting her left breast, he stroked the pale outside flare admiringly before easing the lush weight back into the luxurious halter. "Such magnificent b.r.e.a.s.t.s," he said, his fingers tracing a circle around the jutting nipples.

The pink crests responded to his touch, the large tips hardened, and Elizabeth arched her back in languourous ecstasy as a heated warmth rushed downward.

"I like the flagrant display," Johnnie whispered, the pads of his fingers lazily smoothing over the prominent mounded curves held high by the pearls, her voluptuous b.r.e.a.s.t.s fuller now with her pregnancy.

"I was hoping you would," she breathed, her smile lush, the pressure of his fingers sending a spiraling heat into the glowing center of her body. "For purely selfish reasons ..."

Lying against the colorful needlework cushions of the chaise, her skin exquisitely white in the dissolving light, tinseled and bangled with glittering jewels, she looked like an exotic scheherazade made for love.

Johnnie gently eased her legs apart as he shrugged out of his coat, the hot eager feel of her intensely provocative. He shifted his position to ease the tightness of his breeches, then reached for the ruby pendant which lay almost invisible against the intricate colored silks of the needlepoint fabric. "There's a story with this jewel," he quietly said, delicately arranging her legs, spreading her thighs wider, bending her knees slightly so her hot cleft was beautifully exposed. Lightly caressing her inner thighs, his fingers moved up to glide over her rosy distended v.u.l.v.a.

Her eyes half-closed under the flowing pa.s.sage of his fingers; any thought of reply was made impossible by the intoxicating sensations.

"The king had Agnes Sorel wear the ruby to a ball one night ... This might feel cool now," he gently said, his fingers parting her pouty folds, opening her, ma.s.saging the pliant flesh wider to accommodate the large jewel. He slipped the bottom in first and then, stretching her soft tissue, he forced the rest of the large oval ruby into place until it was tightly confined in her sleek, taut flesh. The tantalizing jewel fit snugly as it was meant to, wedged firmly inside her, the rim of large pearls causing palpable friction against her succulent tissue, the diamonds twinkling festively.

Lounging at the foot of the chaise, observing the luscious view, Johnnie reached up to lightly flick the three swinging pearl drops with his fingertips. "The king periodically verified that the pearls were swinging free," Johnnie murmured. "Do you feel them?" It was a rhetorical question. Her skin was flushed with pa.s.sion, her breathing erratic, her eyes focused on some internal image.

The tiny tantalizing vibration strummed through Elizabeth's heated senses, moving from the imbedded jewel upward in sensuous waves. Her body was already on fire, and the swinging pearls only added to her feverish desire.

"Bets were taken by his courtiers on how long the lady would last. You touch it," Johnnie gently suggested, taking her hand, guiding it between her legs. "Lightly now," he warned, "so you don't force it in too far." And he directed her fingers over the sleek ruby, his other hand tracing her tightly stretched skin where it merged with the pearl border, exerting pressure, the tactile contact quickening her heated sensations, stimulating the distended flesh. Her fingers slid over the wet ruby, the crimson surface fluid with her own pearly liquid, her body lubricated, ready, pulsing in antic.i.p.ation.

"She was like you," he murmured, gently closing her legs on her hand and on the Renaissance jewel, forcing her thighs together.

She whimpered as the maneuver imbedded the jewel more deeply.

He looked up briefly to gauge the sound and, satisfied it wasn't one of pain, he placed his hands-fingers splayed-on the outer curve of her thighs and rocked her lightly from side to side. The delirium heightened, ravenous need overwhelmed her, obliterating all thought but that of carnal release.

"She didn't last more than one dance," he softly added.

"How could she ..." Elizabeth breathed, barely able to speak, the heated pendant sending wild frissons of rapture coursing through her body, all her senses concentrated on its riveting presence under her hand.

Johnnie's faint smile was knowing. "She couldn't, because the king did this ..." Sliding his hand between her legs, he moved her fingers upward on the slippery gem to the rim of pearls. Covering her fingers with his, he pressed delicately on the top of the pendant so the purposely constructed convex mount on the back plunged into the trembling flesh of Elizabeth's c.l.i.toris and then he moved her fingers in a slow circular motion.

A low moan signaled the first glorious spasm, each sublime peaking explosion that followed curling through her with such savage intensity she screamed at the end-the unguarded cry almost immediately engulfed by the shadowed silence of the room.

Afterward she lay softly panting, her body glistening in the firelit room, her breathing the only audible sound in the hushed chamber. "Merry Christmas," Johnnie whispered, leaning forward to kiss her flushed cheek.

Her lashes slowly drifted upward at his touch. "I need you all the time," she whispered with a kind of wonder.

"I'm a lucky man," he said, brushing her jaw lightly with the back of his fingers, charmed by her winsome bewilderment.

Raising her arms above her head in a luxurious indolent stretch, her movement exerting an intoxicating friction on the jeweled pendant resting inside her, she smiled up at her husband with sated contentment. "How are you doing," she lazily murmured, "now that I'm selfishly satisfied?"

"I'm fine," he replied with unruffled calm.

"But what will you do with this now?" Elizabeth asked, reaching out to rub her fingers over the obvious prominence of his erection, the fine wool of his breeches stretched in taut ripples over the bulge.

"Actually," he said, with a small half-smile, covering her hand with his so she could feel him more acutely, "I was thinking about replacing Agnes Sorel's jewel with it."

"And if I'm no longer interested?" But her eyes had already begun to change as he swelled against her palm.

His grin was easy. "Then I thought I'd wait five minutes until you were."

Which proved in reality to be longer than necessary.

The jewel was slowly removed, a procedure that powerfully incited her desire. Johnnie stripped off his shirt and breeches, then lifted her on his lap, sliding her onto his arousal with an effortless strength. As the hanging ropes of pearls undulated in great swinging loops between them they moved in a glorious untrammeled rhythm-eager, unrestrained, reckless at times-until they climaxed together in cries of pleasure.

Afterward, when Elizabeth playfully rolled Johnnie off the chaise onto the carpet so she could hold him and rub against him, kiss him and feel every inch of his finely muscled body with a rambunctious giddy urgency, the necklaces caught and snapped, sending hundreds of ivory pearls streaming across the silk pile.

With an anxious cry Elizabeth began to collect them, moving on her hands and knees to follow their scattered paths, gathering them up in a small vase she'd taken from a table near the chaise. Lying in a lithe sprawl before the fire, Johnnie watched his wife with fascinated attention, her nude body in motion a delectable attraction. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s gently bounced and trembled as she crawled across the carpet, their full swollen abundance a sensual feast to the eye, the bountiful curve of her bottom lush and blooming, her position on her hands and knees provocative, as if she were tempting him to mount her.

When she drew within range in pursuit of some pearls that had rolled under the chaise, he leisurely reached out and brushed his fingers over the rivulets running down her inner thighs, tracing a teasing fingertip across her glistening wet v.u.l.v.a, up the sleek crevice of her bottom, around the pale sphere of her b.u.t.tocks in a tantalizing act of primitive possession, putting his mark on her.

"Leave them for the maid to pick up," he said, enticed by the ripeness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and satiny bottom, the wanton display of jewels on her nude flesh, the erotic evidence of their lovemaking on her thighs.

She'd gone motionless at his touch, her heart beginning to race, fevered tremors quivering through her senses at the light pressure of Johnnie's fingers. After weeks of extravagant pleasuring, her body was ripe, in constant readiness like a sensuous vessel, devoted to her husband's touch, his voice, his moods ...

"Leave them," he said more emphatically so she turned her head and gazed at him through the veil of her pale hair.

"Come here."

His p.e.n.i.s slowly surged, rose, grew hard before her eyes and she trembled a little at the enormity of his arousal. A molten heat began to wash over her. Utterly sensitized, susceptible to the sight of him, she felt herself open, felt the sweet liquid of desire dissolve inside her.

"Come here now," her husband restlessly repeated, his erection straining upward. Rolling over a half turn he grasped her ankle shackled with the gold padlocked chain and pulled her back. When she was close again, he released his hold on her ankle, turned over on his back and, steadying her with one hand, eased himself under her.

Her heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s were provocative inches above his mouth, her large nipples so near his warm breath caressed a quivering tip as he spoke. "I can't reach you," he said and his tongue flicked upward, barely grazing a tantalizing pink crest.

Shuddering at the infinitesimal touch, she immediately responded to his soft order, and dropped lower so he could reach her. His mouth closed over a taut point and then his lips slid up her nipple as exquisite desire rushed through her body. With lingering deliberation, his mouth surrounded her aureole, enlarged and sensitized by pregnancy; his lips brushed back and forth over the receptive bud, as a baby would searching for sustenance. After a delicate survey, his mouth drew powerfully on her nipple and she shivered at the bewitching rush of pleasure.

He handled and played with the full globes as he suckled, squeezing them gently, his fingers drawing the plump flesh downward in long stroking movements so her nipple slid farther into his mouth, milking the soft swollen roundness, his dark fingers sinking into her yielding flesh.

Needing him with a greedy desperation that had become habit, the throbbing heat between her legs an insistent drumbeat in her brain, she reached for his erection. Her fingers closed so forcefully around his pulsing shaft, he grunted in shock. But then her hand swept downward in a swift sure pressure and sensational feeling overwhelmed him. She watched the dark red crest pulse, stretched taut, glistening and a moment later her fingers slid upward so she brushed over the swelling sensitive rim. And she felt Johnnie's mouth momentarily release the pressure on her nipple as he groaned.

"I need to feel you," she pleaded, her body on fire. She tried to shift her lower body the small distance required to move over him, to straddle his hips. But his teeth lightly clamped down again on her nipple, while his fingers, half-buried in her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s, held them captive.

Tormented, ravenous, she whispered, "Johnnie ...", swinging her hips over a minute distance, trying to reach him.

His fingers tightened and pain just short of pleasure stopped her.

A moment later, he kissed each nipple lightly as if in recompense for the hurt. "Slowly, darling," he murmured, his finger gliding up her deep cleavage. Then he pulled her on top of him and held her, and smiled into her green stormy eyes.

"Maybe I don't want to go slowly." Hot, moody, frustrated, she glared at him.

He grinned. "One of us has to have his way."

"I want to."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You always do."

"You're a businessman; I'll bribe you." Her voice had changed, turned seductive. "I've give you my jewelry and bring you breakfast in bed for a week."

"I don't want your jewelry," he said, a playful gleam in his eyes, "and how can you bring me breakfast in bed when I'm up hours before you?"

Her mouth settled into a pout.

"I want something else."

Her gaze flashed upward and their eyes met.

"We've two hours before our dinner guests arrive," he softly began.

"Dinner guests?" A small startled squeal.

"Mrs. Reid's competent," Johnnie went on, his composure unruffled. "So I'll offer you a proposition," he said, his eyes surveying her with a familiar brazen sensuality.

The startling prospect of imminent dinner guests abruptly forgotten at such bold carnal promise, she smiled-an opulent smile of enticing womanly wiles. "I'm getting my way," she said, moving her lips against his arousal.