She reached out and carefully wrapped her fingers around his erect shaft. He gripped her hand and squeezed harder than she would have dared. A deep sound of pure pleasure escaped his throat and reverberated inside her.

"Christ. I love your hand on my c.o.c.k," he said, guiding her hand down his length, then back up to the tip. Though he was hard, his skin felt like satin. He loosened his hold, and she repeated the stroke, eliciting another thrilling groan from him. Touching him this way, watching how it affected him, was empowering. Enthralling. Her blood coursed hotter.

"I want to learn all the ways that give you pleasure, Simon." She caressed him with another languid stroke. "Will you show me?"

Briefly closing his eyes, he made a sound-a combination of a laugh and a groan. "Even if it kills me," he promised.

A glistening drop of fluid appeared on the tip. She touched it with her thumb, then spread it with light circular caresses.

He stilled her hand with a sharp groan, then drew in a ragged breath. Softly, he swore. "Does it excite you to see what you're doing to me?"

"Yes," she responded, without embarra.s.sment.

"Are you wet for me, Angelica?"

"I am." She couldn't help it. It's what he did to her.

He smiled. "That's excellent. Because you're going to show me just how wet you are."

Before she could remark, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. The next thing she knew was the feel of the soft mattress against her back.

He straddled her, pressing his palms on the bed at either side of her shoulders. "It's my turn to look at you." Reaching down, he took hold of the hem of her chemise and gently slid it up her thighs. "Let's remove this."

She remained motionless, burning with fever.

He moved her hem a little higher. "I swear, my eyes cannot get enough of you." Those eyes he spoke of reflected the sincerity of his words.

Tamping down her inhibition, she helped him remove her last article of clothing.

With a few easy movements, the garment was on the floor, and he'd rearranged her legs so that he now knelt between her knees.

She bit down on her lip and fought back her instinctive shyness, battling the urge to cover herself with her arms.

He sat back on his heels and let his gaze move down the length of her body. She saw the warming look of appreciation in his eyes. Her discomfort melted away.

"You take my breath away... Every time." Her throat tightened with emotion. "Bend your knees. Let me look at the rest of you."

She went stock-still. She could not possibly have heard correctly. He wasn't actually going to look at her there?

He must have noticed the uncertainty in her eyes because he said, "This is what lovers do. They enjoy each other, filling their senses with one another. Touch, taste, sight." He smoothed his warm palms up her thighs. "Let me see you." His voice was like velvet. "Bend your knees for me."

Her entire body flushed warm. His request was as exciting as it was intimidating. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted. To have Simon Boulenger as her lover. To be with him this way.

She closed her eyes and slowly bent her knees. Erotic expectation seized her. Her mental focus was now on her private area, open to his view. She tried not to squirm, unaccustomed to this sort of casual scrutiny, yet braced herself for the thrill of his touch.

His fingers lightly stroked along her inner thighs, moving toward her s.e.x. She fisted the sheets, her feminine flesh feeling overly sensitive and slick with desire.

"Cherie, look at me."

Her eyes snapped open. He said cherie instead of chere. For the first time, he called her 'my darling.'

The smile on his lips and the soft look in his eyes pulled at her heart.

"Don't be embarra.s.sed." His fingertips brushed against her moist cleft. She gasped. "You are so beautiful here..." His finger gently circled her opening, the soft strokes making her moan. She closed her eyes, instinctively arching to him, trying to draw his fingers inside her. Eluding her, he glided his hand a little higher. She opened her eyes and stilled, barely breathing, his fingers so close to where she ached.

"And this pretty little c.l.i.t," he said, circling yet barely touching the excited bud. "It's not only perfect, but it also looks completely...delicious." He gave her a light pinch.

She cried out at the sharp pleasure.

Leaning over her, he kissed her, sliding his fingers inside her. She mewed against his mouth and threw her arms around him. Lowering himself onto the bed, he began long even strokes with his practiced hand. The finesse of his touch fueling her frenzy. Driving her wild.

"I want to taste you," he muttered. "But I can't wait to have you any longer."

Wantonly aroused, she had no idea what he was saying. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers. She protested with a whimper. Her s.e.x throbbed with need.

A roguish smile formed on his handsome face. "Perhaps just a small sampling now..." he said and stroked her bottom lip with his finger, applying her essence to it. She jerked, shocked.

Dipping his head, he licked it off. "So sweet...You taste as good as I knew you would."

His weight pinning her to the mattress, he claimed her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss, and lodged the blunt tip of his s.e.x against her opening. She returned his kiss with equal hunger, her pulse racing wildly.

Slowly, steadily he began to push into her. The delicate muscles inside her resisted. She tensed. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over her, a fleeting distant memory of a long-ago event threatening the delicious s.e.xual abandon she felt. She tried to relax, knowing from experience the unpleasant feelings would vanish once Simon was completely inside her. She would then lose herself in the pleasure he created...

He stopped. He was no longer kissing her. No longer pressing into her.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

There was comprehension in the blue eyes staring back at her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that not only had he noticed her sudden apprehension, but, given his knowledge of her past, guessed at the reason behind it too.

He looked concerned, as though he was going to say something on the abhorrent subject. Dear G.o.d. She didn't wish to discuss this. Not now.

But then he surprised her and smiled. "Let's try something different."

Before she could object to alterations to their intended course of action, he rolled with her in his arms. She found herself lying on top of him.

He pressed a finger to her lips just as she was about to speak up. "Let's make love in a different position tonight."

She jerked back. "There are different positions?" What an appealing concept.

He chuckled. "There are." She opened her mouth. He placed his finger back on her lips. "And yes, before you ask, I'll take you in as many as you want. As for now, I'm dying to be inside you. Sit up. Straddle me. In this position, you dictate the pace."

He would be under her. She'd be in control. A fresh wave of arousal rushed through her. She sat up, the folds of her slick s.e.x inadvertently kissing his hard length. He growled her name, a low, sensual sound that quivered up her spine. Urgency swamped her.

He brought her hand to the base of his shaft. She quickly wrapped her fingers around it.

"It is entirely up to you, how deep, how fast, cherie." His voice was strained, his eyes darkened with raw need, his reactions to her inflaming her further.

She positioned him at her opening. He held her hips and urged her down. His thumb gently stroked her c.l.i.t, creating tiny shocks of pleasure.

She sank down on him, her body opening to him, sheathing him inch by glorious inch. The decadent strokes of his thumb and the feel of him slowly filling her were indescribable bliss. When at last she'd taken his entire length, her head fell back. Oh G.o.d. He was so deep. Deeper than before. It felt so good. She felt so full.

It felt incredible.

He rose. Fisting her hair, he gave it a sensual tug, bending her backward over his arm, latching onto her breast hungrily. A cry escaped her throat. She grabbed hold of his strong shoulders and held on. Every sensual pull of his hot mouth, together with the sensation of him buried inside her-the pressure sublime-sent her senses reeling. Spiking her fever. She ground herself against him. "Simon, now!"

He released her and lay back, his blue eyes mirroring the same feral hunger burning through her blood. "All right...now."

Gripping her hips, he guided her initial movements. She quickly learned the rhythm and angle, lost to the pleasure of his thick length stroking her s.e.x. Each rise and fall of her hips driving her into delirium.

Digging her fingers into his chest, she increased the tempo, moving faster, and surer, unable to stop. Completely engulfed in the stunning sensations. A shattering release fast approached. She could feel it coming on. Tiny contractions were already rippling through her core, around his c.o.c.k.

"Oh, Christ, that's perfect," he growled just before he gave her c.l.i.t another perfect pinch.

Rapture burst inside her, hurling her into ecstasy. She screamed, her o.r.g.a.s.m rocking her body, untamable spasms contracting her s.e.x.

He flipped her onto her back. m.u.f.fling her with a hard kiss, he drove into her repeatedly, driving her into the mattress with his powerful plunges, sweeping her along with him until another climax slammed into her. She cried out and arched hard against him, riding out her second o.r.g.a.s.m while he continued to thrust into her with bedeviling skill. Suddenly, he reared, jerking his c.o.c.k out, then clutched her tightly and groaned his release against the curve of her shoulder until at last he was spent.

She held him, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Caressing his back, she felt sated and languorous, basking in a wonderful sense of peace in the quiet afterglow.

He lifted his head. His tender smile moved her to one as well. She was so deeply in love with him.

"Have I told you how much I like this proposal of yours? I only pray I haven't redeemed myself just yet," he teased.

She laughed. "Fortunately, I'm unforgiving."

Softly, he chuckled. "I'm pleased to hear it."

Rolling off her, he reached for his shirt and wiped her stomach clean of his s.e.m.e.n, and then himself. "Does this offend you?" he asked, tossing his shirt across the room.

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to match his pose. "No. I loved every moment. Everything."

He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm glad my lady is well pleased."

Studying the cherished face before her, she answered, "I would be even more pleased if you tell me we can do this again tonight." She wasn't surprised by her boldness. He always had the ability to draw out a different side of her-a side that acknowledged her wants and needs rather than denied them.

He gave her a purely male grin. "I was thinking more along the lines of doing this all night."

Hiding her smile, she studied her nails on her left hand with mock interest. "I think I could be persuaded to your way of thinking."

He flipped her onto her back; she squeaked with surprise. Pinning her under him, he chuckled. "It would take persuasion, would it?"

She giggled. "Oh yes. Amorous persuasion and extensive homage to my person."

He laughed. She adored the sound of it, rich and deep.

She held back the tender words that surged up her throat. Words she knew she wouldn't utter just yet. "I don't suppose you realize you have been unfair," she said.

"Unfair? How so?"

"I don't know you as well as you know me."

"You know me as intimately as any woman can know a man." Dipping his head, he murmured near her ear, "I've been inside you, remember?" His warm breath tickled her neck, sending tingles rippling through her. "What more do you wish to know?" His lips against her skin, his skillful mouth threatened to scatter her thoughts.

"I wish to know about Marguerite. The woman."

He lifted his head. "Pardon?"

She hadn't meant to ask quite so abruptly, but she was dying to know about his past. About him. If he hadn't been distracting her, she would have broached the subject with more finesse. Judging from the look in his eyes, she'd touched upon a sensitive subject.

"Someone in the village told me it was your mother's name-" She arrested her words when he rolled off her. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow again, suddenly pensive, creating a distance between them even though he was within reach.

She wished she could take back the words, but they were out there now, looming between them. Rolling onto her side, she too propped herself up on her elbow to face him.

"Simon, I didn't mean to upset you. You named the island after her. She must have been very special-"

"She was." He surprised her by answering when he looked as though he would not. "She was the most beautiful woman in our village. As beautiful as this island, with eyes as blue as the sky above it and as warm in spirit as the balmy weather found here."

"When did she...die?" she asked ever so softly.

"When I was eight. In childbirth. My brother, born then, died one week later."

"I'm sorry..."

"You would be the only one in your cla.s.s who would be. No n.o.ble would care in the least about the death of a young peasant woman, a fisherman's wife, or her baby."

She understood the pain behind those words. It shamed her to learn over the years the indifference her cla.s.s felt toward those born to the common ma.s.ses. "Your father was a fisherman, then. What was he like?"

His jaw tightened. "Heartless and cold. In his miserable existence, he never showed affection or consideration to his wife or his only son. The happiest times were when my father was out at sea and it was just my mother and I." A rueful smile formed on his mouth. "She was a dreamer. A wonderful storyteller. She couldn't read a word, but she had the greatest imagination. She inspired me to reach for more out of life rather than to follow in my father's footsteps."

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "One day, a year later, after a terrible storm, he didn't return."

She hated the pain he'd suffered as a boy, knowing he'd only given her a glimpse of it. Simon had been all of nine when he was orphaned. She understood, all too well, what it was like to find yourself young, alone, impoverished. "What did you do then?"

He gave a mirthless laugh. "I starved a little more each day until one day I found a man who gave a poor boy a new life." Finally he looked at her and pulled her into his arms. She returned his embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder, holding him tightly.

"I have never lain in bed with a beautiful woman and discussed my past."

She looked into his eyes. He brushed a soft kiss against her lips. "There is nothing of interest in my family. Peasant begot peasant. No duke, count, marquis. Common. Ordinary."

"Common?" She pushed at his chest and sat up. "Is it common for the son of a fisherman to live in this fashion?" She gestured to his chamber. "It is common to settle for your lot in life. It is not common to have the courage to try to change your destiny."

He studied her quietly before he sat up too. "Destiny can be capricious-not at all within one's control."

"You've created your destiny, Simon, and along the way you have bettered the lives of those around you." He made a sound as though he scoffed at the idea. It shocked her. "These people here adore you. You should have been a fisherman, but instead you are a commander of the king's ships. You have done great things with your life."

"You don't know what I've done in my life. Nothing comes without a price."

"What does that mean?"