With a sigh, Huntley arched his back and let her ease away the neckcloth, and with a wriggle of his shoulders, shrugged off the jacket. A new dilemma presented itself. It seemed wrong for him to be lying there on the bed, still in his boots, but he seemed so peaceful, Hope didn't want to disturb him with questions. Biting her top lip, after a moment's indecision, she wriggled across the mattress to his feet.

First his good leg. She pulled the boot off and seeing no way around it, let it tumble to the floor. His injured leg gave her more trouble. She had no wish to hurt him and so cautiously, as gently as she could, supported his calf while tugging off the boot.

"Ouch!"

"I'm so sorry." Mortified, Hope's hands flew to her mouth.

"No, it's me who should be sorry. You are kindness itself and I bark at you. Here..." he patted the quilt beside him, "Come. I like it when you look after me." Something in the devilment of his expression caused Hope to smile as she crawled across the bed. Her silk gown rustled as she moved, and what with the warmth of the fire and George's encouragement, she felt a little bolder. Eager to make amends, and fascinated by the manly Adam's apple of his now exposed throat, Hope grew curious.

"Perhaps your waistcoat?" Her fingers played over the b.u.t.tons.

"Indeed. Most kind."

The waistcoat loosened, Hope found herself itching to explore the flat plains of his chest. He seemed so intriguing, the hint of hard muscle beneath the linen, and dry mouthed, she wanted to know more. Without thinking, her hand slid beneath the waistcoat. Shocked at her own boldness she glanced at his face-but he appeared perfectly serene, his eyes closed, breathing gently as if drifting off to sleep.

Hope had never been this close to a man before, especially not one who was her husband, and found herself unexpectedly transfixed. As he lie there, the strong line of his jaw diving into the column of his neck with the alien b.u.mp of an Adam's apple, she swallowed again. For all the world, she desired to lean forward and place her lips against the warm skin, but she forestalled herself.

With a frown, she reminded herself George was in pain and not to be trifled with at such a time. A very small part of her, deep inside, felt disappointed. She rallied. There could be no harm done by looking while he slept. Her eyes dipped lower, loving the strong angle of his collarbones and the dip of darkness between. And then, beneath the placket of his shirt, was the flat, firm plain of his chest.

A deep primeval throb started low and deep within. She wondered at the change, as the beginnings of desire flickered and licked in her belly, but seeing Huntley intent on sleep, she shrugged aside her inclination as selfish, and decided to snuggle down beside him. Unsure what to do about her silk dress, her frugal side won as she decided it a crime to crease the beautiful garment, the likes of which she could only have dreamed of but a year ago, and decided it best to remove it.

Then a new dilemma presented itself, for she had no maid, and the tiny seed pearl b.u.t.tons were out of reach down her back. She hesitated, it seemed a shame to disturb George, and yet he was not yet fully asleep.

"George, darling." She nudged him gently. "My b.u.t.tons...could you oblige?"

He shifted and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "Of course, turn around."

She did as was bid and felt the weight of his hand on her back. His touch was delicious as she luxuriated in his ministrations, as one by one the seed pearl b.u.t.tons were undone. Even through her chemise she could feel the heat of his hand, and it made her weak, as with slow, lingering movements, he undid one after the other in sweet torture. She threw her head back, suddenly craving the feel of one of those large hands about her waist. The want of his touch was excruciating and yet once the b.u.t.tons were released, he seemed lethargic once more.

"My stays? If you wouldn't mind?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes."

His hand brushed the bare skin of her neck, as he pushed aside a stray curl of hair. Her body ignited, she flushed deep down her neck and silently gave thanks the candlelight hid her unmaidenly l.u.s.t, for she would not want Huntley thinking he had married a wanton. With imperceptible movements, so slow as to be torture, George undid her laces, loosening the stays until, with a wriggle of relief, she tossed them aside. Only now she sat there exposed in only her chemise. With a sudden movement she shook out her hair, letting it tumble down her back, forming a dark curtain over her thin chemise.

With shy demureness she turned to her husband.

"Better?" He said, rolling onto his side, leaning up on an elbow. His sudden activity surprised her, and then she noticed the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile.

"Why you...!"

Hope swallowed hard. He had been playing her along all this time, acting the goat so she didn't feel alarm. Part of her felt very pleased indeed, but she wasn't going to let him know-not just yet. Two could play that game. With a prim pucker she nodded to his clothes.

"Do you always go to bed fully dressed?"

He glanced at her artfully. "No, but after all that standing I am a little sore. Perhaps, if you could help me..."

Dry mouthed Hope nodded, after all, with her in nothing but her underclothes, it seemed only fair.

"Your shirt?"

Huntley sat obligingly. Hope moved closer and tugged it over his head. Throwing the garment aside, her first sight of his torso made her gasp. He was beautiful. Spare and lean, not an ounce of fat, his sculpted chest made her shiver with desire. She couldn't help but place a palm against it, and the hardness beneath the skin made her eyes dilate. It was her turn to close her eyes as she explored his body with touch, marveling at the sateen softness over rigid muscles. Her touch lingered, feeling the catch of his breath as tentatively she stroked a dark nipple. She wondered at her brazenness and stopped.

"Go on."

She swallowed. George didn't seem to mind, in fact, just the opposite if the swelling in his breeches was anything to go by. She traced lower, over the ridges of his abdomen, to the dimple of his belly b.u.t.ton and below to the waistband of his breeches.

"Undo them," he said, his voice husky with desire.

Nodding, Hope unlaced the ties, releasing the tension on the flap. George groaned.

"More than anything, Hope Huntley, I want to make love to you."

She saw him tremble, saw the raw need in his eyes and there was no decision to be made, for they both desired the same thing. With bone aching desire, she leaned forward and covered his lips with hers. The sweet wet warmth felt so right, it was as if she belonged there, with him. His fingers threaded through her hair, caressing her temples as she leaned over him.

"Hope, you are my salvation. You know that, don't you?"

But he didn't wait for an answer as he kissed her deeply and greedily. With Hope above him, he made to turn, but a sharp pull of pain restrained him. Hope drew back, her heart now pounding with alarm.

"I don't want to hurt you." Her eyes glistened, "perhaps we shouldn't..."

Huntley cursed. "Perhaps another way-with you on top."

For a moment Hope pondered his words, then it made sense. With a quick smile, she nodded and before embarra.s.sment got the better of her, carefully placed a leg either side of his waist and sat astride. Her cheeks flamed scarlet. Reaching up, he rubbed the nub of his thumb against her chin.

"You will enjoy this, I promise."

She nodded, more from determination than pa.s.sion. The pad of his thumb rubbed along her lower lip and a new heat engulfed her, as she became aware of his other hand tracking beneath her chemise as she squatted above him. He stroked her calf, then her knee, and as he slowly shaped his hand to her thigh, she thought she just might die.

"Relax." He crooned. "Listen to your body."

With determination she took a deep breath, but her body had become rigid.

"Don't be embarra.s.sed. You are beautiful."

"My mother," she managed to squeak out, "she always warned me against giving myself."

"But not to your husband."

She weakened. "Oh."

"And besides, your mother knew the delights or how else did she beget you?"

The grip of inhibition loosened. "I'm not good enough for you. You will regret this, and come to resent me."

"Hope, darling, look into my eyes."

Reluctantly, fearing what she would see, she did as she was bid.

"I love you, wife, and want to express that in a beautiful way. I want to pleasure you, to open up your world like a bud ripening into a flower."

His eyes seared into her soul; almost black in the candlelight and deep with love. If she hadn't known he loved her, those eyes would have scared her with their burning intensity. There was agony on his face, but of a desire to please, of a need to worship and adore her-and deep within-she knew she wore the same expression. All her arguments fell away.

"I would like that." She whispered in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

"You say yes?"

"Yes, please." And with that she settled deeper into his embrace....

-The END -.

Other books by Grace Elliot:.

A Dead Man's Debt.

Eulogy's Secret (Book 1, The Huntley Trilogy).

Cat Pies (non-fiction).

Coming Fall 2012:.

Verity's Lie (Book 3, The Huntley Trilogy).

end.