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Iris’s heart jumped. He was going to kiss her. Lord, it had been so long. When his lips brushed against hers, she felt a surge in her womb that she’d thought long dead. Slowly he caressed her with his mouth, and she opened her lips, welcoming the soft velvet of his tongue. He kissed her cheeks, her neck, her ears

He whispered, “You’re the only woman I ever loved. Do you know that?”

Iris couldn’t breathe. Her pulse raced madly, and her skin was fiery hot. “I can’t think, David. I can’t—”

“I’d like to take you to your chamber,” he said, caressing her arms and rubbing the nape of her neck.

“I don’t think that would be wise.” Iris melted farther into his embrace.

“I don’t think I care,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Iris breathed.

Chapter Seven

Cameron sat und

er the giant oak tree behind the hired man’s cabin, strumming his guitar and picking out a tune. A spring breeze blew, catching his long hair and whipping it side to side, despite the protection of the tree. The grass swayed, and the flowers danced. His mother’s roses were budding. Pink roses, the color of his beloved’s lips. The bushes swayed back and forth, and a bud burst open before his eyes, bringing forth a perfect coral bloom. The flower moved in the wind, seeming to hum a melody as it glissaded slowly, methodically. Cameron picked out the notes on his guitar, strumming slowly, soon playing along with the flower’s song. A heady gust of wind plucked the bloom from the bush, its petals floating upward, spinning and swirling, and then it wasn’t a flower anymore, but his Rose dancing. Her feet were bare, and her body was clad only in the sheerest coral silk that moved with the wind as she glided gracefully through the air. She was singing. Singing for him. Her true love. The melodies and harmonies blended together, infusing joy and peace into Cam’s heart. This was happiness. Bliss. A song made of his love for Rose. She danced before him, smiling, seducing. She reached out and touched her slender fingers to his cheek, ever so lightly, and then teasingly moved away from him, making him want her even more. It was all in the tune—her beauty, her love for him and his for her, the teasing, the seduction, the complete and pure peace when their bodies joined. She danced and glided, moved away. She was a bloom again, and the wind tore the petals from the stem, scattering them, and she was gone.

He woke up in a cold sweat. The tune. Rose. It was the middle of the night, but he pulled on a pair of trousers, lit a lamp, and scurried out to the pianoforte in the main room. Grabbing a quill and paper, he sat down and began picking out notes. If he hurried, he could get it all down before the memory of his dream left him.

* * * *

Rose bathed and dressed quickly the next morning. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Evan. She would apologize for her wanton behavior, beg his forgiveness, and move forward. She’d learned a valuable lesson. He wasn’t Cameron. She couldn’t recapture the feelings that Cameron evoked in her. Only one man existed for her, and she would never have him.

But that wasn’t Evan’s fault. He was who he was. She was thankful he had stopped her. She didn’t want to come for anyone but Cameron. Unfortunately, that meant she may never experience that earth-shattering feeling again.

She descended and went into the main parlor for breakfast. Evan was already there, as were Sophie and Ally.

“Good morning,” Rose said nervously.

“Rose, good morning,” Ally said. “You’re up early.”

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep any longer.” She turned to Evan. “My lord, might I have a word with you? In private?”

“Yes, of course.” He stood up and escorted her out into the hallway.

“Evan,” she said, “I want to apologize for my…behavior last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“Yes, there is. I guess—” What excuse could she give? “I guess my curiosity got the best of me. Lily and I…well, we’ve had conversations…”

“You don’t need to say anymore. I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. I want you too. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. But it’s not…proper.”

She exhaled. He thought she desired him. Well, why wouldn’t he? She had thrown herself at him like a strumpet. “Yes, of course. I know that, Evan.”

“I’m very fond of you, Rose. I don’t want to ruin what we have together. I think…I’d like to…”

“What is it, Evan?”

“I care for you more than I’ve cared for any other woman.”

“I’m flattered.”


Tags: Helen Hardt Sex and the Season Erotic