She opened her eyes, alarmed to find herself digging her nails into his shoulders. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"
He silenced her with a hard kiss, open-mouthed and possessive. "Never apologize for the pleasure you feel with me."
She looked up at him in wonder, this good strong man who wanted to make love to her. Who wanted to give her pleasure without any of her apologies. She didn't deserve him, she'd always known that, but for now she'd lay aside that knowledge and take what he gave so freely.
So she wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer. "Please make love to me, Isaac."
"Together." He bent and kissed the corner of her mouth softly. "Together we make love."
He reached between them and positioned himself. Then he raised his head and gazed into her eyes as he slowly--oh, so slowly!--entered her.
"Like this," he whispered as his warm flesh parted hers, entered hers.
He was hard she was soft and they united as sweetly as if they'd been created to do this. Make love together. He settled on her, his hips fitted to the cradle of her thighs, his belly pressed flat to hers. It was an age-old position, a position that was impossibly intimate. She felt him inside of her and on top of her, dominant but not fearfully so.
"Is that it?" she whispered, daring to tease.
"Oh, no," he replied. "There's more, I assure you."
He withdrew and thrust into her, his rhythm sure and strong. She lifted her hips to meet his. It wasn't as elegant as merely laying and receiving him, but he said they'd do this together and she meant to fulfill their bargain. So she moved with him, their slippery flesh sliding. His penis rubbed against her and into her with each stroke. Her breath came faster.
"Wrap your legs about me," he panted.
She lifted them high, crossing her ankles above his buttocks, locking them together. They could hardly move apart to thrust together again, but somehow that made it even better. She felt a drop of his sweat splash on her shoulder. She heard the wet, squishing sounds they made. She smelled the rising mist of their bodies.
It was all so beautiful that she began to sob.
She was afraid he'd misunderstand, that he'd grow alarmed and stop, but instead he leaned down and nuzzled against her cheek. "Don't hold it in. Let yourself feel it."
She did. It was like a glorious sun, rising, bright and hot, between them. She arched back her head and shouted, crying and laughing at the same time, her emotions, her body, free and out of control.
He watched her, she knew, still rocking against her, still softly kissing her, until his own body jerked and stiffened and his own crest combusted with hers.
Until they both went up in flames together.
Chapter 10
A slight frown marred the Ice Princess' perfectly cold face, but she continued. "Next I will need the wisdom of the oldest man alive."
"Easily done," the soldier replied. "For whilst on my journey I stayed the night with the oldest man alive. He was a jolly fellow and after I'd mended his smoking pipe he gave me a book in which he'd written down everything he'd learned in all his long life. I have it here."
And the soldier withdrew an old and battered book from his sack and gave it to the Ice Princess. . . .
--from The Ice Princess
Isaac opened his eyes with the realization that he held a soft warm weight against himself. Coral still slept, her pale fingers threaded through the hair on his chest, her golden-red hair spread over his shoulder and against his cheek. He listened to her exhaled breaths and felt a peace such as he'd never imagined before. And in that moment he made his decision: he would marry this woman, no matter their differences and her past. He would care for her and live with her and love her until she let down her defenses and loved him back. Until they were both happy and at peace.
She opened her green eyes at that moment and blinked sleepily, yawning delicately like a cat. Her eyes focused on his face and narrowed in sudden suspicion. "What is that look on your face? What are you thinking?"
He leaned over to kiss her nose and then grinned. "I'm thinking that I could eat an entire joint of beef for breakfast."
She wrinkled her nose as if the kiss had tickled her. "I don't know about a joint of beef, but I'm sure we can find a gammon steak and some eggs for you."
"And coffee and toast?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course." Her voice was cool, but her lips curved in a shy smile. "I'll ring for breakfast."
To his disappointment she rose immediately from the bed, modestly pulling on her worn green silk wrap. He'd rather hoped to make love to her again. But as he watched her quickly yank the bell-pull and then nervously straighten the little mirror and portrait on her dresser he understood. She needed time. He must school himself to patience, win her over bit by slow bit.
So he rose as well and donned his breeches and shirt, moving slowly, feeling as if he trod delicately about a wild animal who might be frightened by sudden movement.
The maid came to the door and Coral went to consult with her before returning to the middle of the room. She stood twisting her pale hands together.
Isaac smiled. "Come sit with me at the table."
She nodded and sank into a chair.
He took a seat opposite her. "When I was a boy my mother would make me runny eggs for my breakfast."
She wrinkled her nose. "Runny eggs?"
"With the yolk still liquid." He stretched his legs under the table. "She'd toast me slices of bread, butter them well, and cut them into sticks and I'd dip them into the yolks."
She seemed to relax a little. "Where did you grow up?"
"On the coast of Cornwall."
"Really? I would've thought London or nearby."
He shook his head. "I grew up near the wild windy cliffs. My father was a mining foreman and my brothers still work managing mines. But I always loved the sea. My mother's father was the captain of a ship and he bought me my first commission."
She looked at the table, placing her hand flat against the surface. "Is she still alive, your mother?"
"Yes." Someday soon he'd take her to meet Mother, but he didn't tell her of that. "And the sister you once spoke of? Is she alive as well?"
"Pearl." She smiled a little sadly. "Yes, she's still alive. She's married, in fact, to a land steward in Essex. She seems happy."
"Seems?"
"I haven't seen her in years," Coral said softly.
Isaac frowned, but before he could question her, the maid entered with a full tray of food. There was a pause as the maid set the table and arranged their repast, and then Coral thanked her and she left.
Coral placed a large ham steak on a plate and handed it to him. "At what age did you go to sea?"
"Twelve." Isaac helped himself to coddled eggs from a dish and some toast as well. "And I was so homesick the first month that I thought I'd die before I ever saw land again."
"Truly?" Coral paused, the teapot half-lifted toward her cup. "I can't imagine you uncertain or afraid."
"But I was just a boy like any other," he replied in amusement. "All boys miss their mothers when first they go to sea."
"All boys may miss their mothers, but I doubt very much that you were like all the other boys. You became a captain—surely they don't all rise so high."
"No, of course not." Isaac buttered a piece of toast. "I was fortunate to serve my first commission on a ship with a wise old captain. He took me under his wing."
"You were fortunate."
"Yes, I was. He made me into the man I am today."
"Then I would thank him if I met him, for I like very much the man you are today," she replied quietly.
Isaac looked at her, wondering at the sad undertone in her voice. "You'll put me to the blush."
"Yes. well." She stared down at the table, fiddling with her silverware. "I wonder that you haven't heard that quite often from other females."
"Not so very often," he said gently.
"You said your wife died years ago," she said, still to the table. "Haven't you thought of marrying again?"
"I'm away for months at a time at sea. A captain's wife can accompany him, but not many ladies are strong enough for that life. Alice, my late wife, certainly wasn't. Any woman I take to wife would either have to be able to sail with me or be able to withstand months alone."
"Ah."
He was thrilled that she seemed interested in the subject, but frustrated that he couldn't read her face. Was the prospect of being a captain's wife too daunting? Or was she intrigued by the thought of sailing the sea?
"I confess," he said carefully, "that for a time I thought I would never remarry. Lately, however, I have begun to think a wife would be a very good thing."
"Oh," was all she said.
Still, he decided to take her response in a positive light--she had not rejected the idea outright. Isaac made sure to keep the conversation light after that and when he rose from the table some fifteen minutes later, his cheerful mood was restored.
"Tonight then?" he asked as he paused at the door to her room. "This is the seventh night of my winnings, I believe."
She caught her breath as if she'd just remembered as well. Suddenly she was before him and she reached up and caught his face between her soft hands and pulled him down to kiss him. Her mouth was open, her lips wild, and he felt himself harden, took a step back into the room, crowding her toward the bed.
"No," she gasped, tearing her mouth from his. She placed her hands flat on his chest and smiled, though her lips trembled. "I'm sorry. I know you have business to do today. Go."
"You're sure?" He had business, but at the moment whatever it was had flown his mind.
"Yes." Her fingers worried at one of his brass buttons. "Just don't forget me."
He grinned. "Small chance of that."
"You promise?"
"Yes," he said slowly. She was too intense. What worried her now?
But before he could ask, she stepped back and wrapped her arms about herself. "Go, then."
He left quickly before his body could change his mind. With only a few days left now before the Challenger sailed, he was indeed busy. Still he found time to visit a small jewelry shop and make a purchase before the day was over. By the time he made his way back to the Grotto that night, it was well past dark.
So he was a bit surprised then not to find the usual guards outside the big double doors to the brothel. Perhaps they'd been called inside to deal with an unruly patron. Isaac let himself in the Grotto and immediately saw a crowd of girls and some guests gathered at the door to one of the salons.
"It's my house!" someone was screaming from inside.
Isaac pushed his way through the crowd, fearful that Jimmy Hyde was threatening Coral. But what he saw inside the salon was a different scene altogether. The two men who usually stood guard by the front doors each held one of Jimmy's arms—and none too gently. The little man was half lifted off his toes. But still he managed to hurl threats and scream obscenities at the man who stood in front of him. Big Billy had his arms crossed and was watching Jimmy with dispassion.
When the little man stopped to gasp for breath, Billy spoke. "You saw the papers right enough. Our Aphrodite has bought the shares fair and square and signed the Grotto over to me an' the girls. Now git on wi' ye. We have no use for ye anymore."
With that Jimmy was dragged through the crowd which began to cheer.
"Drinks on the 'ouse for all in honor of our Aphrodite!" Billy cried above the shouting.
Isaac made his way to Billy's side as the girls and men began to go in search of free champagne. "What has happened?"