Page 84 of Conail

He kissed one wet cheek and then the other. "You planned this."

"Hmm." She touched the indentation in his strong chin. "Right down to the candles. I had help."

His brow lifted in question.

"Your mother." She grinned at the expression on his face.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that."

"I told her I wanted to seduce you. She suggested the candles. And that I should add rosebuds."

"Where are they?"

"I had a difficult time plucking at petals to just have them strewn around. I decided to leave that part out."

"Thank God," he murmured feelingly and made her laugh.

His hands cradled her face, his expression sober. "You almost killed me."

"I wanted to pleasure you."

"You did that and more." He brushed his lips over hers. "And I think it's my turn now." His expression turned wicked, warning her that he wasn't going to show a hint of mercy.

"Darling--"

He shook his head as he pushed her back on the pillows. "I'm going to need you to keep still."

"I can't -- Oh!" He was kneading her breasts slowly, fingers circling the nipples wet from his mouth. He grinned at her dazed expression, but very soon neither of them were talking.

*****

"You bought a house." Yasmine stood in the center of the circular driveway and stared at the sprawling ranch type building with the faded bricks and the windows -- long sweep of them, catching the light of the sun.

"What do you think?" He had been pretty mysterious when he suggested they go for a drive. He had got her up with his mouth on her body and they had spent a leisurely morning making love. During breakfast they had called to check on Christopher.

"I think--" Emotions were dangerously rushing to the surface. "It's very big." And it was. And private and secluded. The grounds were spectacular. There was a shed -- large enough to be called a home a few feet away. And she was sure she heard the trickle of water.

"Lake?"

"And a bridge." Taking her hand, he led her across grass as green as the Irish sea and flowers bursting with violent colors. There was also a gazebo, white, with wisteria trailing along the edges. The bridge had an arch to it that delighted her.

"How many rooms?"

"Eight suites."

"Eight!" She turned to stare at him. "Think it's big enough?"

Grinning at her, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close. All the memories of what had happened in the past had disappeared like a bad penny. Right here with her, he felt a contentment that stole over him and settled like a warm blanket.

"A tree house."

"Hmm." Leaning back, she gazed at the trees and agreed and could see their son climbing the ladder to enter what she supposed would be a somewhat spectacular tree house.

"Let's go inside."

He sold her on the charms of the place, but he didn't have to. The rooms were large and airy, the windows looking out to gardens blazing with colors. There was a patio and balconies leading from every bedroom. The kitchen was huge. The living room with its wonderful fireplace took up most of one section.

By the time they entered the library, she was already furnishing the rooms. Antiques-- it had to be antique furniture. Nothing else would suffice. The ceiling was high and lofty, with plain wooden slats. Instead of chandeliers, sconces were discreetly tucked into the walls and ceilings.

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