Page 65 of Foolish Bride
She looked down at him and could think of nothing. She had never seen any man cry before, and Michael had always been so soldierly. He was strong and hard, and his emotions always hidden from everyone, including her.
She touched his short dark curls. Emotion shot through her, leaving pain and longing in its wake. The firelight danced on his skin and in his eyes. The warmth of the room was a cocoon around them. “I want babies.”
His head fell forward. Tears finally escaped. “I am not sure I can give you babies, Elinor. My injuries…”
She cut him off. “I do not care where they come from, Michael. There are scores of children who need homes and love. If we cannot make them ourselves, then I want us to find them elsewhere. I want a lot of children. I love the way your brothers are together. You and I both missed that; I because my parents had only one child, and you because you were so much older than Everett and Sheldon. I want our children to have siblings, and a lot of them.”
He smiled, dashing his tears away. “It is a relationship I am sorry to have missed, and I hope to gain with the time remaining. Having brothers is more important than I ever expected it to be.”
“Then you would not mind having a few babies?”
“I would not mind.” He took her hand and kissed the palm. “Does this mean that you will be my wife, Elinor?”
She knelt, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck.
His arms enveloped her.
“I am yours, Michael.”
His kiss was hard and bruising at first, but then more gentle. “Mine,” he said against her lips. He pushed the light material of her wrap off her shoulders, and she adjusted her arms so that the garment fell to the floor.
He was still in his dinner clothes.
Desperate for more of him, she tugged at his neck cloth and pressed her lips to the base of his throat. His moan encouraged her, and she pulled at his blouse, kissing the sprinkle of hair on his chest.
“Elinor, do you know what you’re doing to me?”
She looked, a wave of desire mingled with the excitement that they might be caught in her room so late at night. “I think so. Should I stop?”
His lips captured hers again, and he pressed his tongue deeply into her mouth.
Desire surged through her, settling between her legs. She touched her tongue to his and joined the dance.
His hands were on her hips, and he pressed her hard against his erection.
She gasped.
“Should I stop?” Though his words mimicked hers, there was no teasing from him. Breath frantic, sweat beaded on his brow. “I will stop this now if you wish, my love. I can wait until we are wed.”
No one touched her heart the way he did. Nothing would ever be as perfect as the moment he’d shown her his true emotions. She never wanted anything more than she wanted Michael in that moment. “But I cannot.”
He groaned and stood, lifting her into his arms. He took her to the bed and eased her against the plush mattress.
She expected him to put her on the bed. She’d expected him to immediately jump on top of her and she relished the notion. While some women complained about the act, she did not fear being with Michael.
He left her standing next to the bed.
She shifted, uncertain. Should she get herself onto the mattress? Should she wait for him? She leaned back onto the mattress.
He shook his head. “Do not move, Elinor.”
In the flickering light, he removed his clothes one piece at a time. He wasted no time, but he did not tear at his clothes, either. Methodical and efficient like a soldier, his fingers moved deftly, and soon he stood before her naked.
Unable to take her eyes away from him, her cheeks burned. He was beautiful. Covered in muscles, but not bulky muscle like the strong man she had seen at the carnival, Michael was lean and powerful. His stomach rippled with strength, and his chest bulged and spread out to wide sinewy shoulders.
She touched the whitish puckered skin and traced the scar on his left shoulder.
“A bullet in Spain.” He shrugged.
