His hands closed on her bare shoulders. Gently, he drew her to face him.

Kit looked deep into eyes of brightest silver burnished with passion. Desire burned, a steady flame in their depths. Her mouth went dry. She shuddered, swept by a force beyond her experience.

Jack watched burgeoning passion turn Kit’s eyes to glowing purple. When her tongue came out to moisten her lips, he judged it safe to reach for the towel. She relinquished it without protest. He glanced down at the treasure now completely revealed and watched as, caressed by his ardent gaze, her nipples crinkled tight.

With a slow smile of satisfaction, and anticipation, Jack returned his gaze to her face, noting her wide eyes and the lips already parted for his kiss.

Kit could barely breathe as Jack brought his hands up, skimming the contours of her neck, to cradle her face, his long fingers sliding into her curls. For a moment, he paused, his eyes holding hers, an unanswered question in their silvered depths.

She wanted this, she realized. Every bit as much as he did. In that instant, Kit made her decision. She put aside all the precepts of twenty-two years of training and reached for her heart’s desire.

As Jack bent his head, she rose on her knees to meet him.

Jack took her mouth in a burning kiss, slanting his head as she opened to his penetration. Kit braced her hands against his upper chest and leaned into his caress. In seconds, her blood was alight, ignited by his fire.

Thank God her hands were free-free to roam the warm expanse of male skin, to caress the bands of hard muscle, to tangle in the springy brown hair. Kit’s questing fingers found a hidden nipple. To her delight, she felt it harden to her touch. Hands spread, she explored the ridges of muscle above his waist before moving on to his broad back. Her hands found water. He was still wet.

Kit drew back from their duel of tongues. Jack’s brow quirked. He reached for her, but she stayed him, one small hand braced against his chest as she reached for a towel.

A droplet of water fell from his hair and trickled, unheeded, down his chest. Kit saw it. She smiled, then leaned forward and licked it off. Jack shuddered and closed his eyes, his hands fisting by his sides.

Kit’s seductive smile grew. She set to work drying his chest, working the towel in small circles, moving with a deliberate lack of haste. She stood and moved behind him to towel his back.

Jack sat on his heels and let her, held in thrall by her sensuous attentions. The tantalizing play of the towel would have melted a statue. Or at least sent it up in flames. His body was nearing that state.

When she reappeared before him, he caught her hands and drew her down to her knees again, taking the towel and tossing it aside. But he didn’t pull her into his arms. He reached for her breasts, taking one luscious mound in each hand, squeezing gently, then circling the taut nipples with his thumbs.

Kit’s eyes closed. She swayed toward Jack, her senses overloaded.

Jack kissed her, letting his hands drop to her waist. She was going too fast-he wanted to spin out her time as long as he possibly could. He didn’t want her reaching her peak just yet-he had other plans.

The kiss slowed Kit down, easing her from a full boil to a bubbling simmer. Instinctively, she realized Jack wanted her in that state. She didn’t know why, but conundrums were beyond her. His hands had moved to the fastenings of her breeches. The wet fabric trapped the buttons. It took the combined efforts of them both to win through. Once the flap was open, Jack eased the breeches down, running his hands over the cool skin of her buttocks.

Kit wriggled her hips free of the clinging folds, thanking all her angels that her riding breeches were not as tight as her inexpressibles. If she’d been wearing them tonight, she felt sure he’d have ripped them from her. At Jack’s urging, she stood. He drew the breeches to her feet and helped her from them. But before she could sink to her knees again, his hands fastened about her hips, holding her where she was, totally naked before him.

For one long moment, Jack surveyed her beauty. Then he bent his head to pay homage.

Kit’s gasp when his lips burned her navel echoed in the quiet room. Her fingers threaded into his hair; her hands clutched his head. She felt the thrust of his tongue, languid and rhythmic, and her flesh caught fire. When his lips finally moved on, her sigh filled the room.

She waited to be released, but Jack hadn’t finished. His tongue explored the curve of her hip. Kit felt his hands shift down and around until each large palm cupped a firm buttock. His fingers gripped her, holding her prisoner. She smiled-she wasn’t about to try to escape.

Then he shifted, settling lower on his knees. His lips dipped downward. And inward.

“Jack!” Kit’s shocked protest ended in a whimper of pleasure. Her knees lost all ability to support her, but Jack held her steady as his lips closed over the bright curls at the apex of her thighs and his tongue probed the soft flesh they concealed.

Kit swayed, eyes closed. She’d wanted him at her feet, but this wasn’t what she’d meant.This was beyond scandalous-it was a damned sight beyond anything Amy could even dream. Kit shuddered, and her head fell back. Her mind fragmented. Jack shifted his hold and lifted her left leg, hooking her knee over his shoulder, trailing hot kisses back up the satiny flesh of her inner thigh before settling to plunder her softness with the same unrelenting thoroughness he’d used earlier on her mouth.

Kit couldn’t think. Her entire consciousness was centered on that point where Jack’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue were drawing an answering heat from her. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, her nails sinking deep in convulsive reaction.

Concentrating on every spasm of her response, Jack knew when she approached the point beyond which her climax would become unavoidable. He changed tack, drawing her back from the brink, letting the flames he’d fanned die to a smolder before patiently stoking them to a blaze once more. From nibbling kisses about the curl-covered mound, he progressed to a slow exploration of the heated flesh that surrounded the entrance to her secret cave.

He had her balanced perfectly; her knee on his shoulder let him steady her with that hand alone, leaving his left hand free to caress her bottom. Her skin was damp, but not from the rain. His hand skimmed one ripe hemisphere, then his fingers sought the cleft between, sliding down to find the spot where a little pressure went a long way. Kit’s shuddering gasp told him he’d found it. He moved her knee, opening her fully, pausing to circle the swollen bud of her passion with his tongue before plundering the delights of her honey-filled cave.

He wondered how long she could take it. How long could he?

Sensation after sensation crashed through Kit. She felt battered by the volleys of passion rocketing along her veins. Hypersensitized, she was agonizingly aware of every erotic move Jack made. Wantonly, she abandoned herself to delight, reveling in the shocking intimacy. Again and again, he brought her to the point where she could sense those odd ripples of tension building within her. Then his attention would wander, slowing her down when she wanted to rush headlong to her fate. When he did it again, she moaned her displeasure. She struggled in his hold. “Damn you, Jack!” But she couldn’t tell him to stop; she didn’t know what she wanted.

But she was quite sure he did. She heard his deep chuckle, and felt its reverberations through her hands. He drew back to look up at her, his eyes alight with a searing silver flame. “Had enough?”

“Yes-no!” Kit glared as best she could, but it was a weak effort.

Jack laughed and let her knee down. He got to his feet and Kit swayed into him. His lips found hers and she tasted her nectar on his lips and tongue. The flames started to build again.

Then Jack drew away. Kit slumped against him, too weak to protest. He held her, his hands roaming her silken back, marveling at the texture of her skin. She was well and truly primed, ready to explode. And, thank Christ, he was still in control. God knew how long that would last.

Kit moaned her disapproval and lifted her face for his kiss. Jack obliged but kept the kiss light. He disengaged, and his lips brushed hers. “I take it that means you want me inside you?”

Kit blinked.

She couldn’t believe her ears. After what he’d just done to her-after what she’d just let him do to her-he wanted her to say it. Aloud. She set her lips mutinously.

He raised his brows.

“Yes, damn you! I want you to put that bloody sword of yours inside me. All right?”

Jack crowed once in triumph, then swept her up into his arms. “Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.” In two strides, he reached the bed. It wasn’t his bed at the Castle, with its silken sheets, but it would do for now. The wind howled about the eaves as he laid Kit down, pulling the covers from under her. They wouldn’t need them for an hour or two.

Deposited in the middle of the bed, Kit fought an automatic urge to cover her nakedness. But Jack’s hungry gaze dispelled her inhibitions. She stretched, catlike, settling herself on the pillows, and watched him undress.

His boots came off first, then he stood and peeled off his wet breeches. Kit’s heart leapt to her mouth when she saw what she’d previously only felt. Jack reached for a towel and dried his legs. When he turned his attention to what hung between them, Kit’s mouth went dry. It had to be impossible, surely? But it was patently obvious that Jack had been accommodated by other women, although she couldn’t imagine how.

A log settled in the hearth, sending sparks flying, recalling Jack to his duties as host. Dropping the towel, he crouched to tend the fire.