Нора Робертс - Megan’s Mate

It was a dazzling display that had the children staring upward, wide-eyed and openmouthed. The echoing booms shivered the air until, with a machine-gun crescendo, color and light spewed high in the finale. For a heart-pounding interlude, the sky was bright with golds and reds, blues and blinding whites, circles and spirals, cascades and towers, that shattered into individual stars over the sea.

Long after it was over, the dregs of the party cleared away, the children tucked into bed, she felt the power of the celebration running through her blood. In her own room, she brushed her hair until it flowed over her shoulders. Anticipation vibrating inside her, she belted her borrowed robe loosely at her waist. Quietly she slipped out the terrace doors and walked to Nathaniel's room.

It hadn't taken much pressure to persuade him to stay another night. He'd been tired and aching, and he hadn't relished even the short drive home. But the long soak in the tub hadn't relaxed him, as he hoped. He was still filled with restless urges, and with flashing images of Megan's face, lit with the glow of rockets.

Then he stepped into the bedroom and saw her.

She wore a silky robe of deep blue that flowed down her body and clung to her curves. Her hair glinted, golden fire, and her eyes were as dark and mysterious as sapphires.

“I thought you could use a rubdown.” She smiled hesitantly. “I've had a lot of experience loosening stiff muscles. With horses, anyway.”

He was almost afraid to breathe. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh.” Self-consciously she ran a hand down the robe. “I borrowed it from Lilah. I thought you'd like it better than terry cloth.” When he said nothing, her nerve began to slip. “If you'd rather I go, I understand. I don't expect that you'd feel well enough to— We don't have to make love, Nathaniel. I just want to help.”

“I don't want you to go.”

Her smile bloomed again. “Why don't you lie down, then? I'll start on your back. Really, I'm good at this.” She laughed a little. “The horses loved me.”

He crossed to the bed, touched her hair, her cheek. “Did you wear silk robes to work the stock?”

“Always.” She eased him down. “Roll onto your stomach,” she said briskly. Pleased with the task, she poured liniment into her hands, then rubbed her pahns together to warm it. Carefully, so that the movement of the mattress didn't jar him, she knelt over him. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

She started on his shoulders, gently over the bruises, more firmly over knotted muscles. He had a warrior's body, she thought, tough and tight, and carrying all the marks of battle.

“You overdid it today.”

He only grunted, closing his eyes and letting his body reap the pleasure of her stroking hands. He felt the brush of silk against his skin when she shifted. Drifting through the sharp scent of liniment was her subtle perfume, another balm to the senses.

The aches began to fade, then shifted into a deeper, more primal pain that coursed smoothly through his blood when she lowered her lips to his shoulder.

“Better?” she murmured.

“No. You're killing me. Don't stop.”

Her laugh was low and soft as she eased the towel from his hips, and pressed competent fingers low on his spine. “I'm here to make you feel better, Nathaniel. You have to relax for me to do this right.”

“You're doing just fine.” He moaned as her hands moved lower, circling, kneading. Then her lips, skimming, whisper-soft.

“You have such a beautiful body.” Her own breathing grew heavy as she stroked and explored. “I love looking at it, touching it.” Slowly she took her lips up his spine, over his shoulder again, to nuzzle at his ear. “Turn over,” she whispered. “I'll do the test.”

Her lips were there to meet his when he shifted, to linger, to heat. But when he reached up, groaning, to cup her breasts, she drew back.

“Wait.” Though her hands trembled, she freshened the liniment. With her eyes on his, she spread her fingers over his chest. “They put marks on you,” she murmured.

“I put more on them.”

“Nathaniel the dragon-slayer. Lie still,” she whispered, and bent close to kiss the scrapes and bruises on his face. “I'll make it all go away.”

His heart was pounding. She could feel it rocket against her palm. In the lamplight, his eyes were dark as smoke. The robe pooled around her knees when she straddled him. She massaged his shoulders, his arms, his hands, kissing the scraped knuckles, laving them with her tongue.

The air was like syrup, thick and sweet. It caught in his lungs with each labored breath. No other woman had ever made him feel helpless, drained and sated, all at once.

“Megan, I need to touch you.”

Watching him, she reached for the belt of the robe, loosened it. In one fluid movement, the silk slid from her shoulders. Beneath she wore a short slip of the same color and texture. As he reached up, one thin strap spilled off her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, as his hands stroked over the silk, then beneath. The colors were back, all those flashing, dazzling lights that had erupted in the sky. Stars wheeled inside her head, beautifully hot. Craving more, she rose over him, took him into her with a delicious slowness that had them both gasping.

She shuddered when he arched up, gripping her hips in his hands. Now the colors seemed to shoot into her blood, white-hot, and her skin grew damp and slick. Suddenly greedy, she swooped down, devouring his lips, fingers clutching the bruised flesh she'd sought to soothe.

“Let me.” She moaned and pressed his hands against her breasts. “Let me.”

With a wildness that staggered him, she drove him hard, riding him like lightning. He called out her name as his vision dimmed, as the frantic need convulsed like pain inside him. Release was like a whiplash that stung with velvet.

She tightened around him like a fist and shattered him.

Weak as water, she flowed down, rested her head on his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

He couldn't find the strength to wrap his arms around her and let them lie limp on the bed. “I can't feel anything but you.”

“Nathaniel.” She lifted her head to press a kiss to his thundering heart. “There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday.”

“Hmm... What's that?”

“I love you, too.” She watched his eyes open, saw the swirl of emotion darken them.

“That's good.” His arms, no longer weak, circled her, cradled her. “I don't know if it's enough, but—”

He turned his lips to hers to quiet her. “Don't mess it up. 'For love's sake only,' Megan. That's enough for tonight.” He kissed her again. “Stay with me.”

“Yes.”

Fireworks were one thing, but when the Calhouns put their heads together planning Coco's engagement party, there promised to be plenty of skyrockets.

Everything from a masked ball to a moonlight cruise had been considered, with the final vote going to dinner and dancing under the stars. With only a week to complete arrangements, assignments were handed out.

Megan squeezed time out of each day to polish silver, wash crystal and inventory linens.

“All this fuss.” Colleen thumped her way to the closet where Megan was counting napkins. “When a woman her age straps herself down to a man, she should have the sense to do it quietly.”

Megan lost count and patiently began again. “Don't you like parties, Aunt Colleen?”

“When there's a reason for them. Never considered putting yourself under a man's thumb reason to celebrate.”

“Coco's not doing that. Dutch adores her.”

“Humph. Time will tell. Once a man's got a ring on your finger, he doesn't have to be so sweet and obliging.” Her crafty eyes studied Megan's face. “Isn't that why you're putting off that big-shouldered sailor? Afraid of what happens after the 'I-dos'?”

“Of course not.” Megan laid a stack of linens aside before she lost count again. “And we're talking about Coco and Dutch, not me. She deserves to be happy.”

“Not everybody gets what they deserve,” Colleen shot back. “You'd know that well, wouldn't you?”

Exasperated, Megan whirled around. “I don't know why you're trying to spoil this. Coco's happy, I'm happy. I'm doing my best to make Nathaniel happy.”

“I don't see you out buying any orange blossoms for yourself, girl.” “Marriage isn't the answer for everyone. It wasn't for you.”

“No, I'm too smart to fall into that trap. Maybe you're like me. Men come and go. Maybe the right one goes with the rest, but we get by, don't we? Because we know what they're like, deep down.” Colleen eased closer, her dark eyes fixed on Megan's face. “We've known the worst of them. The selfishness, the cruelty, the lack of honor and ethics. Maybe one steps into our lives for a moment, one who seems different. But we're too wise, too careful, to take that shaky step. If we live our lives alone, at least we know no man will ever have the power to hurt us.”

“I'm not alone,” Megan said in an unsteady voice.

“No, you have a son. One day he'll be grown, and if you've done a good job, he'll leave your nest and fly off to make his own.”

Colleen shook her head, and for one moment she looked so unbearably sad that Megan reached out. But the old woman held herself stiff, her head high.

“You'll have the satisfaction of knowing you escaped the trap of marriage, just as I did. Do you think no one ever asked me? There was one,” Colleen went on, before Megan could speak. “One who nearly lulled me in before I remembered, before I turned him away, before I risked the hell my mother had known.”