"As much as I enjoy having you beg occasionally, you may do so some other time, madam. Right now, I want to bed you."

Simon stripped off his dressing gown and stalked across the bedchamber to the massive, four-poster bed. He was completely naked and the candlelight flickered on his skin, emphasizing the smoothly sculpted muscles of his back, his flat, taut stomach, and his hard buttocks. The soft light also revealed his aroused manhood.

Even as Emily watched uneasily out of the corner of her eye, his shaft swelled and hardened further. She clutched the lapels of her wrapper in one hand and looked away.

"You see the effect you have on me?" Simon asked as he slid into the bed. "You should be pleased, madam. It is a form of power, is it not, to be able to make a man react so instantly to your charms?"

"Not everyone thinks in terms of power and manipulation, my lord."

"You are wrong, Emily. Just as you are wrong about so many other things. Come here."

Emily hesitated and then very slowly she obeyed. She approached the bed with great caution, still clutching her wrapper tightly. She realized suddenly that she was dealing with a wounded dragon tonight. They were old wounds, true enough, but they had been freshly opened. The pain could cause even a man of Simon's nobility and character to slash at any hand that came within reach.

But she also knew that the dragon needed warmth and love tonight. He needed her. And while he might scorch her a bit with a few stray flames, he would not really hurt her.

Simon would never hurt her, never in a million years. She remembered the promise he had made to her on their wedding night: I vow I will always protect you, Emily. Whatever else happens, know that I will always take care of you.

Emily let the wrapper slide to the floor as she came to a halt beside the bed. She saw Simon's eyes go to the outline of her hips revealed through the fine lawn of her gown. That heated gaze traveled slowly, deliberately upward to where her nipples were pushing against the delicate fabric.

Emily felt exposed. She was accustomed to seeing controlled passion in Simon's expression but not this laconic, taunting look. She quickly got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She waited nervously for him to touch her. She was certain that once he did, all would be well.

Simon made no move. He folded his arms behind his head and studied her with mocking amusement. "Well, madam? How do you expect to ensnare me with your excessive passions from under that pile of blankets?"

Emily blinked. "You are waiting for me to… to do something?"

"I am waiting for you to show me what you have learned thus far as a wife."

"Oh." Emily absorbed the implications. He wanted her to make love to him. The notion intrigued her greatly. She could explore him to her heart's content if she were in charge of the lovemaking. She could indulge herself, learn the feel of him, show him how much she loved him.

Emily turned on her side to face Simon. Tentatively she put out a hand and touched his shoulder. He did not move. She edged closer under the covers and kissed his bare chest. The scent of him stirred her senses.

Emily twisted her fingers gently in the crisp hair. She moved still closer and kissed one flat, masculine nipple. Simon drew a deep breath.

"You appear to learn quickly, madam wife," he muttered.

Emily paid no attention to the cutting edge of his tongue. "I love to touch you, Simon. You are so hard and sleek and strong. Like one of your beautiful, jeweled dragons come to life."

"You are not afraid I will rend you to pieces?"

She smiled faintly, bent her head, and touched the tip of her tongue to his chest. "You would not do that."

"You are very confident of your power, are you not? Perhaps a little too confident."

"It is not a matter of power, Simon. It is a matter of love."

Growing bolder now, she began to stroke him slowly, lingeringly. She felt the tension in the muscles of his thighs and realized with surprise that he was having to exert enormous control over himself.

"Relax, my lord." She squeezed the taut muscles slowly. "You are far too tense. I expect it is a result of all your efforts on behalf of my brother."

"You think me tense?"

"Very. Here, I will see if I can help you grow calm." Emily threw off the last of the covers and knelt beside Simon. Ignoring the blatantly thrust shaft of his manhood, she began to gently, firmly squeeze and stroke the long muscles of his thighs and calves.

"What the devil are you doing?" Simon demanded, eyeing her through slitted lids.

"I have seen my father do this to his horses after a long, bruising ride. He says it helps keep them from stiffening up." Emily kept up the rhythmic squeezing and stroking. Slowly she worked her way from upper thigh to ankle, kneading the muscles of Simon's left leg.

When she was finished, she leaned across and began to work on the right leg. The gossamer folds of her nightdress fluttered over Simon's upthrust manhood. A spasm went through his whole body.

"Hell and damnation," Simon muttered.

"Are you all right, my lord?" Emily paused in her ministrations to glance at him.

"I believe I am still a bit tense in places."

Emily smiled reassuringly. "We shall soon have you soothed and quieted, my lord." She continued down his right leg and then patted him gently. "Turn over, please."

He hesitated, glowering at her. His eyes were fierce and hot with arousal now. "Turn over?"

"So that I can work on the muscles of your back. Have you not noticed how stiff one's shoulders get when one's nerves are overset?"

"Emily, I assure you, I am not suffering from the vapors." Nevertheless, Simon reluctantly turned onto his stomach. He grimaced and reached down to adjust himself.

Emily started to work on his broad shoulders, found the position awkward because she could not bring proper pressure to bear, and shifted closer. When the new position did not work, either, she hitched up the skirts of her nightdress, boldly put one leg over Simon's hips, and knelt astride him.

"Stop squirming about," Simon growled into the pillow.

"Yes, my lord." Emily inhaled suddenly as she leaned forward and began kneading the muscles of his upper back. This was certainly stimulating to a passionate creature such as herself, she realized. She could feel Simon's hard thighs between her knees and the sensation was rather like being on the back of a blooded stallion. Or a dragon.

"Emily, are you giggling?"

"No, my lord." She worked more intensely, rubbing, stroking, probing, and prodding. Some minutes passed and there was no sound from the depths of the pillow. "Do you feel any calmer now, my lord?" Emily finally asked.

"No."

Emily was dismayed. "Are you quite certain?"

"Quite certain. You may dismount now."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." Simon stirred and started to turn over.

Emily quickly scrambled off his back and again knelt amid the bedclothes.

"Simon?"

He lay back against the pillows and reached for her. "Come here, elf," he muttered, pulling her astride him once more. He pushed the hem of the nightdress up over her thighs. "If you want to ride me, then you must do it properly."

"Simon." Emily gasped sharply as he reached down and guided the broad tip of his throbbing manhood to the damp place between her thighs.

He grasped her hips and held her still while he surged upward, pushing through the natural resistance at the entrance of her body and on into the damp, clinging passage. He filled her completely in one long thrust. Emily stifled a small, startled exclamation and splayed her fingers across his chest.

"Now you will ride me, madam." His fingers tightened on her thighs. "Hard."

Eyes closed, her breath coming in soft gasps of excitement, Emily obeyed his command and quickly adjusted to the pace and rhythm Simon established.

"Yes. Faster. Harder." Simon's voice was hoarse now. His hands tightened on her. "Damn, that feels good, elf. So damn good. Show me how much you want me. Tell me you belong to me. Tell me."

"I want you, Simon. I have waited all my life for you. There could never be anyone else." The words were torn from Emily in small, gasping cries. She was shivering with her own need, slick with desire. Her nails were digging into Simon's chest, leaving small, fierce marks on his skin.

"That's it, sweetheart," he muttered. "Give yourself to me."

"I love you," Emily whispered. "I love you with all my heart." And then the delicious excitement overwhelmed her. She went rigid and at the same time felt Simon surge deep into her one last time.

"Emily. Oh, God, Emily." Simon's words were thick with passion and release. He pulled Emily down across his chest and his arms went fiercely around her. He crushed her to him as he let himself flow endlessly into her.

Emily's last coherent thought was that she had mastered the fine art of dragon riding. She looked forward to trying it again in the near future.

Chapter 16

The library clock tolled eleven. Simon lounged in his chair and watched Emily. He had been engaged in the task for the past twenty minutes, possessing himself in patience while time ticked past and the rain poured down outside.

Studying Emily was not an unpleasant occupation. She appeared extremely fetching this morning in a green-and-gold-striped gown trimmed with flounces. There were several beautifully worked dragons embroidered around the hem. Her gleaming curls were drawn back in an artfully arranged style that gave the effect of a shower of flames cascading down her nape.