He took one of her breasts in his hand, nearly losing himself then and there, just with that. She was perfect, overflowing his fingers, soft and round and glorious. “I want to taste you,” he gasped, and he brought his mouth to her, flicking his tongue across the tender tip, feeling a moment of pure masculine triumph when she let out a tiny shriek, bucking off the bed.

Which of course only brought her more deeply to him.

He suckled her then, thinking she had to be the most glorious, the most womanly creature ever made. He wanted to stay with her forever, buried inside, loving her.

Just loving her.

He wanted this to be good for her. No, he wanted it to be spectacular. But it was her first time, and he’d been told that the first time was rarely good for a woman. And he was so damned nervous that he was going to lose all control and take his own pleasure before he could help her reach hers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous making love to a woman. But then again, what he’d done before…that hadn’t been making love. He hadn’t realized it before now. There was a difference, and the difference was in his arms right now.

“Annabel,” he whispered, barely recognizing his own voice. “Is it…? Are you…?” He swallowed, trying to form a coherent thought. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “Only for a moment. Now it’s…”

He held his breath.

“Strange,” she finished. “Wonderful.”

“It only gets better,” he assured her. And it would. He began to move within her, not those first hesitant motions when he’d tried to set her at ease, but something real. He moved like a man who was coming home.

He slid a hand between them, reaching down to touch her, even as he thrust inside. Her hips nearly rose from the bed when he found her, and he stroked and teased, spurred on by the quickening of her breath. She grabbed his shoulders—hard, with tight, tense fingers, and when she called out his name, it was an entreaty.

She wanted him.

She was begging for release.

And he swore he would give it to her.

He brought his head to her breast again, nipping and licking. If he could have he would have loved her everywhere, all at once, and maybe she felt like he did, because just when he thought he might not be able to hold off any longer, she bucked and tensed beneath him. Her fingers bit into his skin, and she tightened around him, squeezing, quivering. She was so tight, her muscles so powerful that she nearly pushed him out, but he surged forward, and before he knew it, he had spilled himself within her, reaching his climax at the very moment she started to come down from hers.

“I love you,” he said, and he curled against her side. He pulled her against him, fitting like two spoons in a drawer, closed his eyes, and he slept.

Chapter Twenty-seven

The sun rose early this time of year, and when Annabel opened her eyes and checked the clock on the table beside her bed, it was barely half five. The room was still quite dim, so she slipped out of bed, put on a dressing gown, and walked to the window to open the curtains. Her grandmother may have given tacit permission for Sebastian to stay in her room the night before, but Annabel knew that he could not be there when the rest of the house woke up.

Her room faced east, and so she took a moment at the window to enjoy the sunrise. Most of the sky still held the purple tones of night, but along the horizon the sun was painting a brilliant stripe of orange and pink.

And yellow. Right there on the very bottom, yellow was beginning to creep into view.

The slanted light of dawn, Annabel thought. She still hadn’t finished that Gorely book, but something about the first line had stayed with her. She liked it. She understood it. She wasn’t a particularly visual person, but something about that description had resonated with her.

Behind her she heard Sebastian rustling in the bed, and she turned around. He appeared to be blinking himself awake.

“It’s morning,” she said, smiling.

He yawned. “Almost.”

“Almost,” she agreed, and turned back to the window.

She heard him yawn again, then make his way out of bed. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and letting his chin settle on the top of her head. “It’s a beautiful sunrise,” he murmured.

“It’s already changed so much, just in the few moments I’ve been watching it.”

She felt him nod.

“I almost never see the sun rise this time of year,” she said, feeling a yawn coming over her. “It’s always so early.”

“I thought you were an early riser.”

“I am. But not usually this early.” She turned in his arms, looking up to face him. “Are you? It does seem the sort of thing one should know about one’s future husband.”

“No,” he said softly, “when I see the sun rise, it’s because I’ve been awake too long.”

She almost made a joke about staying out too late and attending too many parties, but she was stopped by the look of resignation in his eyes. “Because you can’t sleep,” she said.

He nodded.

“You slept last night,” she said, remembering the slow, even sound of his breath. “You slept quite

soundly.”

He blinked, and his face took on an expression of surprise. And maybe a little wonder, too. “I did, didn’t I?”

Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Perhaps this is a new dawn for you, too.”

He looked at her for several moments, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I love you,” he finally said, and he kissed her back, softly, and filled with love, on her lips.

“Let’s go outside,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

He let go of her and went back toward the bed, to the pile of his clothing, lying rumpled on the floor. “Go on,” he said. “Get dressed.”

Annabel allowed herself a moment to admire his naked back, then managed to snap herself to attention. “Why do you want to go outside?” she asked, but she was already looking for something to wear.

“I can’t be found here,” he explained, “but I find myself loathe to leave your company. We shall tell everyone we met for an early-morning stroll.”

“No one will believe us.”

“Of course not, but they won’t be able to prove we’re lying.” He flashed her a grin. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Annabel found herself practically racing to pull on all of her clothing. Before she could even throw on her coat, he grabbed her hand, and they took off running through the house, stifling laughter all the way. A few maids were up and about, transporting jugs of water to all of the guest rooms, but Annabel and Sebastian just scooted on by, tripping along until they reached the front door and the fresh air of morning.

Annabel took a deep breath. The air felt wonderful, crisp and clean, with just enough cool moisture to make her feel dewy and new.

“Shall we go down to the pond?” Sebastian asked. He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her ear. “I have marvelous memories of that pond.”

Annabel’s cheeks turned hot, even though she rather thought she ought to be beyond blushing by now.

“I’ll teach you to skip stones,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll manage that. I tried foryears . My brothers quite gave up on me.”

He gave her a shrewd look. “Are you certain they were not, perhaps, employing a bit of sabotage?”

Annabel’s mouth fell open.

“If I were your brother,” he said, “and I believe we may both give thanks that I am not, Imight find it amusing to give you false instruction.”

“They wouldn’t.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Having never met them, I cannot say for sure, but having metyou , I can say thatI would.”

She swatted him on the shoulder.

“Really,” he went on, “Winslow Most Likely to Win at Darts, Winslow Most Likely to Outrun a Turkey—”

“I came in only third for that.”

“—you’re quite annoyingly capable,” he finished.

“Annoyingly?”

“A man does like to feel that he is in charge,” he murmured.

“Annoyingly?”

He kissed her nose. “Annoyingly adorable.”

They had just about reached the shore of the pond, so Annabel yanked her hand free and marched down the small, sandy stretch. “I am finding a rock,” she announced, “and if you don’t teach me how to skip it by the end of the day, I shall…” She stopped. “Well, I don’t know what I shall do, but it won’t be pretty.”

He chuckled and ambled over to her side. “First you must find the right sort of rock.”

“I know that,” she said promptly.

“It must be flat, not too heavy—”

“I know that, too.”

“I am beginning to understand why your brothers did not wish to teach you.”

She gave him a dirty look.

He only laughed. “Here,” he said, reaching down to pick up a small stone. “This one is good. You need to hold it like this.” He demonstrated, then put it in her palm, curving her fingers around it. “Your wrist should be bent just so, and…”

She looked up. “And what?” His words had trailed off, and he was gazing out over the pond.

“Nothing,” he said with a little shake of his head. “Just the way the sun is hitting the water.”

Annabel turned to the pond, and then turned back to him. The reflection of the sun on the water was beautiful, but she found she preferred watching him. He was looking at the pond so intently, so thoughtfully, as if he were memorizing every last ripple of light. She knew he had a reputation for careless charm. Everyone said he was so funny, so droll, but now, when he was so pensive…