Opening her eyes, she looked down at him, showing golden depths darkened with passion.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded in a raw voice against the smooth skin of her belly. When she did as he bid he ran one hand down her body, from her neck to the dark red curls that hid her womanly flesh, then stroked between her thighs. Her eyelids slid shut, and a long moan purred in her throat.

"You're so beautiful… so wet… so hot," he groaned burying his lips against her navel. His lips drifted lower, lower, until his tongue caressed her as his fingers had. She grasped his shoulders and gasped.

Cupping her bottom in his hands, he worshipped her with his lips and tongue, breathing in her feminine musk, tasting her delicate essence, loving her until she shattered against him. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she cried out as her climax washed over her. When the spasms subsided he picked her up and carried her to his bed settling her gently on the counterpane. Positioning himself between her thighs, he looked down into her beautiful, passion-flushed face.

"Look at me."

Her eyelids fluttered open and he entered her with one long, hard thrust, embedding himself in her slick heat. A throaty groan escaped her, and she ran her hands restlessly over his back. Moving slowly within her, he watched every emotion passing over her expressive face, his strokes growing longer, harder, and faster. She met him all the way, moving her hips in rhythm with his until he felt her pleasure overtake her once again.

The instant her body clenched him, he lost any semblance of control. His world narrowed to the place where his body was joined to hers. Nothing mattered except her. Him inside her. Her around him. He thrust into her again and again, helpless to stop, mindless with passion. With one final thrust, he spilled himself into her, for an endless moment he whispered her name over and over again like a prayer.

When the earth righted itself again, he collapsed and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. He wanted to stroke her back, but he couldn't move. He couldn't so much as make a fist. Truth be known, he could barely breathe. He'd never experienced such intense lovemaking in his entire life, and an inner warmth more wonderful than anything he'd ever felt pervaded his entire system.

He loved her.

By God he loved her.

Loved her so much he ached.

He stilled. But what if she didn't return his feelings? What if-

He ruthlessly cut off the thought. She simply had to love him, and that's all there was to it. And if she didn't now, he'd just find some way to make her love him. As much as he loved her.

The words he'd never spoken to anyone welled up inside him. He needed to tell her. Had to tell her. He wondered if she already knew. Had she read his mind? Discerned his feelings? Possibly, but she'd never said so. But even if she had divined his feelings, she deserved the words.

Turning his head he brushed his lips over her temple, then leaned back, determined to look in her eyes when he told her he loved her.

With his heart pounding, he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

His wife, his robust, energetic wife, was fast asleep. "Elizabeth?"

A soft snore was his only response. Well, bloody hell.

Shame filled him. How selfish of him to worry about his own needs when she'd had such an exhausting evening. By damn, she'd fainted in his arms only an hour ago. If he wanted to win this woman's love, he needed to banish his selfishness to the devil. His Elizabeth wouldn't be bought with baubles, titles, and jewels. But he could win her with kindness. And love.

Love. A smile tugged one corner of his mouth.

He'd finally put a name to the "Elizabeth feeling."

Careful not to wake her, he pulled the counterpane over them and settled her comfortably against him. After listening to her even breathing for several minutes, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you."

Chapter 18

The vision slipped into Elizabeth's slumber with the stealth of a master thief.