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could smell
his perfume and deeper, more masculine scents. Had I been so close
before? Of course not. Always had we been separated—he at one end
of a far table, me at the other. Occasionally we might find
ourselves close enough to exchange a few pleasantries. To think the
same passions were building in his breast as stormed inside me.
    There, so near at last, I closed my eyes and
breathed deeply. It was not as I expected, his scent. Strong and
earthy, it made me hungry—for what I still couldn’t guess.
Certainly I did not intend so early to take things so very far?
    Feeling his hand on my bare shoulder, I
opened my eyes.
    “About our eventual marriage,” he
answered.
    A second time that night I thought I would
die on the spot! I couldn’t respond, only tremble beneath his
touch. Such heights in a few short weeks, it seemed impossible.
    “Is that not what you are here to discuss,
Gabrielle?” he asked and withdrew his hand.
    “It is, Sebastian,” I assured him and reached
out to touch his sleeve. “I just dared not hope to hear those words
from your lips tonight.”
    Grabbing both of my shoulders, he pulled me
closer, my breasts a mere inch from the frills of his coat. I
longed to push forward, to press against his chest, but fear that
he would find me brazen stopped me.
    “What is it?” I asked, the words sounding
with a quiver as I fought to contain the heat building in me.
    “I would kiss you, Gabrielle, if that is not
too bold of me?”
    I relaxed beneath his touch and closed my
eyes, ready for his kiss. What did I expect? Not those light pecks
that clumsy admirers sometimes sought to bestow upon me. But
neither did I expect a deep probing of my mouth that would leave me
damp and on fire (in so many places)!
    He started slow, his lips whispering across
mine, leaving me sighing. Then his tongue flicked at the corner of
my mouth and, like a child drawn to a nipple, I followed the
motion, opening my mouth to his. His tongue penetrated me, sliding
over and against mine, swiping at my palate with sensuous thrusts
that had me cresting against his broad chest.
    He cupped my breast as he kissed me, the
looser fitting gown he had equipped me with for the night allowing
him to manipulate my flesh with his strong hands. I leaned into
him, returning the thrust of his tongue, and his other hand
traveled down to my calf. He rubbed at my leg through the fabric,
effortlessly coaxing me into a reclining position.
    Sebastian uncurled his body along mine and I
felt the just of his hips and hard press of his manhood through the
cloth of my gown. I sighed, arching my back, wanting nothing more
than to have him take me but not knowing how to, or whether I
should, ask for such a thing.
    “My love.” His voice was filled with the same
warm spice that scented his body and I moaned against his shoulder
as his hand traveled the curve of my hip. “I would worship your
body if you would but consent, Gabrielle?”
    Dark, husky, the request sent thrills racing
over my skin followed by a warm blanket of heat. Nevertheless, I
tightened with dread.
    “You would think me wanton,” I protested at
the same time my tone pleaded for him to convince me otherwise.
    “I would think you my mate, love, bound to me
forever,” he answered. He lifted the skirt of my gown and
undergarments, the leather of his glove smooth against my thigh. He
gripped my hip, his thumb caressing the skin of my lower
stomach.
    How could I deny such a touch! I arched and
moaned, my legs spreading even though I did not order them to do
so. He stroked the small button between the folds of my womanhood,
the touch of the leather on the sensitive skin maddening.
    “Sebastian…I have never…” I stopped, the
confession almost embarrassing. I knew how far other young women in
my position had ventured. Veronique had teased me with
half-confessions of her more sensual escapades. Would Sebastian
expect me to be a virgin or find me a silly unschooled child?
    “No?” he