“But I can’t finish it,” he said ruefully. He sighed over her breasts before he buttoned them out of sight. “It’s too soon,” he said, answering the question in her eyes. “I don’t want to rush you. You’re much too new to this for any more experimenting.”

She studied his face quietly. “How do you know?”

“Simple logic.” He touched her lips. “And a book I read,” he confessed, brushing his mouth over them. “In case I ever got this far with you, I wanted to make sure I knew enough so that I wouldn’t make you afraid of me again.”

“Oh, Blake.” She hugged him hard, nestling her face against him. “Blake, I adore you.”

His heart skipped when she said it. He smiled, aglow with satiation and the knowledge that she cared. “Lie down with me. We’ll sleep in each others’ arms.”

She tingled all over as he pulled back the cover and tucked her in, turning out the light before he climbed in beside her. He drew her to him with a long, warm sigh and kissed her.

“Good night, little one,” he whispered.

“Good night, Blake.”

He closed his eyes, sure that he’d never been happier in his entire life. He pulled her closer and sighed when he felt her arms go around him. For a beginning, it was perfect.

But the next morning, when he awoke and found Meredith lying asleep in his bed, the perfection waned. His body surged at the sight of her, and he realized belatedly that the hunger he’d thought assuaged last night had only grown with feeding. He wanted her more now than ever, with a fever that actually made him shake as he looked at her sleeping body.

The realization terrified him. He’d never been vulnerable. Even Nina hadn’t really knocked him off balance very far, or tested his control over his emotions. But Meredith did. She was the very air he breathed, the sun in his sky. He felt a rush of possessiveness when he looked at her, a desperate need to keep her, to protect her. He got out of bed and stared at her as if he’d gone mad. He’d sworn that he would never let her get to his heart, but last night he’d given her a lien on it. This morning, she owned him lock, stock and barrel.

He swallowed down a wave of nausea. The tender loving of the night faded into cold fear with the dawn. He didn’t trust women, and now that distrust had extended itself to Meredith all over again. As long as he could persuade himself that it was only physical, marriage hadn’t bothered him. But what he was feeling this morning gave new meaning to the situation. He could care for her. He could go crazy over her after a few more nights like last night. He could be so enamored of her that he’d do anything she wanted just to feel her arms around him. And that realization was what caught him by the throat—that he might not be able to keep his pride, his independence. He was afraid of her because he might love her, and he couldn’t trust her enough to give in to her. She might be just like Nina. How could he know before it was too late?

Like a trapped animal, he felt the need to run, to get away, to think it through.

He got up and got dressed, taking one long, hungry look at Meredith before he forced himself to jerk open the door and go out. Last night everything had been so simple, until he’d touched her for the first time. And now he was mired up to his neck in quicksand. He didn’t know what to do. He had the most ridiculous urge to go out and get Meredith an armload of roses. God knows, it must be the first stages of insanity, he thought as he went down the stairs and out the back door.

Chapter 9

Meredith woke up slowly, aware of new surroundings and light coming into her room from the wrong direction. Then she moved, and her body told her that the light wasn’t the only difference.

She sat up. She was in Blake’s bedroom, in Blake’s bed, wearing Blake’s pajama top. Her face burned. The night before came back with startling clarity. She’d given in. More than given in. She’d participated wildly in what she and Blake had done together.

Her breath came unsteadily as wave after wave of remembered pleasure tingled in her sore body. She looked around, wondering if Blake was in the bathroom. But she spotted his pajama bottoms laid across the foot of the bed, and his boots were missing. They’d been sitting beside the armchair last night.

She got out of bed slowly, a little disoriented. “Bess!” she exclaimed, then remembered that she’d called Bess just after they’d gotten home last night to tell her that she was spending the night to help Blake with Sarah. Wouldn’t Bess be grinning when she got back home this morning, she moaned to herself.

She put back on the clothes she’d taken off—the clothes that Blake had taken off for her, she corrected—and pulled on her socks and sneakers before she combed her hair.

In the mirror she could see the imprint of her head and Blake’s on the pillows, and she blushed. Well, it was too late now for regrets. He’d said that they were getting married, so she might as well reconcile herself to her new status in his life. At least they were physically compatible and she loved him desperately. Perhaps someday he might learn to love her back. He was already different, mostly due, she was sure, to Sarah’s gentle influence.

She opened the door and went to Sarah’s room, but the little girl was nowhere in sight.

“If you’re awake, breakfast is ready,” Blake called from the foot of the staircase.

She looked down, thrilling to the sight of him, tall and dark headed, dressed in gray slacks and shirt with a lightweight tan sport coat and brown striped tie. He looked very elegant, and just a little somber.

That didn’t bode well. She almost missed a step on her way down, nervous and shy with him after the night before. Her face was wildly colored and she couldn’t look at him.

She paused two steps above him because his hand shot out and kept her there. His green eyes forced her to look at him, and he searched her face quietly.

“Come here,” he said gently. “I’ve got something for you.”

His big, lean hand curved possessively over hers and his fingers tangled in her cold ones as he led her into the hall and stopped her at the chair, which was covered with waxed paper that held dozens of small pink roses, their fragrance like perfume.

“For me?” she whispered, breathless.

“For you. I went out into the field and cut them early this morning.”

She lifted them, burying her nose in their beautiful scent. “Oh, Blake,” she moaned with pleasure, and looked up with her heart in her eyes.

He was glad then that he’d followed the crazy impulse in spite of his disturbing thoughts after waking. He bent and brushed his mouth over her forehead, his mood light. “I hoped you might like them,” he murmured. “They looked as virginal as you did last night.”

Her face felt like fire. “I’m not anymore,” she said hesitantly.

He smiled slowly. “I’ll carry last night in my heart until I die, Meredith Anne,” he told her huskily. “It was everything it should have been. Magic.”

She smiled into her roses, feeling all womanly and soft when he said things like that.

“Are you sorry that I took the choice away from you?” he asked unexpectedly, and his eyes were serious. “I carried you into my room without asking if it was what you wanted, and I didn’t give you much chance to get away.”

“Don’t you think I could have gotten away if I’d really wanted to?” she asked honestly.

He smiled back at her. “No.”

She traced rose petals. “Well, I could have. You didn’t force me.”

“In a way I did,” he replied worriedly. “I didn’t try to protect you. I don’t want to force you into marriage with the threat of pregnancy.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Threat?” she picked up on the word. “Oh, no, it isn’t that. A baby is…” Her breath caught as she searched his eyes and felt the hunger for a child. “Blake, a baby would be the sweetest thing in the world.”