anything on underneath it?“

She didn’t answer him.

„No?“ He smiled. „How delightful. I’ll have a dressmaker

fashion several for you and you can wear them for me when I

visit you at your house in St. Petersburg.“

„I’m not going to St. Petersburg.“

„Scarlet is a wonderful color for you,“ he said, ignoring her

reply. „Your nipples are just that color after I’ve sucked at

them for a long time. Do you remember how long I did that

the night before you ran away from me? I love your breasts. I

love to look at them. I love to touch them. I love to watch

them swell and ripen as you become excited.“ His gaze never

left her breasts. „As they’re doing now.“

She had no need for him to tell her this. She could feel

herself blossom, tauten under his gaze. The slight jouncing of

the carriage on the cobblestones sent a quiver through every

muscle of her body and pulled at her heavy, sensitive breasts

like a toying hand. Nicholas’s hand.

„Give me your foot.“

A ripple of surprise went through her. „Why?“

He reached into his pocket and drew out a pristine white

handkerchief. „You accused me of getting your feet dusty. I

thought I’d try to make amends.“ His smile held an entrancing

sweetness. „I thought it would please you to see me do so

menial a task.“

She slowly lifted her leg and stretched out her left foot to

rest on his knees. He enfolded it in the handkerchief and ran

the soft fine linen over her sole. A little shiver went through

her. He looked up. „Did I tickle you?“

„No, I’m not ticklish.“

„The other foot.“ He began running the white cloth over

her right foot. „You exaggerated. You’re not very dusty at all.“

His gaze rose to her face as he ran the handkerchief over her

sole with deliberate slowness. „And you may not be ticklish,

but you’re extremely sensitive here. Many women are, you

know.“ He tossed the handkerchief carelessly on the seat

beside him and, holding her ankle in one hand, he ran the tips

of his fingers lightly from her heel to her instep. She

experienced a tingling in her foot that spread up her leg. The

muscles of her calf bunched and then hardened. „You see?“

She attempted to draw her foot away from him, but he

would not release it. His grip tightened on her inkle. „You

have lovely feet. Strong and well shaped.“ His finger rubbed

gently at the curve of her instep. \nother shiver ran through her

and she felt the muscles of her entire leg tauten. A familiar hot

tingle gnited between her thighs.

She suddenly became aware how open and vulner-ible was

her position. The moonlit intimacy of the:arriage, the

nakedness of her breasts, Nicholas’s ;trong hand holding her

ankle captive, and his fingers moving with teasing delicacy , , ,

He would stop and wait until the anticipation built and then

would start again. His whisper-soft touch came gently,

intimately, on her instep.

This time a shudder ran through every muscle of her body.

Where had he learned this skillful, subtle manipulation of a

woman’s body? A flash of resentment came and then was gone

as his fingertips once more moved over her instep and the

muscles of her stomach contracted as if on command. She

moistened her lips with her tongue. „Stop, Nicholas.“

He ceased immediately and set her foot on the seat beside

him. „Certainly.“ Then before she could draw her leg away, he

was kneeling on the floor of the carriage before her between

her thighs, pushing up the filmy scarlet skirt with one hand

and gently shifting her other leg to the side with the other. „I

think it’s time we went on to other pleasures anyway.“ His

head slowly lowered, his gaze on the soft darkness awaiting

him. „And this is very pleasurable for you, remember? That

night you screamed…“

She wanted to scream again as his tongue touched and then

began to stroke her with painstaking slowness. She arched

helplessly toward him, her fingers reaching out blindly to bury

themselves in his golden hair. Searing hunger tore through her

as her head fell back against the cushions of the seat. She

couldn’t get her breath. Heat. Tingling. Clenching.

He lifted his head. „You’re so pretty here.“ He blew gently.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his warm breath exploding

against her pulsating heart. His hands were lifting, his palms

cupping her round buttocks as he slowly lowered his head

again. „It’s not enough. I’m hungry for you. I want to taste

you.“ His mouth opened, enveloped, sucked.

Her lips opened, the tendons of her throat strained, but she

could make no sound. She felt as though she were bathed in

fire. The dizzying tempo of the blood running through her

veins was almost as painful as the intensity of pleasure she

was experiencing.

Nicholas head rose and his hands left her. He fumbled

quickly at the front of his trousers and his manhood burst free

of restriction. He laid his head on her stomach, his breath

coming in harsh rasps. He rubbed his hard cheek against her

flesh, luxuriating in the softness of her. „Silver…“

Then he was suddenly gone, once again sitting across from

her. His fair hair was tousled and his ebony eyes blazed as he

reached out and lifted her onto his lap. „Come to me.“ His

voice was soft, urgent, as irresistible as the haunting melody of

Pan’s flute.

His hands cupped her hips as he slid her slowly down the

rigid stalk of his manhood. Her knees braced on the cushions

of the seat on either side of him. His hands left her and gently

began to rub at her insteps as he let her feel every bold inch of

his dimension within her.

She bit her lower lip to keep her delirious jolt of pleasure

unknown to him. But it was to no avail; he did know, Nicholas

always knew.

Her hands clutched his shoulders as he began a fiery

rhythm that turned her mindless with a fever of ecstasy. She

couldn’t repress the low moan that trembled deep in her throat.

„Let go.“ Nicholas’s voice was a silkening crooning in her

ear. „This is where you belong. This is what you want. Say it,

Silver.“

„No!“ Her fingers went up to tangle in his hair. „No.“

„Say it!“

„Yes!“ Her fingers clenched again in his hair. She was

panting, her breath coming in little sobs. „But it doesn’t

matter, it means nothing. Do you hear me? It doesn’t mean

anything!“

He went still. Then, slowly, his hands cupped her cheeks in

his two hands and tilted her head back to look into her eyes.

She had expected to see lust, perhaps triumph, but there was

something else in his glittering eyes that bewildered her.

Sadness. „I know,“ he said softly. „But that’s all you’ll give

me.“ His lips brushed her own with exquisite tenderness.

„Firebird.“ He closed his eyes and for a moment she thought

she saw a flicker of pain on his face. Then his eyes opened and

he smiled crookedly. „So I’ll take what gifts I’m allowed as

I’ve always done before. Perhaps you’ll find it to be a fair

exchange.“

Then he was clearly done with conversation as he began to

thrust with a force and power that held an odd element of

desperation.

She was still lost in a haze of delight and lethargy when he

moved her to the seat opposite him again. He swiftly put his

clothes in order and then leaned forward to carefully fasten the

buttons on her velvet bodice and arrange her filmy skirts

around her. His features were set and curiously grave in the